coverable apostasy. We read also in Peter of some who had known the way of righteousness, and escaped the pollutions of the world through the knowledge of the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and had clean escaped from them that lived in error," who yet were again entangled therein and overcome to their ruin. These and such as these are just the characters pointed at in our parable, who, though not thoroughly converted, look so very like it, that only the sad issue makes it quite evident what they always were. How are men #brought so far? Many ways. Take a case or two. You are sick, and to all appearance nigh unto death. Now, sensible objects appear dim as shadows and vain as bubbles, while eternal things start up before you for the first time as awful realities. The dread tribunal seems already erected, and you stand before it, with neither the pardon nor the purity necessary for heaven; your tastes all carnal, and your soul neglected and abused, crying out of its wrongs. What is to be done? | The sentence of condemnation sounds in your ears, and in the agony of a guilty conscience you have a sad foretaste of coming wrath. Oh, you exI claim, if I had but a little longer to live, what a different man would I henceforth be! Well, it is granted. You are brought back from the gates of death, to your own surprise and joy. Immediately you set yourself to pay your vows which your lips uttered, and your mouth spake when you were in trouble. And you do it with the warmth of a grateful heart, and with the interest and freshness of a new employment. The companionship of fools is shunned; the society of Christians is sought: The unclean spirit has gone out of the man. Take another case. Some unexpected losses have stripped you of all your substance; or some object of tender affection You have resolved to join the fellowship of the Church. The novelty and solemnity of the step secure for it unusual seriousness of mind, and all that has any bearing upon it, either in your private reading, or in the public services, arrests your attention in a way quite new. At length the time arrives, and you are drawn within the circle of those who do show forth the Lord's death till He come. It is delightful. It seems the heavenliest act of your life. It is good to be there, and almost a pity to have to soil your now washen hands with the affairs of this dusty and dreary world: The unclean spirit has gone out of the man. Oh, if all such were thorough, how many of your "stony-ground "hearers of the word would, at this day, be bringing forth fruit who are as "trees twice dead." But now you will ask, Where lies the radical defect of all these? You will find it in our parable. But I must reserve it for one more meditation. Fourth Sunda y. THE UNCLEAN SPIRIT ENTERING IN AGAIN. Is it asked how the unclean spirit, once out, is allowed to enter in again? the parable itself supplies the answer. On returning to his house from whence he came out, he findeth it "EMPTY." No rival master to dispute his claims. The devil was out, but Christ was not in. No real change of Masters, of services, of felicities; of Christ for Felial, spiritual principles for those which were arnal, heavenly affections for earthly. The old n seemed to have been put off, but the new Lan was not put on; old things, one would think, passed away, but all things had not become A bundle of negatives make up the change. The man has never been "born again." With this view of the case agrees all that is id of the apostates, to whom we have alluded, in Hebrews and Peter. What, for example, is said of those who had "escaped the pollutions of the World through the knowledge of the Lord and Saour Jesus Christ?" "It is happened unto them," says the Apostle, "according to the true proverb, The dog is returned to his own vomit again, and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire." Now, why is it that a dog, after vomiting up anything nauseous to it, will by and by return and lick it up with relish? Why, because it is a dog, and has vomited up not its nature, but only its food, to which its nature only sends it back again. And why does the sow, when you have washed it clean, still return to its wallowing in the mire? Why, just because it is a sow still. You have not washed the sow out of it, and this being stronger in it than all that is done to it, it plays the sow again by an unerring instinct. Well, says the Apostle, it has happened unto them precisely as to those animals: their natures have never been changed; and therefore, after all, merely external changes-however great they seem to be, and however long their operation may last-they return at length by an equally unerring law in the spiritual kingdom, to themselves again. The same principle will be found to explain that difficult passage in the Hebrews. "Of those who were once enlightened, and had tasted of the heavenly gift," etc., it is added, "But, beloved, we hope better things of you, and things that accompany salvation" (literally "holding of salvation"*) though we thus speak;" implying, as I think, that none of the attainments * Καὶ ἐχόμενα σωτηρίας, HEB. vi. 9. and experiences of those referred to were of that character. "They went out from us (it may be said of such), but they were not of us; for if they had been of us they would have continued with us: but they went out that they might be made manifest that they were not all of us" (1 John ii. 19). But the relapse of such is usually gradual. At