some outward signs of Christianity, these are but equivocal marks, which rather prove that we cannot avoid feeling the obligation to be holy, than that we actually are so. And however we are to compare our actions with the characteristics of genuine sanctity, there is but too much reason to fear that we should have to be among the first to pronounce the sentence of condemnation against ourselves.

Whence comes this extreme opposition between our knowledge and our practice? Whence comes it that we acknowledge the justice of the instructions that are given to us on this subject, and that we profit by them so little? We need not ask long. The causes of this strange irregularity are only too easily discovered; and the difficulty consists rather in numbering them all, than in searching out several. Two causes, however, among others, we may point out as quenching our ardour, and checking our progress in the practice of sanctification. False shame holds us back; and the fear of drawing on ourselves the contempt or the insults of those with whom we may live, hinders us from professing a regular sanctity. And then, we accustom ourselves to represent religion under sad and gloomy images. We fancy it to be austere, uneasy, unfriendly to pleasure and repose; and, fondly attached as we are to enjoyment and tranquillity, we shrink back from a yoke that we regard as so heavy and grievous. Feeble pretexts all these! But they are pretexts, nevertheless, which prevail over the heart, and place the greatest obstacles in our way to genuine piety. We fear the judgments of men, we are afraid of forfeiting their esteem, if they see us too attentive to religion and its duties! Ah, who are they whose sentiments we so much respect? Are they the people who fear God? Nay; the pious would never be grieved to see that worldly female retrenching her ornaments and luxuries, that miser opening his coffers to distribute every day a portion of his goods to the indigent. The pious will never be offended because in our commerce with men we are kind, just, and equitable; that even in our least serious conversations we endeavour to mingle wisdom with enjoyment; and that never, in language, business, or relaxation, we allow any one to doubt that we are true Christians. But we see plainly enough what it is that moves you. They with whom you converse, and whom you fear so much to displease, are persons who, though they may have all the qualities which make them respectable members of society, make no pretences to anything like an over-exact piety. These are they whose raillery and censure we dread, because their company is agreeable to us, and we should feel, as we say, quite lost and uncomfortable without them. Nevertheless, let us not deceive ourselves, my brethren: in whatever manner we conduct ourselves, we cannot altogether avoid the censure and ridicule of men, not even of those who profess the most friendship for us. Act as it may seem good to you; be attentive and liberal; omit none of the usages established among those whom you seek to please. Do as they do. Receive every one with an open countenance and with smiles. And again, sustain your own dignity, refuse too much familiarity, let no one take any liberty' with you without teaching him that you are a man of

honour! Apparently, many will praise you; but even they who do this most when in your presence, when away from you will be your first critics. Every one of your actions will be represented in its worst light. Your liberality will be said to be misapplied. They will say that you are difficult and punctilious. They will refer all your attempts to make yourself agreeable, to the depth of your vain self-love. You will think they are satisfied with you; but, no, nothing of the kind. If, then, it is impossible, whatever you do, to please all, will it not be better to displease some by the Christian purity of your morals, than in any other way? Joined to this, is the fact, that in consecrating yourselves to the service of God, you infallibly conciliate the esteem of all genuine Christians, and of all those who desire to become such. Add also this, that a truly religious man wins, sooner or later, the respect even of those whose interest it is most of all to cry down a devoted piety. And, after all, what will the applause of man avail us, if we are destitute of the favour of God? When we feel that conscience does not reproach us, we may boldly disregard all that the world may think or say of us: but, were we cherished and respected by the whole universe, could we be happy if we were displeasing to God?

