voked and adored,-would this appear to him the Christian worship in which he lived-the Christian faith for which he died? Would it not rather seem the old bloodstained idol-worship of the Pagan temples, robed and masking in Christian forms—the abomination of desolation set up in the Church of God. The Church of the Catacombs, with its spiritual creed and simple ritual, could have no fellowship with the gorgeous symbolism and gross Mariolatry of the Church of the Popes. Before the splendid altar of St. Peter's she would say, "They have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him!" But she claims kindred with all who worship God in the spirit, and love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity. From the glorious crypts of the Campagna, across centuries of darkness and error, she stretches out the hand, and gives sisterly greeting to the Churches of the Reformation. THE INSPIRATION OF THE GOSPELS. H. [In his work on the conjunction of the Presence and the History of Christ in the Gospel Narrative, Mr. Martin strikingly applies the principle which he illustrates to the question of Inspiration.] I CAN endure that there should be spots in the sun. I can even imagine that a record of the Saviour's life-a biography of Jesus-intended to be dealt with on no grander scheme, and to serve no use, nobler in kind, than any other religious memoir, might not necessarily have any claim to be counted absolutely faultless. I can conceive that a delineation of the character of Jesus, were it simply to hold a place in literature similar to that held by other pictures or portraitures of the good and great-similar in kind, however much more lofty in elevation or more important in degree—might in that case not be divinely perfect and infallible. But if this very specific-this singular, matchless, and unique-use is to be made of it, namely, that the Saviour in all ages means to fill it with himself-looking forth from it, from generation to generation, upon the sons of men, in his very countenance and person, so that he commits himself to us for ever as being exactly what the word declares him to be-then I demand its absolute infallibility, in order that my Lord be in nothing misrepresented to me. I demand that it be a mirror on which no staining breath of human imperfection has been permitted to pass; that it be a picture without spot, or blemish, or any such thing. For now the question of its perfection implicates my Lord's perfection. His spotlessness is perilled on its infallibility. Yes! sun. You can tolerate the thought of spots on the You can endure the idea of imperfection, if there be such, in "the light" that "God commanded to shine out of darkness." But can you tolerate the thought of | spot, or blemish, or imperfection, or any such thing, in "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ?" (2 Cor. iv. 6.) You cannot. And you know that his glory is the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth; the brightness of the Father's glory, and the express image of his person. But what is all this glory and perfection to you, all lodged, unspotted and unblemished, in the person of the Word made flesh, if the revelation of that Eternal Word in the written word be less than as unblemished and infallible ?—if the written word be less the express image of the Son than he is the express image of the Father? In vain, to you, is the infallible glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, if the face of Jesus Christ be, in the living picture of the record, misrepresented to you; if "the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God" (2 Cor. iv. 4), fail to bring out that image of God with perfection quite infallible and divine. I believe that when Jesus said to Philip, "He that hath seen me hath seen the Father," it was the express image of the Father that Philip saw. And I believe that this blessed revelation was not designed for Philip only, and those to whom Jesus then addressed himself, -not "for these alone;" but that, like the prayer of intercession that followed, it is the heritage, "not of these alone, but of them also which shall believe on me through their WORD (John xvii. 20). But if Jesus looketh forth upon me now from "their word" by his Spirit, the Spirit lighting up that very word as it has been written, and Jesus thereby looking forth exactly, to the very life as that written word, if I may so say, permits him; then, my Beloved-fairer than the sons of men, chiefest among ten thousand-is to me altogether lovely, and the express image of the Father, only if this word be exactly what the Spirit of Christ would havewritten as holy men of God were moved by the Spirit— an inspired record and perfect. Doubtless, an imperfect picture or biography of Christ might not be altogether useless. We are far from saying that it would. Far, indeed, are we from imagining that the unfriends of Plenary Inspiration-unhappily believing in imperfections in the evangelists-find the four Gospels of little service to their souls; though the glorious, unique use of them which we have attempted to vindicate must of necessity be hidden from their view. Earnestly we would that on this most momentous theme they were not only almost, but altogether such as we are, excepting those bonds of our remaining darkness and depravity, which keep us back