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RELIGION IN HEART AND LIFE.

fidelity, the wantonness, revenge, malice, and other evil passions which are within. Men are generally more cautious of their actions than of their words; they can speak their minds when they cannot act : and therefore may be better known by their words than their actions.

Besides, does anything produce greater mischief in the world than words, little as men think of them. What tends more to corrupt men's lives than lewd and wanton talk? St. Paul tells us that "evil communications corrupt good manners." What makes more divisions in the world, and gives greater disturbance to neighbourhoods, families, and private persons, than slandering, backbiting, and talebearing? And if words can do so much mischief in the world, it is very fit that God should judge us for them and then it is very fit that we should be very careful of the words we utter.-Sherlock on Judgment, pp. 301 -304.

No. CXXIV.

"The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe." (Prov. xviii. 10.)

"Who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us." (Heb. vi. 18.)

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Hence some have defined faith to be the flight of the soul unto Christ for deliverance from sin and misery. And much light is given unto the understanding of the thing intended thereby. For herein it is supposed that he who believeth is antecedently thereunto convinced of his lost condition; and that if he abide therein he must perish eternally; that he hath nothing of himself whereby he may be delivered from it; that he must betake himself unto somewhat else for relief; that unto this end he considereth Christ as "set before him," and proposed unto him in the promise of the Gospel; that he judgeth this to be a holy, a safe way for his deliverance and acceptance with God, as that which hath the characters of all Divine excellencies upon it. Hereupon he flieth unto it for refuge: that is, with diligence and speed, that he perish not in his present condition. He betakes himself to it, by placing his whole trust and affiance thereon. And the whole nature of our justification by Christ is better declared hereby unto the supernatural sense and experience of believers, than by a hundred philosophical disputations about it.Owen's "Doctrine of Justification by Faith," p. 424. Edit. 1677.

Religion in Heart and Life.

RICHARD BAXTER: CHARLES II.:

JUDGE JEFFREYS.

(Concluded.)

AFTER the death of Charles II., foes and difficulties continued to environ Baxter, but his great heart never failed. In James's ascension no ray of light brightened the clouds which darkened his prospect. It had been intimated by the Duke of York that Baxter was designed for jail before the death of Charles; and his trial for the sentiments contained in his "Paraphrase of the New Testament" is, perhaps, unparalleled in court records. By warrant of Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys, he was committed to the King's Bench Prison. Jeffreys was born in 1648, and his cruelty and political profligacy will be reprobated

long as the sun and the moon shall endure. The opening, progress, and issue of this trial are full of incident. Polixfen was leading counsel for Baxter. "Polixfen," cried Jeffreys, in the midst of his defence, "I know you well. I will set a mark upon you. You are a patron of the faction. This is an old rogue who has poisoned the world with his Kidderminster doctrine; an old schismatic knave; a hypocritical villain." Further on he again interrupted Polixfen: "What ailed the old blockhead, the unthankful villain that he would not conform? Was he wiser or better than other men? I am sure he hath poisoned the world with his linsey-woolsey-doctrine. Hang him. This one old fellow hath cast more reproaches upon the constitution and discipline of the church than will be

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RELIGION IN HEART AND LIFE.

wiped off this hundred years; but I'll handle him for it. He deserves to be whipped through the city." Turning to Baxter, he exclaimed, "Richard, I see the

rogue in thy face." "Indeed! my Lord," quietly replied Baxter; "I was not aware that my face was a mirror before." "Richard! Richard!" cried the Judge, "thou art an old fellow, an old knave; thou hast written books enough to load a cart, every one as full of sedition-I might say treason as an egg is full of meat. Hadst thou been whipped out of thy writing trade forty years ago it had been happy. I know thou hast a mighty party, and I see a great many of the brotherhood in corners, waiting to see what will become of their mighty don; but, by the grace of Almighty God, I'll crush you all. Come, what do you say for yourself, you old knave? Come, speak up. What doth he say? I am not afraid of you for all the snivelling calves you have got about you." "I am not concerned to answer such stuff," cried Baxter; "but am ready to produce my writings for the confutation of all this; and my life and conversation are known to many in this nation."