"Yes," says the heart in secret;—for it is the language, the feeling of the heart, that we here combat ;-"but I must abandon my pleasures, if I bind myself so strictly to painful duty, to these rigid observances, which place my desires under restraint, which oppose my inclinations, which never allow me one moment of liberty to do as I will." My brethren, we are most unhappily mistaken in this. No; it is not our assiduity in fulfilling the precepts of the Christian morality that will deprive us of tranquillity and repose. So far is sanctity-I mean true sanctity, regular and constant; so far is sanctity—from being incompatible with quietness of spirit, with satisfaction of heart, that the very contrary is the case. It is this which procures the purest, the most exquisite, joy. I acknowledge that there is a species of satisfaction in listening to the passions when they exact from us what an only partially enlightened conscience does not exactly disapprove. It is agreeable to us to give our feelings full scope when we are with others, to copy the examples before us, to enter into the plans and parties of the society we choose, to find ourselves in company where mirth reigns, and the world displays all her charms. But these pleasures, much as they may gratify us for the moment, whatever they may be, leave a certain void in our heart which they cannot fill up. They do not remain always; and when they pass away, a certain restlessness and lassitude seize on us; we feel that we want a something; we can hardly tell what it is, but we are not satisfied. The man, on the contrary, whose one object is to please God, never does what is right but he immediately receives the recompence. His soul is fully satisfied. He feels that God loves him, and that he loves God. This persuasion spreads over the whole course of his life a sweetness which nothing can equal. He is tranquil in view of the past, because God has sealed in his heart the forgiveness of his sins. He is tranquil as

to the present, because this is his rejoicing, even the testimony of his conscience, that by the grace of God he has his conversation in simplicity and sincerity. He is tranquil in reference to the future, because his confidence is in the goodness of God, whom he daily experiences to be kind and propitious. Besides, we are not always in a condition for enjoying worldly pleasures. Sometimes we flatter ourselves that we have a favourable opportunity, and perhaps a single word spoken contemptuously poisons all our joy; or something else occurs which produces a complete disappointment. Unforeseen accidents, misunderstandings, sickness, the death of a relation, may prevent our anticipated diversions, and even plunge us in affliction. And it may be, that God, to punish our earthliness, perhaps to cure it, deprives us of that in which we took delight. We lose our property, our credit, our situations. Those whom we thought to be our best friends abandon us, or we lose our reputation, or our fortune, and we are filled with chagrin, and vexation gnaws and devours our heart. And then conscience adds to our trouble: we believe that God is angry with us, because we know that it is just that he should be 80. We scarcely dare look to him. We are either torn with despair, or delivered to the bitterness of a profound repentance. In such circumstances, common to all, and in their outward aspect common to both the righteous and the wicked, the pious man has always a sure resource: the piety, whose rules he endeavours constantly to follow, now comes to his succour, remedying his ills, or sustaining him under them. As he was more attached to God than to himself, or to the world, his very calamities now strengthen the attachment. He submits humbly to the divine appointments. He is not exposed to the keen regret felt by those who lose what is dearest to them, because, destitute and wretched as he may appear to be, he preserves the favour of his heavenly Father, and, possessing that, he passes peacefully through all. And at the approach of that fatal period, the very thought of which so alarms the worldling, he tastes beforehand something of the ineffable felicity which he is going to possess in its fulness. His soul, full of God, and springing up heavenward, anticipates, with holy raptures, the moment that shall introduce him to eternal glory. Death, so far from terrifying, consoles him; and when his life finishes, then commences an unlimited and eternal happiness, the foretastes of which he had experienced below.

After this, my brethren, will you venture to compare with each other the advantages which piety secures for the children of God, and the pretended delights which the world offers you? Must we bring forward other reasons to disabuse your mind of the false ideas which you have so unhappily conceived of holiness and religion? Must we add other motives to those which we have just now proposed to excite in you the desire to be holy in all manner of conversation? Shall we not succeed in moving your hearts by representing the admirable benefits which God offers you, in calling you to his favour and fellowship? This God, so great and so holy, whose glory fills heaven and earth, and before whom the seraphim veil their faces ;

If

this God has regarded you with compassion. You sought not him, but he has sought and found you. You were destitute of all means of appeasing his righteous anger, and he has sent you a Redeemer. All that you could expect from him he has done, and infinitely more. you yourselves only so will, there is nothing to hinder your participation in all the provided blessings of grace and glory. One only condition is required from you, one from which God cannot depart, and which, in its fulfilment, heightens the excellence of your nature: it is that of holiness. It therefore deeply concerns you to serve Ilim who is so worthy of adoring admiration. It concerns you to give him the heart which he demands from you, and of which he is so jealous. It concerns you to form yourselves on this model, and to aspire to resemble him. Yes God only commands you to be holy, that you may resemble him, and, in resembling him, be happy. Will you refuse to concur with him in the work of your own salvation? From so glorious a design, will you allow any obstacle to turn you? God mercifully calls you to be his people will you disdain to have him for your God? Ah, my brethren! if there be in us any noble and generous emotions, awaken them, consult them. Meditate with deep seriousness on this ravishing, on this fearful, alternative. After this life, so short and fleeting, I shall be eternally with God, or eternally cast out from his presence. And seeing that this God who calls, and even beseeches, us to receive his most precious favours, is essentially a holy God; let us feel and acknowledge the obligation that rests upon us to be, for that very reason, holy in all manner of conversation. God grant that this may be accomplished in us by his grace; and to Him be glory eternally! Amen.

