THE SOUL'S WELFARE.

GOD AS VIEWED IN NATURE AND REVELATION.

BY MR. T. GOODLIFFE, NOTTINGHAM.

It is not one of the least cheering signs of these times of ours, that reason and revelation have ceased to be looked upon as two opposing things. The old dogma that the exercise of a true faith demands the surrender of our reason is now exploded, and with a clearer and less short-sighted view, do men now endeavour to discern the agreement with their own reasoning faculties of that which is put before them as matter of belief. Much do we rejoice in this advance, for we rest assured that not one tittle of Divine truth shall fall before the minutest search or the keenest scrutiny, while the false glosses and the perverted interpretations which have been put upon the pure word, and which have done discredit to that which they have misrepresented shall be exposed, and for ever put to flight. As illustrating one point of the agreement between the teaching of the Scriptures and that of our reasoning faculties, derived from the observation of nature around us, we would proceed to inquire, what is taught us in the book of nature with reference to the Divine Being, and whether man can discover God unaided by revelation. In approaching this question we must acknowledge its difficulty, because we have not in the least measure the positive guidance of experience to direct us; we know of no time, we can hear of no age in which mankind has not been blessed with some revelation of himself by the Eternal. From the first dawn of history, he has spoken at sundry times and in divers manners. Therefore, we have no record of any people, or any race, who have for themselves, unaided by this direct revelation, or by tradition of it, arrived at the conclusion that there is and must be a presiding Deity. Nevertheless, it may not be impossible to put together a few reasons from which we may conclude whether or no, man can arrive at this couviction unassisted by the revealed word of God. And so far as we have the means of judging, it seems evident we might answer in the affirmative.

For, in the first place, man cannot deceive himself into the vain and foolish notion, that the glorious system of which our world forms but a small portion, that the innumerable stars, and planets, and systems revolving through the boundless fields of space in myriads too vast for man to number; that the minute beauties which are every where discernible in our planet; that the glorious diversity and yet harmony of "hill and dale, and flowing stream," that the lofty mountain and the lonely glen, the wide prairie and the boundless ocean, all covered and teeming with their own forms and exhibitions of material beauty, into which the more minutely we search, the more we are lost in wonder and amazement -are the productions of a blind chance, or of a stern necessity. They all bespeak a glorious, an all-powerful, an all-wise contriver.

But not chiefly do we ground this belief on the outward circumstances which bespeak God-as the great Creator, the great contriver; for man has within himself a still small voice, whose silent whispers though oft drowned by the swell of passion, or the hum of busy care, will yet sometimes rise within him, and speak of himself, of the long dark VOL. II. F.

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abode whither he is tending, of a future state, and of a coming judgment; and above all rises the idea, that if he is thus responsible for his actions, and his life, there must be a Great First Cause, before whom the burden of that responsibility shall be judged.

Go down to the rudest, the most barbarous of the races of men, and amongst them you shall find reverence paid to some Supreme Being, sacrifice offered to the Great Spirit. If there were not this intuitive voice in the human heart, proclaiming the existence of God, what heed would the tribes of earth, pay to the announcement of tidings concerning that Being, of his love, his pity towards our fallen race. The glad message would meet no responsive echo from the stirred spirit of the listener, and would fall unheeded and uncared for, like the good seed upon the trodden pavement, or the refreshing drops of heaven's dew upon the flinty rock. Moreover, the Bible itself never stays to attempt to prove that there is a God. At once it announces, "In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth,"-telling us what God has done, taking it for granted that it needs no authoritative announcement to declare that He is. This thought alone is, we think, sufficient to confirm us in the conviction that our opinion has for itself the stamp of truth, the Divine sanction.

Yet, with all this, meagre and unsatisfactory must we acknowledge such light to be, unaided by the glorious rays which the lamp of divine truth sheds forth. It is like groping in the dim twilight, through the walls of a lofty and magnificent temple. Dim and misty forms of sublime beauty attract our attention, but in vain the eye strives to discern the grand proportions, or the elaborate adornments of which they are possessed, and it is only in the full light of the noonday sun, that in all its completeness, in all its glory, the grandeur bursts upon the bewildered, the enraptured gaze. But a faint comparison is this, of the contrast between the character of the knowledge we can have of the Divine Being-merely from our own conception, or imagination; and the full display of His perfections we have in His written word. Strange, black, and fearful, are the pictures which some have drawn of their imaginary deities. Monsters, the embodiment of all that is fiendish, instead of God-like, whose delight is in blood, and torture, and in cruelty. They who have worshipped them have become like unto them, until the assertion has been most fully verified, “The dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty." Tax the loftiest intellect, the deepest spiritual research of the most enlightened of the heathen philosophers, and you can find nothing equal or approaching to the lofty strains in which inspired penmen tell forth Jehovah's attributes and fame. Do you ask of His power? They tell you that, "before Him the earth shook and trembled; the foundations also of the hills moved and were shaken, because he was wroth. Yea, that but at his word, the heavens and earth, the sun, and moon, and stars, sprang into being, and teemed with joyous life." But what to us is all his power and might, if he is only a God stern to avenge the wrongs done to his rule, and rigorous to exact the full payment of the dread debt we all have incurred by our transgressions. That very might only serves to render him more terrible to our awakened conscience. Where in nature can we turn to discover any way, whereby God may be just, and yet man's transgression be forgiven? Alas! the silence of the grave pervades all space as we put the solemn enquiry. No response is heard; but all around seems to tell by its mournful silence, that there is no hope, no escape. The sentence of death pronounced upon the first transgressor is universally carried out. All things are hastening to decay, the giant oak bows beneath the weight of years, the stately forms of the animal creation fall before the universal destroyer, and man departs to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets. Only in the sacred volume may you learn the marvellous compassion, the wondrous pity with which God regards the disobedient creatures whom His hands had formed, and