from more fully entering into the marvellous arrangement which God hath made for enabling us to tabernacle always when we will with the King in these galleries of his presence. Yet we are far from thinking that no benefit can be derived from perusal of the Gospels where the present view of their specific use is not admitted. We can easily conceive of the Lord blessing them to humble souls who may unfortunately believe them to be imperfect. But far more than that; we can conceive the Lord not disdaining to acknowledge or use them-on this we would of course, speak with great caution-even though they had not been infallible or perfect records. But whatever use, in dealing with his people, Jesus might make of an imperfect biography of himself-calling our attention to it, commending it to our perusal, as, in so far, an approximate likeness of himself; greatly better than entire silence concerning him, entire destitution of all testimony or tradition as to the sayings and doings of his wondrous life upon the earth; one thing at least is clear. In coming to make any use of it whatever, with whatsoever explanations, cautions, or admissions, he would-we must so express it-stand without and apart from the picture itself. That he should enter into it; identify himself with it; invest himself with it; make it vital with his living power, and vocal with his own personal voice; make it from age to age the dwelling-place of his presence; the definition, the circumspection, the expression of his gracious presence; committing himself-thoroughly, contentedly, cordially committing himself-to all generations to be judged of as he appears there; this I cannot believe, unless the biography answers his own great idea of what his own biography should be. It must be perfect; even in all the perfection that Christ himself can give to it; yea, in all the perfection he can claim for himself. It must be an image, as perfect in its kind, in written words, of Jesus-as Jesus is the perfect image, in human flesh, of the Eternal Father. The coalescence of the Presence and the Biography demands it. difficult to introduce evangelical worship into such towns. There is a strange mingling in this town, as in so many other of the towns of Italy, of pagan and popish memorials. The most remarkable of the former is a triumphal arch in honour of Augustus, erected eight years before the birth of Christ. There it stands bespanning the ancient road that led upwards to the Alps, with the symmetry of the arch unbroken, and covered with sculptures representative of ancient heathen rites and sacrifices. Seen from a particular angle on the road, it forms a noble framework to the Alpine scenery which rises to the clouds in such majesty behind it. There is something very impressive in thus gazing on an object that has stood storms of nearly two thousand years, and which, with a little care, may outlive perhaps a third millennium. With its many sculptures and suggestions, it seemed to us like a volume written in stone. We could imagine the hardy and disciplined Roman legions passing under it in one age into Gaul, while around it there smoked the pagan altars, and were performed the heathen rites, whose record it so faithfully preserved. Then we could imagine, in other ages, Christian fugitives from the persecutions of the heathen emperors at Rome passing under it, to seek an asylum in some inaccessible parts of the neighbouring Alps, and holy Irenæus, in all likelihood, journeying this way to his great and arduous work at Lyons. Then heathen rites began to wane; for Christian fugitives had lingered in Susa, at times, on their flight, and Irenæus had preached here, as he passed northward from his hallowed interviews with Polycarp. Christianity became the faith of Nay, it must be an Autobiography. Jesus must him- Susa, and this arch the relic of a dark past. But corself be the author of it,-by his Spirit. A SABBATH AT SUSA. ruption followed, after some ages, as if the old leaven of heathenism had never been fully cast out, and many of the images of the old worship were found suitable, with little change, for the new; and there gradually arose in Susa a sort of baptized paganism. All this did not happen unresisted. There was long a Vaudois colony here, connected with the Vaudois centre across the neighbouring mountains, which kept pure its faith and worship. But the faithful witnesses were driven out. That rapid Dora, near at hand, has been reddened with the blood of Vaudois martyrs; that bridge which spans it has been the scene of glorious struggles, on the part of the friends of Christ, for liberty and life; those mountains have been strewed, ere now, with the corpses of Vaudois confessors, fleeing, in winter, from their perse Ir is now a little more than two years since we arrived, one Saturday evening, at Susa, an ancient town, which stands on the Italian side of the Alps, at the foot of the pass of Mount Cenis. Our wish had been to pass onward, that same evening, to Turin, and to worship on the Sabbath in the noble temple for evangelical worship which had recently been erected there. But the last train had left an hour before our arrival, and posting had ceased with the introduction of the railway. We were therefore constrained, with some reluctance, to remain in Susa; but we became reconciled to our disap-cutors; and