done before. The truth, now fully and faithfully proclaimed by him, immediately evidences its heavenly temper-quick and powerful, sharper than any twoedged sword, it pierces into hearts and consciences which hitherto had never been touched. Convictions of sin are the issue, then cries to God for mercy, and quietly, yet certainly (the very depth of the feeling preventing noisy manifestations on the surface), one and another are brought into the kingdom, and a change, visible and blessed, comes over the face of a whole community. The record of this work may be read with profit at once by those who wish to see the slumber of their own districts broken, yet who know not exactly how to proceed, and by those who run any risk of falling into the grievous error of supposing that there can be no true awakenings unless they are accompanied with prostrations or extravagances. In the life of Stewart subsequent to this period, there is not a great deal of such general interest as to require our going further into minute details. We must add, however, that after continuing to labour for some years longer in Moulin, building up in their most holy faith those whom he had been honoured to beget through the gospel, he was translated to the more important charge of the parish of Dingwall. Here his labours were equally abundant, though they were not blessed to the same extent as in the sphere of his first efforts. In this, of course, was manifested the absolute sovereignty of God, who leaves himself perfectly free in the dispensation of his grace. But the want of success was doubtless, in a secondary sense, also owing to a decided difference in the character of his new parishioners. "Irreligion, indifference about spiritual concerns, attachment to the world, the intemperate use of spirituous liquor, prevail to a melancholy extent." This was his account of the new field in which he was called to work; and in these evils he found "hindrances to progress" of a much more serious and formidable character than existed among his more simple and unsophisticated people in the district of Moulin. Still he was not without seals to his ministry; and, in any case, the inhabitants of this locality had set before them in him a spectacle to which they had hitherto been strangers-that of an ambassador for Christ, who lived only for his Master, and who dared to incur any man's displeasure, and to excite any amount of public obloquy, if he could not otherwise perform what he believed to be a commanded duty. By this time, also, he had become known in literary circles as a Gaelic scholar. Even in Moulin he had done something to earn the title, having there translated the Shorter Catechism and something of Dr. Watts' into the vernacular of the Scottish Highlands. He was now invited to assist in the revisal of the Metrical Psalms, and in comparing the translation of the prophetical books with the original Hebrew. This led to the preparation of a Gaelic grammar, and also to a proposal (which, however, he declined) that he should give his attention to the compilation of a dictionary. His emi nence in these and other departments of knowledge being now recognised, the degree of Doctor of Divinity was conferred upon him; and his removal from a distant provincial town to the metropolis would have been regarded by many as a fitting tribute to his character and talents. This change was, in effect, brought about byand-by, though not exactly in the way that might have been expected. Ill health compelled him in 1820 to seek medical aid and a change of scene in the city of Edinburgh. While residing there with his family, one of the ministers of the Canongate died. A distinguished nobleman, to whose lady Mrs. Stewart was nearly related, waited at his own instance on the king in person, and asked a presentation to the living in favour of Dr. Stewart. His request was readily granted; and the | last few months of his life were spent as pastor of a city charge. It was, however, but a few months which he was permitted to spend here. He was inducted to this his third cure in July 1820, and died, at the age of fifty-seven, in March 1821. "As a minister of the gospel," says his biographer, "few in our Church, in latter days at least, have occupied higher ground, whether his qualifications be considered or his success. . . . . If we wish to be successful in the work of Christ, we see, in Dr. Stewart, what is the CHARACTER of those whom the Lord delighteth to honour. And the subject and manner of his preaching at Moulin affords an example of DOCTRINE which the Lord will own and bless." BIBLICAL TREASURY. N. L. W I. THE MOSAIC NARRATIVE OF THE CREATION.* LET the reader observe how the narrative commences by representing the past eternity as being, as it were, interrupted by the creation of a universe, all in disorder and uproar, over which the divine Spirit is seen to be in motion. Observe how it closes with picturing that universe, at first so chaotic, now arranged in perfect order, and pleasing in the eyes of God himself, who, satisfied with his beneficent work, resumes his eternal rest. Next, observe how the work intervening between that first activity and that final repose, is ranged in two grand divisions, one occupying the first three days, the other occupying the last three days of the creative period; and how the works done on each day of the first division are related to those done on the corresponding day of the second. The main subject of the first division is the formation of the inorganic earth, and it begins (verse 3) with the creation of light viewed as a universal blessing. The main subject of the second division is the living beings peopling the earth, and it begins (verse 14) We are indebted for this and the following extract to an ingenious and well-written little work, entitled, "Nuggets from the Oldest Diggings." Edinburgh: T. Constable & Co. On with the organization of the light of the heavens, and its dedication to