first there is lively interest in religion, and considerable relish for divine things. By little and little this cools. For a while they hardly own that to themselves. But when they can no longer shut their eyes to it, they flatter themselves it is but the loss of their first love," which no Christian can expect to preserve always at the same temperature: their hearts are still all right. But this by and by giving way, they think they are only now discovering how much evil there is in the best. "We aimed at a higher standard than can be maintained; and if we cannot be as good as we would, let us at least be as good as we may." And this letting down, by little and little, of the standard originally set up, is acquiesced in with a growing and fatal coolness. Next comes a growing return of carnal affections. The world re-assumes its faded charms, and sin its enticing forms. Still they stand aloof, and cling, though with ever feebler grasp, to what is right-like one hanging on the brink of a precipice by one slender twig. Now comes a growing neglect of secret prayer. For a while, as a duty it is punctually discharged. But it is irksome, and so curtailed; dwindling into wretched and hurried generalities. Then it is occasionally omitted; first for want of time, then for want of the proper frame, and by and by for no reason at all-though, perhaps, not quite given up. At length, there is a tampering with positive sin. The world, at each look, seems more engaging: as Eve looked at the forbidden fruit till she saw that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise; after which it was not long before she took of the fruit and did eat. Thus our backsliders in heart, not remembering Lot's wife, "look back," casting wistful looks back to Sodom which they have left, their hearts still in it. This is the critical period in their religious history. Now they are entering the net; now they are swallowing the bait. They remember some sin they mastered with difficulty. Long the desire after it seemed gone: now they begin to wonder if they could crave it, relish it again. If they were go back-but they have no intention of thatonly, if they were, they wonder whether they would now feel as they did before. So they try. They pass the rubicon, and now they find to their cost they can with dreadful facility and fatal zest be themselves again; like dogs which, once they have tasted blood, can never again live without it. The unclean spirit, perceiving how changed the soul is-serious thought dissipated, duty neglected, fear cast off, and sin tampered with-has understood the hint which this gives, how welcome his return will be, and he fails not to take it. But he is in no haste to seize his prey. So far from this, he deliberately "goeth away, and taketh with himself seven other spirits more wicked than himself”which we may understand of a sevenfold mightier and more infernal force than before-" and they enter in (they do not fight their way in, but, as I to may say, they walk the course, they enter in), and dwell there;" it is now their secure, undisturbed abode. But And so, "the last state of that man is worse than the first." But why "worse?" you will say. As bad, I could understand it to be; but why should it be worse? I answer, by several laws of the moral system. There is such a thing as God giving men over to a reprobate mind. "From him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath." Make the heart of this people fat, and their ears heavy, and shut their eyes; lest they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their hearts, and turn and be healed." Nor is the rage of the Wicked One to be overlooked in these mysterious escapes from him for a time and subsequent welcomings back. If he seeketh whom he may devour, we may well suppose that those whom he had nearly lost will, when regained, never be allowed, if he can help it, to disturb their dark possessor any more. over and above all this, there is a well-known and terrific law, by which habits and practices, abandoned with difficulty, and afterwards taking fresh possession, become more inveterate than ever be fore. All admit the truth of this in the victims, for example, of intemperance and licentiousness. But it is equally applicable to every other form of sin, and to irreligion in general. When men have struggled out of sin and afterwards relapsed, their confidence in the power of their own will, courage, and perseverance for all future time is destroyed; so that if they try it again, and succeed for a time, and even abide long in their better course, there creeps over them irresistibly the paralysing belief, that some day or other they will certainly give way, and this prophecy at length fulfils itself. Terrible illustrations of this are supplied by history; but indeed the truth of it will hardly be questioned by any thoughtful reader. Do we mean, then, to say, that every relapse in religion is fatal? God forbid. But what we mean to say is, that if a man is not thoroughly renewed, he will sooner or later show it, and that just in proportion to the extent of his apparent conversion will be eventually his worse than former estrangement from God. What, then, is the conclusion of this whole matter? It is, that there is no medium between the unclean spirit going out of the man, only to come in again, never more to go out, and the effectual expulsion of the strong man by the Stronger than he. And accordingly, though the reader may never have observed it, between those two parables in Luke there comes in this striking verse : He that is not with me is against me, and he that gathereth not with me, scattereth" (Luke xi. 23); by which I understand that the absence of positive attachment to Christ involves hostility to Him, and that neutrality with reference to him there is none. There is no safety for the heart of man but in cordial subjection to Christ. The palace is freed from the usurped dominion of the strong man, only to become the willing recipient of the Stronger than he. Freedom from both is impossible. But subjection to Christ is the law of liberty. "If the Son," then dear readers, shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed." DAVID BROWN. THE RELIGION OF LIFE. ILLUSTRATED AND APPLIED. BY THOMAS GUTHRIE, D.D. CHAP. IV.