Of course Baxter was found guilty, heavily fined, and condemned to lie in prison till he had paid the whole. Thus ended one of the most disgraceful trials of the times. For two long years this godly man remained in prison, happy in the conscious possession of the Divine favour, and in the conviction that God would so direct all individual and national events as to make his own sufferings conduce to religious and civil freedom.

On the 8th of December, 1691, Richard Baxter died in great peace, and in fervent hope of the resurrection from the dead and the final judgment. A day or two before, he cried: "I have great pain; there is no arguing against sense, but I have peace, I have peace." To one who asked him how he did, he replied, "Almost

well." Being asked whether he had altered his mind on controversial points, he said: "Those that please may know my mind in my writings, and what I have written is not for my own reputation, but for the glory of God." Many of his death-bed utterances are worthy the attention of every believer. They prove that he was on the Rock from which

earth and hell can never remove the soul. He looked forward with joy to "the saints' everlasting rest" with cloudless hope and unfaltering confidence. Long had he fought, and bravely too. His great heart had never failed; and now yielding to the power of that foe before which the lofty and the mean alike bow, cherubic hosts would celebrate the praises of his work before the throne of God in heaven for ever.

Richard Baxter was a great man. His scholarship is evidenced by his "Critical Edition of Anacreon;" of "Horace;" and the "Dictionary of British Antiquities." He stood forth in an age when power was corrupt, a man of pure and inflexible principle, of unwearying patience and self-denial, of indomitable courage and caution, of hallowed and upright life, and of ardent and quenchless love to God and the souls of men.

We would All parties

We honour him as a man. do justice to his talents. recognised, in his own day, his genius and eloquence. He was-to include all great qualities in one-emphatically a man of God. Then, eminent characters were not rare. They stood forth all great and good; but he was among them what Paul was among the Apostles. It is difficult in these modern times, when it costs no sacrifice to defend principles, to appreciate his character. We have freedom of worship, an open Bible, good laws, an unfettered press, and a glorious and most gracious Queen; but who fought for and gained these privileges? That illustrious band, among whom Baxter stood preeminent. Let the youthful aspirants for honour imitate their example, and they will secure for themselves laurels that will be green and flourishing when the religious shams of our day shall have lost their gaudy lustre, and see, to their shame, the tendency of their work.

"Servant of God, well done!

Rest from thy loved employ:
The battle fought, the victory won,
Enter thy Master's joy.

"The pains of death are pass'd,

Labour and sorrow cease,
And life's long warfare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.
"Soldier of Christ, well done!

Praise be thy new employ;
And while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour's joy."
Wolverhampton.
J. F. M.

Narratives.

RELIANCE UPON GOD.

JUST at the foot of the Pentland-Hills lay, years ago, an old farmhouse, of the plainest kind, built of rough stone, and roofed with thatch, but shaded by venerable trees, and cheered by a "bonnie burn wimpling" over its pebbly bed. That was the home of Sandy Morrison. The only thing about him really attractive was his large, clear, hazel eye, which lay beneath his shaggy brow, like a deep fountain among the brown hills of his native land.

Sandy was a child of nature in all his ways; honest, industrious, and shrewd: simple, indeed, as a child; and yet thoughtful as a sage. He walked with God as friend with friend. When he prayed, he seemed to talk with God face to face.

Philosophers would have called him a mystic. He had never heard the word; and had it been applied to him in his hearing, and its meaning explained, he would have said, "Hoot, man, ye needna gae round about seeking the nearest to explain a thing sae simple."

Sandy had a perfect trust in the Providence of God. "The Lord reigneth," he would say; 66 everything is wisely ordered, and will come out right in the end."