MISCELLANEOUS COMMUNICATIONS.

A PLAIN AND AFFECTIONATE ADDRESS ON BEHALF OF THE CLAIMS OF SUPERANNUATED MINISTERS AND MINISTERS' WIDOWS, ON THE CONNEXION AT LARGE. BY THE LATE THOMAS BUSH, ESQ.,

FORMERLY OF LAMBOURNE, BERKS.

(To the Editor of the Wesleyan-Methodist Magazine.)

Ir is well known, that a Wesleyan Minister in our Connexion is entirely separated to the work of Christ. His only vocation, therefore, is to call sinners to repentance, and to build up the church in her most holy faith. For this great end he is not permitted, on any consideration, to entangle himself with worldly business. By the same regulations and laws of the Connexion, such a provision is made for him by the flock of which he is in charge, as is considered necessary for the creditable support of himself and family; and it may truly be said, nothing more than this. It contemplates, in the exercise of a wise economy, only a present support. It does not include

VOL. IV.-FOURTH SERIES.

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anything for the apprenticing of his children, no, nor, after a certain age, anything towards their support. When disabled from active labour, or when fairly worn out in righteous and honourable service, or, if he be cut off by the hand of death, his widow has been left without any settled support. In fact, it is not until very lately that any attempt has been connexionally made to provide regularly in any of the above distressing cases. Surely this was a position which must have pressed heavily, even on the minds of righteous men; and showed, that in that section of the Christian church to which allusion is made, scriptural principles and precepts had not been fully and properly carried out.

It was not till the memorable year in which the Centenary of Wesleyan Methodism was celebrated, that a plan was formed (to use the words of the Address to the society on this subject) for removing this reproach from our church. The writer of this will venture to assert, that of all the important and magnificent objects which the great Centenary of Methodism contemplated to establish and assist, not one, more just in itself, or more righteous in its principle, was entered into than the one to assist "Worn-out Ministers, and Ministers' Widows."

On an actual investigation of the subject, it was discovered that this important object could be met by a comparatively small and insignificant sacrifice; that if an average could be raised, amounting to the sum of sixpence per annum, from every member of our society, a fund would be obtained sufficient, under prudential regulations, to meet the case. The individual effort thus required appeared so trifling, when compared with the high importance of the object, an object so truly scriptural, just, and benevolent, that any pious and right-minded individual would at once have thought, "Why, surely much more than this will be realized when the whole Connexion fully embraces the plan." The painful fact, however, has been, that while some have righteously and honourably, not only come up to, but have exceeded, the rule; many others have been deficient, so as very considerably to sink the average below its minimum.

It should be distinctly borne in mind, that this plan was not formed by our Ministers, or suggested by complaints uttered by suffering parties themselves; but was originated by laymen in different parts of the kingdom; prompted, no doubt, by a sense of justice, as well as of righteousness and benevolence, towards those who, in all probability, had taught themselves, and also many of their fathers, the way of salvation.

It now remains to consider in what way this righteous plan can be best carried into effect. It never could for a moment have entered into the minds of those who introduced the measure, and who fixed the minimum of contribution at sixpence per annum per member, that the rule was to be thus literally carried out; that the poor were universally to give sixpence, and the rich, and those in comparatively easy circumstances, not to give more: for since the New Poor Law Act came into operation, it has pressed very heavily on three most interesting grades of society amongst the poor; namely, old people who do not reside in the Poor-Law Unions, (these have a mere loaf and shilling, to provide for all things,)-widows who are left with families,and labouring men with large families. Now, many of all these grades are members of our societies; and, however pious such may be, and whatever respect and love such may feel towards their Ministers and the cause of God, yet it is but little they can possibly do, owing to the pinching circumstances in which they are placed. The real spirit of the measure is, in this, and in all similar cases, that the rich should give out of their abundance, and in some