-" PURE AND UNDEFILED BEFORE GOD AND THE FATHER." gates, each a pearl, and opening on streets of gold, had a meaning. Standing open, and never shut by day or night, they betoken the security enjoyed by the blessed inhabitants; and also how open heaven has been made to every sinner who seeks it through the blood of Christ. Approach it in the right way, and whatever may have been your character, and is unchallenged-without let or hindrance. No armed sentinels, as at earthly palaces, guard the gates that invite alike the feet of prince and beggar-Whosoever believeth in the Lord Jesus Christ shall not perish, but have everlasting life. But by these twelve gates John never meant that there are as many different ways of getting into heaven. This portion of sacred Scripture is a figure. It is to be understood within limits; and is no more to be pushed too far than many of our Lord's parables. There is but one way to the kingdom of God-to a state of grace in this world, and a state of glory in the next. I, says Jesus, am the way, the truth, the life; not one of many ways, but the one way. Come unto me, he also says, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest; and in perfect harmony with these declarations is that of an apostle, "There is no name given under heaven whereby man can be saved but the name of Jesus." There is but one true religion, "pure and undefiled before God." THE sky which, whether studded with stars or hung in gold and purple, or one azure field over which the sun wheels his glowing course, presents always a glorious, occasionally presents a very extraordinary appearance. Not one but two suns are there; and in the Arctic regions, as if to compensate the long periods when their skies are left to perpetual night, there are sometimes three-your age, country, or condition, you are free to enter blazing away in brilliant rivalry, and shedding increase of light on sparkling icebergs and the dreary wastes of snow. Yet, though there were not three but three hundred suns, only one of them could be a true sun. The others, which are produced by a peculiar state of the atmosphere, being, though bright, yet mere images, are analogous, to borrow a familiar illustration, to the multiplied candles that shine on the silvered facets of a reflector. As with these suns, so is it with the various religious systems of the world. They are many; numbered not by units, but hundreds. Almost every new country that voyagers have discovered has, with new trees and new flowers and new animals, presented a new form of faith. The world has no building big enough to hold all the gods that men do worship. Yet, though greater in number, and much greater in essential differences, than the races of mankind-for, differing in colour and contour as the negro and the white man do, they meet in Adam, God having made of one blood all the families of the earth-among these many religions there is but one true; the rest are falsefalse as the mock suns of an arctic sky. For as God is one, truth is one; and though the true may be separated from the false by a line as sharp as the edge of a razor, still they stand as irreconcilable as if they were parted by the whole distance of the poles. There are "lords many, and gods many," yet but one true God; even so there are many faiths and forms of religion, and yet but one "pure and undefiled before God." It has been said that there are many ways of going out of the world, and but one of coming into it; and it may be said there are many roads to hell, and but one to heaven. No doubt, in John's vision, where the final state and place of the blessed was represented as a glorious city, with streets of pure gold, and walls built of precious gems, all shining in light, that fell neither from sun nor moon, but streamed out in dazzling effulgence from the throne of God, he saw not one gate, but twelve. These We have this religion in our Bible. There it flows unadulterated and undefiled, fresh and pure as it came from the upper spring. Let us draw it at this well-not taking our faith from man or minister, but directly from the word of God; lest it should be like water that acquires a poisonous quality from the leaden pipes it flows through. Yet though we have the true religion here, how many mistake what religion is; its real character; and in what its true life consists! They fancy themselves to be religious; and that all is right when all is wrong with them. There is a sense in which he that doubteth is damned; but are not many damned just because they never doubt? They go on, satisfied with themselves; not doubting but that they are on the right course, when every step they take leads them farther and farther