so, because Susa would have it so, the candle pointment, when we reflected that it would at least give us an opportunity of looking upon Popery in an Italian town, undiluted and unchecked by the presence of Protestantism. For while Susa is within the boundaries of Piedmont, there are no Vaudois people there, and Protestant worship is only allowed in a Vaudois temple, and where the congregation began with Vaudois worshippers. Moreover, Susa is the seat of a Romish bishop; his palace is here; and it has always been found more stick has for ages been removed out of its place. In all likelihood our little party were the only Protestant worshippers in Susa on that Sabbath-day. We went to the cathedral, and looked for the first time upon papal worship in Italy. It was high mass, the spot around the altar was crowded with priests, and every other place with worshippers. We had never been so struck with the pagan hue of papal ceremonies. Those images of the Virgin, called by another name, might have served for goddesses, and many of the instruments and forms in use might have been inherited from the old heathen priesthood. Our place was near one of the doors, and therefore at the extremity of the crowd. We were struck with the way in which many entered and departed in the middle of the service, and still more with the very little of mind and heart that was thrown into a corrupted worship. While the officiating priest was proceeding with his part of the exercise, the people upon their knees on the earth around us were whispering to each other, or calling attention, by nods and signs, to some new person that had entered. Then all of a sudden, when a little bell was rung, attention was turned to the altar, certain prescribed words were repeated, and this being done, the people returned again to whispering and signaling, until the bell was rung again. WHEN THOU WILT. I KNOW my end must surely come, Lord Jesus, let me daily die, And at the last thy presence give; Then death his utmost power may try, He can but make me truly live; CHRIST IN US. FEW Christians have attained to that intimate and complete union with Christ of which he spoke in the last interview with his disciples before his crucifixion,— "Abide in me, and I in you." It is not merely trust We noticed that the place was surrounded with symbolical representations, and that some of these embodied in a very marked manner certain of the grossest errors of the Roman apostasy. In one place our attention was attracted by a balance, with a pair of scales, in one of which was a little image of a man, in the other a heaping in Christ, or walking with Christ; it is living in of good works and alms-deeds; and these were represented as greatly outweighing the man in the other scale, lifting him up, and raising him above the flames of purgatory that were raging beneath. From the fact that this symbol stood in immediate proximity to a sidealtar, in which priests were engaged in praying souls out of purgatory, and that many of the relatives of the deceased were engaged along with them, we concluded that it was their alms-deeds that were expected to turn the scale which was to raise their friends out of the purgatorial flames. We returned to our hotel, passing under that Augustan arch which we have described, and marking, as we passed, how the nimble lizards had begun to find their way between the stones of its noble masonry. We returned to pray for Susa and for Italy. In our own little apartment we formed a Church with closed doors, such as we can imagine to have been formed in this same place in primitive days. It is a strange feeling for a free Briton to be thus obliged to conceal his worship; but a more open worship would in all likelihood have brought upon us disturbance, detention, and imprisonment. But while our simple Protestant worship was thus restrained, there was no restraint upon the Sunday holiday, which had now begun, or upon the noisy band that were pitching quoits and stones out of doors. A silent Sabbath makes one relish with new zest and thankfulness opportunity and liberty of social worship. And it was with peculiar delight that, next Lord's day, we ascended the steps of the beautiful Protestant temple at Turin, and saw appropriately inscribed on its gates the words, "God is a spirit, and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth." Soon may there be such words and such worship throughout all Italy. A. T. him, and having his presence ever in the soul. As two friends, though separated, live in each other's thoughts and affections, and possess one spirit, seek each other's happiness, rejoice in each other, and often without consultation come as it were instinctively to the same opinion, and adopt the same course of life, so Christ and the true believer are one. Paul, in one of those sententious sayings which contain an epitome of the gospel, declares that the grand revelation of the New Testament is," Christ in you the hope of glory." Oh, the preciousness of such a union with Christ! of such a real presence of the Saviour in the soul! And yet, it is to be feared that many of his followers know but little of it. Some have merely a historic Christ. Others have a dogmatic Christ: the Christ of the catechism and the schools. What we need in order to know the full power of Christ-the power of his life, the