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who had received from him the breath of life. There only can you hear the message with joy, that " He so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Thus while on this side we rejoice in the dignity which God has stamped upon man's nature, by the gift of his lofty reasoning faculties, making him but a little lower than the angels; we are equally called to mourn over the ruin of that once noble fabric: that ruin we perceive not least in the investigation of the subject we have been considering. Remnants of our nature's former greatness we have amidst its utmost decay, but how much more excelling should be our soug of praise and thanksgiving, that we have not been left to the dim, the flickering, the uncertain guide of the torch of reason; but that in the full, the glorious revelation, which it is our inestimable privilege to possess, we have the Deity revealed to us by Himself, in his most gracious, most endearing attributes.-God, as our father, our friend, and an everlasting habitation.

JACOB'S VOICE AND ESAU'S HANDS.

BY REV. J. JENKINSON, OAKHAM.

"THE Soul's Welfare" is inseparably connected with sincerity and uprightness. Others may be improved upon, but God is not mocked; for "whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap." Jacob, as well as thousands besides, found it so to his cost. He defrauded his brother and deceived his father in the attainment of the blessing, and was in after years, himself imposed upon and wronged by Laban in the matter of Leah, and by his sons when they brought him Joseph's blood-stained coat.

But though deception is hateful to God, it is natural to man. Hence, although the deceiver is generally his own dupe;—although he sullies his character-mars his peace, and endangers his safety,—the practice is extensively pursued. Children, unless wisely taught and vigilantly guided, speedily acquire it; tradesmen in countless myriads with greater or less cleverness and success avail themselves of it; politicians and statesmen daily act upon it, and warriors applaud it. It exists in all lands-is found in all countries, and alas! is too frequently detected in families and individuals whose religious principle might have been supposed sufficient entirely to exclude it. The household of Isaac was governed in the fear of God; his children were doubtless taught to abhor every false and evil way; and although the elder indulged in profanity and vice, the younger appears, even in early life, to have sought the kingdom of God and his righteousness. Yet the inspired historian informs us that this hopeful youth, acting under the influence and instigation of his partial and mistaken mother, perpetrated an act of base deception on his righteous father. True, the hand of God was in this, but the fact that Jacob thus obtained the blessing presents no excuse for his falsehood and duplicity.

In this case, as in many others, deception involved incongruity. Rebekah found it easy to clothe her favourite son in Esau's raiment, and conceal the smoothness of his hands beneath the skins of the goats, but she forgot that the voice would still be that of Jacob. Integrity is always consistent,-imposture frequently incongruous. Yet in our own day there are not wanting characters who remind us of the appearance of Jacob as he stood before his venerable father.

1.—The intelligent but immoral parent. His conversation is perhaps interesting—his information, extensive—his instructions, judicious—his manners, pleasing; but alas!-his

conduct is vicious-his reputation lost-his ruin imminent, and only deferred until now by the dishonest gain he has acquired. His voice is that of Jacob, but his hands are those of Esau.

2.—The self-seeking politician. His pretensions on the hustings may be popular-his promises, fair-his manner, courteous-his talents, splendid-his eloquence, imposing— his address insinuating; but no sooner has he secured the object of his ambition than he begins to render his position and his power subservient, not to the interests of the community but to his own. His voice is Jacob's, but his hands are the hands of Esau.

3.-The unsanctified religious professor. His views may be clear-his creed, scriptural —his attendance on the service of the sunday, regular—his disposition, affable—his discourse, religious; but sin not only dwells in his heart but reigns there, and often breaks forth flagrantly in his life. His language is that of the eminent saint, his character that of the unconverted sinner.

4.—The ungodly preacher. His sermons may be scriptural—his thoughts, profound— his language, eloquent and beautiful—his utterance, fervid and flowing—his deportment, engaging and prepossessing; insomuch, that crowds may hear him with admiration and delight, and many amongst them regard him with christian gratitude and love. But fathom him in his retirement from the house of God, and you will behold him plunging into vice, revelling in forbidden pleasures, indulging unhallowed tempers and passions, and, in short, acting so as to compel the conclusion, that wickedness is his delight, his religion merely professional. His voice is the voice of Jacob, but his hands are the hands of Esau.

Thus it is, and thus it ever has been. Thousands of these characters are found in the apostate church of Rome; and alas! in all Protestant denominations too! Paul's traducers in the Church of Corinth were of this stamp. So also were the Pharisees. But the most flagrant instance on record is, that of the base traitor who drew near to his benevolent Lord and said "Hail Master!" and kissed him, for the very purpose of thereby marking him out to the band of ruffians who were about to consign him to an ignominious death. Verily in this case, although the voice was that of Jacob, the hands were preeminently the hands of Esau.

THE MISSIONARY.

THE summer of the year 1804 was nearly ended, when a young man was often seen walking alone in the wild and romantic scenery of the mountains of Cornwall. There was one quiet retired spot, to which he often chose, in the evening, to direct his steps. An arm of the sea, which separates this part of the coast from Wales, extened itself peacefully between the green hills, and the silence was disturbed only by the gentle splashing of the waves, or the sweet notes of a lonely singing bird. The wanderer seemed lost in deep and sometimes painful thoughts, aud when he silently raised his eyes to heaven, he lifted his heart in prayer to him to whom we have access through Christ. The expression of holy peace, which in these moments overspread his countenance, showed clearly that his silent prayers were not in vain, and had entered the ears of the Lord of hosts. He often waited till the shades of evening came on, and he seemed unwilling to leave his favourite spot. He sought it as a place for private prayer and meditation, and he loved to be alone with God.