astray. Sincere they may be; but it is not enough to be sincere. Sincerity and zeal, as well as ease of mind, and peace of conscience, may but more surely seal their fatal, utter ruin. For it stands to reason that the What need, therefore, faster and farther a man goes, if he take the wrong direction at starting, he goes but the farther wrong the more sail she carries, the more steam she puts on, the greater the impetus with which she takes the reef, the ship is sooner and more surely wrecked. since there is but one safe course to heaven, that we should often take soundings! Why was that noble steamer which was wrecked some months ago on the coast of England lost? not simply because she was caught in the sea mist, nor because she was often thrown out of her course by porting her helm to avoid collisions, but from false security for want of soundings! They had no doubt they were right, till the dreadful cry of breakers and a sudden crash too late revealed their danger. And if we would not make shipwreck of the faith, nor run the risk of never discovering our mistake till we find ourselves at the door of hell, or stand at the bar of judgment, to here with black amazement the unexpected sentence, "Depart from me, for I have never known you, ye workers of iniquity," we will try our religion-put it to the test-see whether it is true religion, that which, to use the words of James, is " pure and undefiled before God and the Father." What, then, is the character of this religion? There are two ways of describing a thing-first, showing what it is not; and second, what it is. Now, to follow, meanwhile, the first of these methods, I purpose showing that-True religion does not lie in talking about it. In our church and country the pulpit has all the speaking. In Jewish synagogues, as appears from our Lord's history, it was not so. Any person in the assembly who had got anything good to say, might say it. It appears from the Epistles that this custom was engrafted on the Christian church, and flourished in its early days; and some who abused this privilege, and, being talkative and conceited, were, perhaps, ever thrusting themselves on the public notice, may have been in his eye, when James, laying down a rule valuable at all ages, and at all times, said, Be swift to hear, and slow to speak. Though the customs of the church have changed with time, and speaking in public is now commonly confined to the pulpit, there is still danger-and especially in these times of religious excitement of fancying, because we can and do talk about religion, that we are religious. There are individual as well as national peculiarities; and, in this country, the common error certainly is not to talk too much, but too little, about religion; or, at least, too little religiously. In Scotland, at least, we are taciturn; and carry our proverbial canniness to a fault. How little do those of us who are undoubtedly on the way to heaven resemble a body of emigrants on ship board-on their way across the ocean to America! Listen to that group of men, women, and children that have seen their native hills sink below the wave, and, now leaning over the bows, are looking a-head! Compared with theirs, how little does our conversation turn on the land in prospect; its employments; its enjoyments; the friends that wait our coming? Throwing off false shame, let us be more faithful to the souls of men, and to a world that lieth in wickedness; and much more free in converse with each other about the Prince and the things of the heavenly kingdom— after the manner of the men of old, of whom it is said, They that feared the Lord spake often one to another. Still it should not be forgotten, lest any deceive themselves, that to talk about religion, ministers and sermons, missions and missionaries, religious schemes and books, revivalists and revivals, is not religion. Some have been the most fluent talkers about these things who felt them least. Shallow rivers are commonly noisy rivers; and the drum is loud because it is hollow. Fluency and feeling don't always go together. On the contrary, some men are most sparing of speech when their feelings are most deeply engaged. I have been told that there is an awful silence in the ranks before the first gun is fired, and little talking heard during the dreadful progress of the battle, or sound, save the roar of cannon, the cries of wounded, the shouts of attack, the burst of musketry, and bugles sounding the charge. And I have also heard men say, that when the ship is labouring for her life, and every moment may decide her fate, and whether she shall clear reef or headland hangs in anxious suspense, there is no talking, nothing heard amid the roaring of the storm but the voice of officers, as they shout forth their orders-to cut away the mast-let go the sails— or put the helm hard-a-port. Deep passions, like deep waters, often run silent; and men in earnest are more given to act than to talk. True, Out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh; still, the fuller the heart is, the less fluent sometimes is the speech. There are things too deep for utterance. Strong gratitude, deep love, are not fluent ; nor is intense anxiety. The sight of her child wrapped in flames, or tottering on the edge of a precipice, has paralysed its mother; rooted to the ground-she has gazed in speechless horror, unable to raise a shriek, or move a foot to save it. Besides, owing, perhaps, to constitutional peculiarities, the religion of some has