power of his doctrine, the power of his death, the power of his resurrection-is, to have Christ in us as the object of thought, of trust, of affection, of desire, of hope, of joy to be in sympathy with his feelings and his work-to be swayed by his spirit. I know not how better to illustrate this general idea, than by the following incident. A German woman, a Romanist, residing in New York, on leaving her native land had received from her priest a charm, which was to preserve her amid the perils of the voyage, and to protect her in a land of strangers. Such a charm is generally procured by German Catholic emigrants before coming to America. Sometimes it consists of a small crucifix; sometimes of a mere picture of the Saviour on the cross, enveloped in a leather case; sometimes of an image of the Virgin. In this case it was a crucifix of porcelain. Its possessor having reached New York in safety, and thus proved the virtue of her crucifix, kept it suspended upon the wall of her chamber, as an aid to devotion, if not itself an object of grateful adoration. But one day as she was adjusting the furniture of the room, a sudden jar brought down the crucifix to the floor, and broke it into fragments. Alas! what could she do now? For a time she gave herself up to weeping and self-reproach. But in her grief she sought counsel of a neighbour in an adjoining apartment. "What shall I do?" she cried, " for my dear Christ is broken to pieces?" It happened that this neighbour was one of a congregation of German Seceders from the Roman Catholic Church, one who had embraced the doctrines of evangelical religion, and who had experienced the grace of Christ in her own soul. She said to her distressed friend, "Do not grieve, and I will tell you how you may make up your loss. I keep the Saviour always in my heart." She then explained to her the Scriptures, and invited her to go and hear the preacher of the new congregation on the next Sabbath. The invitation was accepted; the eyes of the poor disconsolate woman were opened, and she, too, found a Christ whom she can keep always in her heart, and of whom no casualty nor violence can ever deprive her. Our faith in the historic evidences of Christianity may be shaken, at times, by those doubts and fears to which all Christians are exposed; our creeds may be assailed or undermined; our ecclesiastical systems may be exploded into fragments; but nothing shall ever deprive us of Christ, if he be in us the hope of glory.”—J. P. Thompson, D.D. THE LAW OF LOVE. READER, whosoe'er thou art, Hide it not within the ground, Send the cup of blessing round. Called a blessing to inherit, Bless, and richer blessings merit; Give, and more shall yet be given, -Josiah Conder. MISAPPLIED TEXTS. "Christ is all, and in all."--COL. iii. 11. If we were to say that "Christ is all in all" to the believer, we should express a precious Bible truth in good, idiomatic English. But if we were to say that Christ is all and in all," to the believer, we should alike pervert the apostle's meaning and the people's English. The writer remembers once hearing just this last proposition stated as the theme of a sermon on the above text. But the careful professor, under whose direction the theme was prepared, justly took exception to it, as as an error in interpretation, and a blunder in expression. That little conjunction "and," effectually bars this common use of the expression as equivalent to our forcible phrase, "all in all." And the examination of the context makes it plain that there is a two-fold predicate here. "Christ is all, and Christ is in all." No matter whether we be Gentiles or Jews, barbarians or civilized, Scythians or Greeks, slaves or freemen, if we have put on the new man, we are henceforth nothing, for Christ is all; we are henceforth equal, for Christ is alike in all. The only place in the New Testament where the intensive and idiomatic sense, which is often attributed to the passage under consideration, is at all admissible, is 1 Cor. xv. 28, "That God may be all in all." But even in that case, the other and more literal interpretation is decidedly preferable, for this reason, among others, that it accords with the unquestionable meaning of the phrase in all the other three places where it occurs. These places are, 1 Cor. xii. 6, Eph. i. 23, and the passage at the head of this article. THE PILGRIMS. THE way is long and dreary, The path is bleak and bare, Our feet are worn and weary, But we will not despair. More heavy was Thy burden, More desolate Thy wayO Lamb of God! who takest The sin of the world away,Have mercy on us! The snows lie thick around us In the dark and gloomy night, And the tempest wails above us, And the stars have hid their light; But blacker was the darkness Round Calvary's cross that day-O Lamb of God! who takest The sin of the world awayHave mercy on us! Our hearts are faint with sorrow, And thou wilt bid it cease- -Adelaide Anne Procter. THE RETURN TO NAZARETH. PROBABLY the first thought of Joseph, on hearing that Herod was dead, and the way clear for his return, was to fix his dwelling at Bethlehem. Either the native town of his great ancestor, the City of David, or Jerusalem itself, the royal seat of his dynasty, would seem most suitable to be the dwelling-place of the Holy Child, the natural and solemn sanctuary where he might grow