the service of earth's inhabitants. the second day, the watery girdle of the earth is separated into two parts, by the formation of the atmosphere or intervening air; and on the fifth day, corresponding to the second, the air is peopled with fowls, while the waters left on earth are peopled with fishes. The third day is distinguished by a double act of creation. The dry land appears, and on the same day it is enriched and beautified with its covering of green. The sixth day presents the like distinction of a double creation. The living tenants of the land are brought into being, and just as on the third day the formation of the inorganic earth was completed by its receiving its crown of verdure, so now, as the last act of the sixth day, and of the whole creative work, the highest of the living inhabitants of the land, and the monarch also, not only of them but of the whole earth and all that it contains, arrives in the person of man. The parallelism is striking and complete, and ought not to be overlooked, for (it has been said) it is more than accidental. Contemplating these traits of symmetry and coherence, the mind feels the scenes unfolded in the narrative rising in significance and sublimity. The whole picture acquires an air of unity, harmony, and grandeur, unobserved before. And as the imagination is filled with the majestic vision, the mental ear, sympathizing with the eye, is invaded with strains of congenial harmony. It hears the tempestuous crash of the unformed elements tumultuously hurrying into life, and then the melodious flow of law and order with which the brooding Spirit calmed their turbulence, and marshalled them for their onward course. Next begins to peal forth the harmonious roll of the mighty mass, moving in its twofold procession, each evolving as it progresses a fourfold form of new being. These, each as it appears, join to the thunder-toned sphere-music their varied notes of joyous melody, answering and contending with one another; the many sounds of air, land, and waters, matching and mingling with the song of birds, and the jubilant voices of all other living things; and in their contentions ever swelling and rising with more entrancing cadences into a loftier harmony; and now, to perfect this hymn of gladness, the voice of man is heard taking it up, enriching it with purer tones and artful modulations; and finally having, as the crowning grace, quickened it with the soul of reason, propelling it, articulate and intelligible, to the ear of Deity. Then comes a space of hallowing silence, and then is heard the unimaginable music of the still small voice of the great Creator approving and blessing the beautiful universe lying before him, perfect in all its parts, and with every order of its inhabitants happy, innocent, and pure; whose innumerable ranks, now when their divine Lord, pleased with his work, withdraws to his eternal repose, once more break forth into a rapturous chorus of adoration and praise, the morning stars singing together, and all the sons of God shouting for joy. II. "REPLENISH THE EARTH AND SUBDUE IT." In his day man had not filled the earth, far less had he subdued it, or was exercising dominion over its living inhabitants. The extent of the earth was utterly unknown, and the universal belief was that the regions then unexplored were for the most part inaccessible, or replete with terrors and dangers that would for ever bar the entrance of man. No less limited was man's power over the properties and forces of nature then believed to be. And in relation to inferior life, man, though lauded as the noblest of living creatures, and by nature the lord of all, was yet held to be but a sharer with them of the earth, many parts of which were given over by him to unfriendly creatures. In this state of things, and while such ideas alone prevailed, how came Moses to assert a capacity in man, and to prognosticate a future to him and to earth so conflicting with experience? And not only with the experience of that day, but also with the experience and the ideas of mankind down almost to our own age? No wonder that the full import of the words of Moses has escaped notice, because the facts respecting man and nature to which they refer, have but newly come to light. What the earth is, and what man is-that the one is a compact globe under the dominion of uniform laws, and that the other, by his powers, mental and physical, his capacity of knowledge, invention, construction, and execution, is equal to the task of exploring and understanding the material world, and of mastering and transforming its various substances and forces from their natural employments to the service of his own superior nature-are facts that could not even be thought of till they were brought before our eyes. And it is no exaggeration to say, that not before the present age were the signs of them so visible as to show to what end man was tending. It is not for the writer to attempt even the most general sketch of the progress of science and of art, or to trace the steps by which the human race has been advancing towards the replenishment and subjugation of the earth. About the beginning of the seventeenth century the illustrious Bacon spoke of man, interpreting, and thereby conquering and governing, nature; and the same language has ever since been in common use among men of science and philosophy, who probably little thought they were but repeating the doctrine of the ancient Hebrew, and even using his very words. The illustrious Bacon proclaimed the inspiriting truth, that to such conquests of man over nature there was no conceivable limit, if man only went to work in the proper way. Guided by his weighty counsels, and keeping to that inductive method of which his great sagacity first comprehended the unbounded fruitfulness, those engaged in this mighty adventure have, since his time, been uninterruptedly achieving results at once solid and glorious. The discoveries and