its most perfect emblem in Christ's own words, Ye are the light of the world. It is a thing seen, not heard; it shines, but it makes no sound; not often found on their lips, but always in their lives. Who, f A Maintain the glory of His cross, And honour all His laws. "Jesus, my Lord! I know His name, Nor will He put my soul to shame, Nor let my hope be lost." that ever heard, has forgotten a story told by Dr. Chalmers when he pleaded for the right of Christian congregations to reject a minister against whom they felt, but could not state, objections? woman sought admission to the Lord's table. At her examination she broke down; unable to give Religion does not lie in cherishing bitter feelings her pastor any satisfactory answers, she was or using harsh language towards those who differ dumb, or her replies were such as made her ap-from us. "Be slow to wrath," says James, "for the pear stupid and ignorant. He did not feel that he could admit her to the table of the Lord; and told her so. Cut to the heart she rose; she reached the door; but, ere she left, with the tear shining in her eye, and in tones that went to the good man's heart, she said, referring to our Lord, "Sir, though I cannot speak for Him, I could die 1 for Him!" Blessed speech! and blessed woman! the gate of heaven was opening to her advancing steps! Such love to Jesus Christ is the soul of true religion. And without their becoming loud talk ers, or making a parade of piety, it will lead those that feel its power to "exhort one another daily;" to try to bring sinners to the Saviour; and—as many who have overcome a false modesty are now doing—to seize all opportunities of dealing faithfully with other men about their souls. Why should not we tell others the way to heaven, if we ourselves have found it? Why should not we warn a man who, unconscious of his danger, is approaching the brink of ruin? Why should not we snatch the poisoned chalice from a brother's lips? Why should not we reach a hand down to the drowning, and pluck him from the jaws of death, and seat him beside us on the rock where there is room for both? If people are loud in the praises of the physician who has cured them of some deadly malady-recommending others to trust and seek his skill, why should not Christ's people Crown Him with equal honours, commend Him to a dying world, and proclaim what He has done for them? Let them say with David, Come, all ye that far the Lord, and I will tell what He hath done for my soul; and tread in the steps of the Samaritan who threw away her pitcher, and, running to the city, brought them all out-crying, Come see a man who hath told me all things that I have ever done. 3 It is a bad thing ostentatiously to parade religion; but it is a base thing for a Christian man to be ashamed of it; not to stand by his colours; by his silence, if not his speech, to deny his Master; to sneak away, like a coward, out of the Sight. Stand up for Christ everywhere; speak for Him; suffer the scorn of the world for Him; and, among the ungodliest crew, quit you like men, saying, "I'm not ashamed to own my Lord, Or to defend His cause, wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God. If any man among you seem to be religious and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain." From a small town that lay in the bosom of gently swelling hills, rose, some with spires and some without them, three or four churches, belonging to the chief denominations of our country-the sign at once of our religious liberties and religious earnestness. On a sweet summer evening a traveller looked along the valley on this peaceful scene, when a shower of rain was falling. Suddenly the sun broke out, and flung a bright bow on the cloud, that, like that of mercy, discharged its showers on all. The rainbow encircled within its arms suburb and city, lofty church and humble meeting-house. And was it not a true and happy fancy that saw in this heavenly bow an emblem of that covenant which, irrespective of minor differences, embraces all believers within the same arms of mercy? How different from this genial spirit that of gloomy Bigotry! Scowling on charity, it would probably pronounce that thought about the rainbow to have more poetry than piety in it. I would not be uncharitable even to uncharitableness; but it is very unlovely. It holds the truth; but it is in unrighteousness. It contends for the truth; but it is with unholy passions-often persuading itself that it is religious when it is but rancorous. Some appear to think that to be narrow-minded, is to be heavenly-minded. A great mistake! The black, bitter sloe of the hedges appears in the garden with the fair hues and sweet juices of the plum; and it is certainly no proof that a man's temper is sanctified that it is sour. Christians never should forget the meaning hidden in the very form which the Holy Spirit assumed when he dropped from the skies on our Saviour's head. The rapacious eagle, grasping thunderbolts in his talons, and sacred to Jove among the heathens, or rushing down from the rock on his quarry, has been the favourite ensign of bloody conquerors, and ambitious kings; now, not it, but that gentle bird which, they say, has no gall, and is sacred to love, and whose snowy plumage was never dyed with a victim's blood, descends yonder by the quiet banks of Jordan on the head of Jesus. I do not say that religious men have never cherished an exclusive and narrow spirit. I admit that some excellent men have done so. |