This accounts for Sandy's peace and joy. "You see," said he, explaining the matter in his peculiar fashion, "years gane by, I believed just as others do, who have a form of godliness, but deny the power thereof. I didna understand; and, above all, I did not love God. I was worrying about this, that, and the other. Things were nae richt. Wife and I were puir, ye ken, and had to work hard; but we didna mind that sae long as we had health and strength. We lived in a bonnie place. The sun shone cheerily on our bit housie, among the roses and honeysuckles that my auld mither had planted wi' her ain hand. And, mair than that, the Lord sent us a bonnie bairn. Hech! the wee thing seemed an angel in disguise, wi' its yellow hair,

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"But the Lord took her to Himself. 0, how we grat when we laid her in the yird! And Mary (that's my wife's name) began to fail. She could nae tell what was the matter wi' her. The doctor said she had a weakness in the chest. But it made our hame unco dowie like. Everything seemed to gae wrang, and I murmured sair against the Lord. The warld looked waefu', and I would have liked to dee.

"But I began to think. I seemed to come to myself; then my mind was unco dark. Then I read the Bible, and prayed. Our neebor, auld Mr. Wallace, a gude man, told us to look to the Rock o' Ages, and see if the Lord wad nae open for us the fountain o' consolation.

"Then I saw, but not very clearly at first, that there was anither world; anither kingdom like, spiritual and eternal, as holy Mr. Rutherford wud say. This warld is only a husk or shell. The substance, the spirit, is anither. And a' is full o' God. Then I saw wee Mary, whose body we laid in the grave, wakin' in that warld of licht and peace. I heard her singin' there wi' the angels o' God. I heard the voice o' Jesus, sayin', 'Peace, peace!' It came like the sweetest music to my puir heart!

"Then I understood how blind, unbelievin', and wicked I had been; and said to myself, 'What's the use of murmuring?' The Redeemer liveth, and blessed be His name! I will jist put myself and a' I have under the shadow o' His wings.

"Says I to my wife, 'Mary, we maun believe in God. He's a' and in a'. He gave us our bonnie bairn, and He's taen her again; for she was His mair than ours; and noo she's an angel. She wunna come to us, but we will go to her. And noo ye maun be comforted.'

"And we kneeled down thegither, and prayed to the God o' our fathers, the God o' our bairn, and were comforted.

"Then the warld appeared to me in a

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new licht. It was filled wi' the holy presence o' God. I saw that a' was His, -licht and darkness, simmer and winter, sorrow and joy, death and life,-and that He was governing a' things according to the counsels o' His ain will."

THE BELGIAN MINER.

YEARS ago, in the deep heart of a mountain in Belgium, a hundred men were working in a coal-mine.

Grim-visaged and dusky, moving about by the dull red light of their safety lamps, they might have been mistaken for the demons of the mountains, once supposed by the peasants to dwell in their caves. Their work was hard, and surrounded by dangers; but their wives and children were in the hamlet above, and long habit made them forget their perils. So they might be contented, and even happy.

The creaking windlass raised and lowered a huge bucket through the deep and narrow shaft, from morning till night, carrying men and tools to and fro. This was their only doorway.

It was noonday, and the sun shone down one side of the shaft, and brought a glimmer of daylight to a part of the mine, when Hubert Goffin, the master-miner, took his place in the great basket, and was let down to the mine many feet below. When he reached the bottom, he commenced handing some tools and stores to Victor, a blind miner, who was waiting there.

Victor had left a sick child in one of the cottages, and it was to inquire after him that he stood waiting at the bottom of the shaft.

The bucket was soon emptied, and Hubert was just stepping out, whenhark what sound was that which made his cheek pale? It was the rushing and trickling of water. The next moment he caught sight of a stream forcing itself through a fissure in the mountain close to the shaft! Hubert's long experience instantly showed him their full danger. It was not a feeble, oozing stream; but a mighty pressure of water that had found its outlet here. They would be overwhelmed-lost.

One foot was yet in the bucket; a jerk at the rope would save him. But, though

death stared him in the face, he could not sacrifice others to save himself. Quickly jumping out, he seized blind Victor, and placed him in the bucket, saying quickly, as he jerked the rope, "Tell them the water has burst in, and we are probably lost; but we will seek refuge at the further end of the gallery. Say farewell to our poor friends." In a moment he was gone, and with him Hubert's only certainty of escape from a terrible death.