inventions made in various directions in which men of science and art have been prosecuting their researches, have always been watched with keen interest by the civilized world. But it seems as if, up to our own day, they had been looked at as it were separately, and in disconnection from each other. Now, however, man's conquests have been carried so far, that society has become aware of the end to which all the separate lines of progress are steadily tending. A height has been gained from which can be seen, although it be yet in the dim distance, the goal that shall be reached. Living, as we do, in the most civilized of those communities that are the pioneers of our race, we of this generation have been privileged to have the first view of the glorious future to which man is marching. Yet the prospect, when seen merely in the light of earthly science, is in its features and outlines somewhat vague and unintelligible; insomuch that its grandeur and magnificence might have raised in our minds no higher emotions than surprise and wonder, like those ascribed by the poet to the Spanish adventurers when, having climbed a peak in Darien, they stood silent and stared upon the Pacific. But the scene acquires another meaning, and awakens other feelings, when the light of the Mosaic Narrative is brought to bear upon it. Instantly we recognise its true character and its lofty significance. The multiplication and diffusion of men in friendly and co-operating societies, the evergrowing transformation under man's hand of the face of earth, the surrender to his authority and enlistment in his service, every day becoming more general and more complete, of the elemental forces of nature, these, with a thousand other such changes in the relations between man and the material world taking place around us, speak in language perfectly clear and unequivocal. The prophecy of Moses is fulfilling ; man is subduing the earth; the earth is placing herself under the feet of man. What the great Hebrew saw afar off, from that mount of God to which he was lifted up three thousand years ago, is present with us and plain to our senses. Restored by the second Adam to the powers lost and the rights forfeited by the first, the human race is taking possession of the dominion given to it by God in Paradise. This is the end to which all science and all art, all the labour and all the thought of men in all ages and in all places, have been, and are still steadily although unconsciously contributing; the predicted end, towards the achievement of which not the least efficient labourers have been some of those very sons of science, who have laughed to scorn both the prophet and his Inspirer. THE CROSS ON THE OCEAN. BY THE REV. HUBBARD WINSLOW, D.D. On the first of November 1840, we embarked in the British Queen, at London, for New York. No sooner were we fairly under way, than some of the passengers commenced gambling. The fascination of the game was contagious, and some were drawn into it for the first time. As is often the case, practised gamblers were on board for the express purpose of robbing the uninitiated. Some of the passengers lost large sums of money. A lady came to me one morning in an agony of trouble, stating that her husband had the previous night lost L.500-all they had! They were married just before leaving England, and were on the way to America, expecting to purchase a farm and settle in the West. Thus all appearances augured a most unpleasant and profitless season on board. Expostulation and rebuke seemed to be in vain; and even the good captain said he could only regret what he had no power fully to prevent. But a mightier than man interposed. A terrific gale came up from the dark chambers of the western horizon, and lashed the ocean into such a rage as to put an effectual end to all sports. The storm increased, and before the hour for retiring, at midnight, our barometer stood at hurricane point. We retired to our several berths, as we were obliged to do, but not to rest. At about halfpast one o'clock, as I was lying in a sort of feverish and bewildering slumber, not quite unconscious of danger, nor of the roar and commotion around me, I was suddenly startled as by the shock of an earthquake. The first impression was that the ship had struck an iceberg and dashed in pieces. Instantly the water was heard rushing as a flood over us, and pouring in torrents into our apartments. In a moment some person rapped loudly on my door and said with great earnestness— "Prepare for the worst; the ship is fast sinking!" My friend beneath sprang from his berth upon the floor, and was at once ankle-deep in water. He called aloud for servants and lights, but none came. Some of the passengers had succeeded in escaping to the upper part of the ship, but most of us were still below when the doors were made fast to prevent the ingress of water; thus, like Jonah in the whale's belly, we were imprisoned in utter darkness and dismay. Like him we could truly say, through that dreadful night, "Thou hast cast me into the deep, in the midst of the seas; and the floods compassed me about all thy waves and thy billows passed over me. When my soul fainted within me, I remembered the Lord, and my prayer came in unto thee, into thine holy temple." One man had fled, leaving his wife in the berth beneath his, and not being able to return to her on account of the doors being fastened, she was left alone through the night. Thrusting her hand down outside her berth she felt the water, and hearing the roar and crash above, she thought the ship was sinking, and that her husband was already drowned. "Oh! that was an awful night!" said she, the next day, with an emphasis that came from the heart. When allowed to go on deck in the morning, we were at no loss to account for the events of the preceding night. The figure-head of the ship was carried away ; the bulwarks were staved in; the masts were strained and broken; the sails were torn