up to man's estate. The death of Herod had occurred but a short time before the greatest of the Jewish festivals, and as the way-worn exiles, coming up from the wilderness, saw the Paschal moon shining full and clear on the grey olive slopes of Hebron, they would rejoice at the thought of once more mingling with the multitude that thronged the Temple gates to keep the holy feast. Tidings awaited them which clouded all such hopes, and changed their plans on the instant. That passover had an abrupt and tragic ending. The leaders of the national party, long kept down by the iron hand of Herod, had taken advantage of the accession of Archelaus to state their grievances, which that prince, the heir of his father's vices, without his talents, had obstinately refused to redress. It was a crisis to which there was an ominous parallel in Hebrew story; and there were many Jeroboams to retort the ill-judged refusal with hatred and defiance, and raise the cry, "To your tents, O Israel!" The old religious zeal, that had been long sullenly smouldering, kindled up into fierce flame,— tumult and sedition were rife in the capital,-the courts of the Temple were filled with armed patriots, leagued for the defence of their liberties and faith. A vigorous effort was necessary to crush rebellion in the germ, and power was on the side of the oppressor. At the hour when the daily sacrifice was being offered, the streets of the city and the approaches to the Temple were occupied by the royal troops, the worshippers attacked by overwhelming numbers, and three thousand slain. Amid scenes of frightful riot and carnage the solemn rites were suspended. The songs of the sanctuary were changed into funeral wailings; and a shuddering horror went through the land at the tidings of this unexampled desecration. Somewhere on their homeward route the Holy Family would hear the dismal story, it might chance from the lips of some fugitive, who had been an eye-witness of the massacre; and we can understand how Joseph, when he heard that Archelaus reigned in Judæa in the room of his father Herod, and read his character in the light of events like these, was "afraid to turn in thither." No spot within its borders, under such a rule, was a safe asylum for the little household; their glimpse of peaceful Bethlehem was shut out by the gathering storm. Once more, in the time of perplexity, light came from heaven to guide their uncertain steps; and after another season of anxious and weary travel, the wanderers found a quiet retreat in the old home among the hills of Galilee. By the last testament of Herod, which was confirmed by the Roman Emperor, his dominions had been partitioned among his three surviving sons. Archelaus, the son of Malthace, a Samaritan, was made Ethnarch, or Governor of Judæa, Idumea, and Samaria ;* Antipas (the "Herod" of the Gospels), Tetrarch of Galilee; and Philip, Tetrarch of the trans-Jordanic provinces. Very strange and mingled must have been the emotions with which Mary and Joseph, in the later stages of their journey, must have watched the old familiar landmarks come into view,-the dome-like summit of Tabor casting its shadow over the fair and fruitful levels they were crossing-the white snows shining on the crest of Hermon-and far away on the other side, the dark mass of Carmel, standing lonely like a watch-tower by the waters,-with many a town, famous in story, perched among the heights which swept in graceful curves round the plain. Then the path wound slowly up among wooded acclivities and the rocky spurs of the ridges, and they passed within the foldings of the hills, till at a turn of the road they can see some white-walled 'houses glimmering through the misty green of fig and almondtrees on a gentle slope; and this is Nazareth, lying there in its mountain recess, fenced in its beautiful seclusion from the outer world within a ring of fifteen hills. As they went up the village street, and heard words of hearty welcome from friends and neighbours, to whom no tidings of them for many weeks had come, how must they have felt all the more the weight and mystery of that strange experience through which they had passed, while the homely life of the hamlet had been flowing on so tranquilly in its old channels from day to day. Few there who would not gaze with tender interest on that innocent infant face, seen for the first time in Nazareth, and many a kind wish and greeting on his account must have fallen on the mother's ear. But these words could only touch the surface. No earthly sympathy could reach the springs of deep and sacred feeling that had been opened in Mary's heart. Cold and meaningless must all common voices have seemed to her after the adorations of Bethlehem, and the benedictions and thanksgivings of the Temple. Thus the Son of God has been brought to the place which is to be the nursery of his earthly childhood. Under one of these lowly hamlet roofs, amid rough peasants and mountaineers, is his human life to grow up and unfold-the "root out of a dry ground" slowly * Archelaus, after a tyrannical reign of nine years, was deposed by his suzerain, Augustus, to whom his subjects had appealed, and banished to Vienne, in Gaul, where he died. Judæa was then formed into a Roman province, governed by imperial "procurators," of whom the third in succession was Pontius Pilate. |