The mine consisted of long narrow passages, and, on all sides, deep caves from which the coal had been dug. The men were all at the further end of the mine, hewing out the solid mountain, unconscious of danger. Hubert quickly made his way along the dark passage, followed by the swift-spreading water, and soon reached his fellow-workmen with the dreadful intelligence. It was a moment of panic, when each would have rushed to certain death in a vain effort to save himself. But, looking firmly into their ghastly faces, the master spoke a few courageous sentences:

"Follow my words, lads, and be quick; our picks may save us!"

Then came a few steady, quick commands, to hollow a new chamber above the level the water would probably reach. The men obeyed in silence, though each knew not but that he might be digging his own grave. A hundred pairs of hands soon finished the work, and into the cave a hundred men crowded to wait for death, or an almost impossible chance of relief. The water gradually filled all the old avenues and chambers, and then seemed stayed. Never was a situation more dreadful. Not more than a day's provisions had been saved, and already two or three of their number had been killed by the falling rocks, while hastily digging the new chamber. The long, dismal hours, with no change to mark them, brought the advance of almost certain death.

Courage, brave Hubert! God, who saw thy noble sacrifice, will help thee !

The terrified friends and townsmen on hearing Victor's dreadful news, ran wildly about in hopeless panic. But soon, guided by the message Hubert had sent, they commenced working a new shaft as near as possible to the spot where the hapless

METHODISM IN FORMER DAYS.

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At length, on the morning of the sixth day, the muffled sound of blows from within met the ears of the workmen in the shaft. A signal ran along the rope, and told the news to the waiting multitude above, who rent the air with joyful shouts. Soon a communication was made. They were saved; at least, some were saved!

Who can imagine the feelings of the unfortunate men, buried for five days and nights without food, when first the day gleamed in upon them, revealing a human face?

Of the hundred who had been imprisoned, over seventy survived, and with them Hubert. Without him, indeed,

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probably no one would have been spared to tell the story.

This noble act, done in a place and at a moment when no praise of men could have been looked for, echoed throughout Europe, and obtained the praise and gratitude of the world. The ten thousand miners of Liege hailed their fellow-labourer with delight and pride. Napoleon heard of the event in his palace in Paris, and sent a reward to that grand peasant. He sent him his Cross of Honour, the mark which all the high and great coveted; and, better still, offered him a pension, which raised him above want for the rest of his life. When

God unfolds in heaven the secret charity of men, many such heroes shall stand revealed; whom the earth and the waves have covered, sending no testimony to the world. Their " Father, who seeth in secret, shall reward" them "openly."

Methodism in former Days.

ORIGINAL LETTERS.
MRS. FLETCHER TO MRS. CROSBY.

"Monday, August 21st, 1787. "MY VERY DEAR FRIENDS,-I have this morning received yours, but have not seen Mr. Baldwin. Soon after I wrote to Miss Ritchie, I got one from him, in which he told me he would spend one night here on his way so we expect him every day. By that, I found he got safe to Leeds; but before, I feared something had happened to his bags, as he was sick by the way; which kept me from sending the other halves. I suppose I said in yours, ‘ When I hear you have got there, I will send S. W., viz., God willing, the other halves,' which I here enclose; and, if we are spared, make the payments from this time, July and January. We do live in awful times, and many think, notwithstanding the late fall of the Popish religion, that the Beast will have his deadly wound healed, as foretold in the Revelation; and then is the time when grievous things will be, and war made with the saints. The cause for this thought is, Papist schools are increasing amazingly; and in Ireland they

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to a peace it seems very uncertain, and, if we have not a peace, surely a very black cloud hangs over our head. May we now be let into the cleft of the Rock, and hide ourselves under His wing, who is as a shadow in a weary land. There has been remarkable thunder and lightning this way, as well as in other places, and much mischief in many. We have a fine plenty in the ground; but great rains have laid the wheat much, and it yet keeps showery. The corn should be cut next week. things this way keep very dear. It was a great Providence about the five guineas. Tuesday morning.-Mr. Baldwin has just called for half-an-hour. It appears to me, as I always thought, Kilham's affair will

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