into shreds; one of the water-wheels was dashed in pieces; and the whole was a scene of desolation. The tempest had reached its culmen and spent its main strength, but was still raging. For the two succeeding days and nights we were in that desolate condition, moving laboriously against the storm two or three knots an hour, while the workmen were employed in mending the broken wheel and making other necessary repairs. At this time, fearing the failure of coal and of the enfeebled steamer, the captain held a consultation, whether to turn back and lay his course five hundred miles for Ireland, or venture still onward. The latter was finally resolved on. The water had driven us all up from the rooms below, and compelled us to take lodgings somewhat promiscuously, as we could obtain them, in state rooms and other places above; thus bringing us near together, and giving to some unaccustomed to Christian conversation and devotions an opportunity which they were not reluctant to embrace. Those were solemn and memorable days; for God was truly there, not only as moving mightily in the elements around us, but graciously in our hearts. It added to the solemnity of the occasion, that our chief fireman had just died at his post of duty, and we were then called to commit his remains to their ocean grave. When that great sea struck our ship and rolled its tuns of water over us, the fires were partly extinguished, and the firemen were first to suffer. Their faithful foreman perished from suffocation. After two days and nights spent thus, one of our company came to us in the morning with a significant smile and said, "There is a token for good—a CROSS visible in the western horizon!" We were all soon on the open deck with the captain to see the strange sight. As far as we could discern before us in the west, we distinctly saw a veritable and perfect CROSS, relieved against the sky and resting its foot on the ocean. Some superstitiously thought it a divine token for good; more thought the appearance deceptive; but none imagined it was what it eventually proved to be. In two or three hours a nearer approach and a clearer sky proved it to be a part of a wrecked ship,-only the fore-mast, with its yard-arm at right angles with it, being above the water. It thus presented to our view a well-defined and beautiful cross. The next inquiry was whether some wrecked individuals might not be there in distress. This was by most judged impossible, as all but the bare cross was under water. At last the faithful telescope revealed some indications of a signal, and the captain asked, "Who will go?" A boat was instantly lowered, and a dozen of our brave tars, including the first mate, were soon rowing off upon the waves. All felt their peril; for the wind was still high and the sea in great commotion. With more than thrilling interest we watched our little boat as it moved away from us, tossing spasmodically up and down, now for a moment poising on the foaming crest of a wave, and then lost to our view in a deep trough of the ocean. It finally reached its destination, more than two miles from us, and passed round upon the leeward side of the wreck, to avoid being stranded upon it. Our brave adventurers found five men, including the captain of the wrecked ship, fastened to the foot of the mast, with their entire persons, excepting their heads and shoulders, under the water. They had been in that condition fifty-four hours, that is, since that terrible blast which so damaged our ship and wrecked theirs. It was a ship from Canada, laden with lumber and bound for Leith. It had been completely capsized in the gale, having rolled its masts underneath it and made a complete somerset. All on deck at the time of the disaster were swept into the ocean, and most of the others were drowned in their berths; but the captain and four of his sailors had succeeded in getting on the foredeck, and in securing themselves with pieces of rope and canvas to the only remaining mast. Thus, like millions of others in analogous, but more serious peril and distress, they found salvation at the foot of the cross! With much difficulty our men rescued the sufferers, and in a little more than an hour from the time they left us, we saw them again tossing upon the waves and approaching our ship. Many tears of joy welcomed their return. But a perilous task remained-to get the men safely on board our ship; for the sea was in great commotion, and all but one of the sufferers were entirely helpless. The boat was finally secured to ropes, and both sailors and passengers on deck began to raise it; but when it was about half the way up the long distance from the water, a violent swell so rolled our ship as to turn the boat upside down! It was a terrible moment. The first thought was that all in the boat were lost. But the sailors in it clung fast to its sides, at the same time holding firmly their helpless sufferers. One of the sailors I saw clinging to the boat with one hand, and with the other holding his man by the hair of the head. The boat was finally drawn up to the deck-side; and the first man who came from it on beard was one of the wrecked crew, who leaped upon deck with uplifted hands, exclaiming, "There, thank God, my feet are once more on dry plank!" Up to this moment we had all instinctively held the breathless silence of intense anxiety. The other sufferers, entirely helpless and with limbs and faces dreadfully swollen and water-soaked, were brought on deck by the sailors, when all were placed under care of a physician. After careful nursing two or three days, they were able to be shaved and dressed, and to assemble with us in the large saloon for worship. It was the Sabbath, and the storm was over; the sea was calmed; the sun shone again in full radiance; and it was unanimously proposed to observe the day in devout acknowledgments to God. The Liturgy was read with happy appropriateness by an Episcopal clergyman, and by request of the captain and others the writer preached the sermon and offered the concluding prayer. A more solemn and affecting scene I have never witnessed. Scarcely a dry eye was present. What a contrast to the scenes enacted in the same ship only a few days before! All of the hundred passengers and most of the seamen were present, and none of them as mere spectators. QUESTIONS ABOUT A YOUNG MAN'S SAFETY.* "Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe."- ARE you safe? You are so, only if you are held up, and held down, and held in, by the unseen hand. Are you so held, and therefore safe? Nor were the impressions made then, and during those several days, by the providence and grace of God, superficial and transient. Some good fruit began immediately to appear. Not only were prayers and thanksgivings offered, but a valuable collection was taken up in behalf of the rescued sufferers. Money was also generously contributed for the family of our deceased fireman. Most of the money which the unfortunate man mentioned above had lost in gambling was restored to him, and other similar restitutions were made. One who had been a leader among the gamblers, with whom I had become acquainted and conversed personally upon religion, finding that my purse was nearly exhausted by unexpected demands, generously offered me as much money as I wanted. I consented to take five pounds of him, only as a loan, and upon condition of his calling upon me for it at my house. He did not fulfil his promise at that visit to America, but about three years afterwards he called on me in Boston. He was an English-finity on every side beyond it. He is piling up bales man and a resident in Dublin, and had been there most of the time since I had seen him. I was glad of the opportunity to refund the loan, which he seemed to have nearly forgotten. He had called, he said, because he desired to see me again, and to tell me of the happy change in him since that memorable time on the ocean. He, too, had found salvation at the cross; and he informed me of others of the same company who had become similarly changed in character. May we not hope that his influence is now felt in the precious work of grace in Ireland! The few last days of our voyage were delightful, like the calm and sunshine in the Christian's soul, when the great struggle with sin is over, affording a happy contrast to what had preceded. Our captain said he had crossed the ocean a hundred times, but had never before encountered so severe and protracted a gale, nor had enjoyed on the whole so pleasant a passage. He at last conducted us without a pilot into the harbour of New York, after a voyage of twenty-two days from London. A sad sequel remains. The same excellent captain, with his first mate and the best of his crew, who had served us so faithfully in time of danger, and had, at the peril of their own lives, saved those of the wrecked seamen, were, for their eminent abilities and services, transferred to the President-the largest steamer on the ocean-in which they embarked from New York for England; and neither they nor their ship have been heard of since! At my last interview with Captain Roberts in the Globe Hotel in New York, he was in fine spirits, and kindly invited me to visit him at his home in London; but alas! when next there I found his house left desolate. He had out-rode all the storms of this world, passed the last struggle, and reached his eternal home, where there is "no more sea.” Tell me, first, What are your aims in life? What do you live for? If you could get all you desire, by simply desiring it, what would you have, and what would you be? Would there be anything more needed at any future time, though you had all you now wish for? Is there a limit to your desires; and if so, what is that limit? Does death bound your view, and the grave fill up the entire back-ground of your picture of the future, all round its horizon? If so, then you are not safe; for then, and thus, God is not holding you up. God never did, and never will, hold up any man, young or old, who walks in that path. The devil is holding you down. He is hiding the great white throne from your view, and the great eternity which widens out to in of merchandise, pleasant villas, rural comforts, and elegancies, between you and the great future, and is thereby concealing God from your sight, and God's heaven, and God's glory, and God's Christ, who is the sum of all good, and the substance of all happiness. You are not safe, you are fallen and struggling in the miry clay. Tell me, secondly, Who are your companions? With whom do you associate? Three or four intimate friends who occupy the inner circle of the heart, most young men and old men do have. Who are they, and what are their characters? What is their conversation chiefly concerned about? Are they safe, and do you know that they are? Do they seek to entice you upwards, or to drag you downwards with them? Are they men of mirth and music? Are they good jesters, clever mimics, capital tellers of good stories, full of fun, rich in humour, moral, decent, respectable, lacking only one thing, but that one thing a young man's crown of glory-the grace of God? Are men such as these your closer companions? are men such as these the occupiers of the inner circle of your heart? Then I can tell you that you are not saved, not safe, not upheld by the unseen hand. Whom God upholds he uplifts. Whom God upholds he guides in the way; and he guides them safely past all these subtle devil snares of respectable, though godless friendships. You are on the broadest part of the broad way. Tell me, thirdly, What are your haunts? where, and with whom do you spend your evenings? Where are you best satisfied to find yourself when your business engagements are over, and you have a few hours of time left absolutely at your own disposal? * From an impressive and useful little book under this title, recently issued by the Rev. Thomas Alexander of Chelsea. |