SACRED POETRY. THE DYING CHRISTIAN'S ANTICIPATIONS OF DEATH AND GLORY. BY RICHARD HUIE, ESQ. M.D. My body wastes, my strength decays, To nature's sinking pow'rs; Come then, my soul! since human skill My thoughts let death and judgment fill, And while my friends, with doubt and fear, Let this dear truth my bosom cheer, That Jesus died for me! Jesus, my Prophet, Priest, and King, MISCELLANEOUS. The Providence of God.-When Queen Mary, upon the death of Edward VI., ascended the throne, Bishop Jewell was expelled from his college because of his opposition to Popery. At length he was taken; and his subscription to the system he abhorred, upon pain of proscription and torture, was demanded.' Jewell's firmness gave way, and with a timidity which long obscured his reputation, he signed a paper expressive of his approbation of some of the articles of Popery. But his recantation was of no use to him whatever. The inlictions of providential judgment were used to bring Lim again to the faith he had denied. Suspected of having only acted a part, and his sincerity being entirely disbelieved, snares were soon laid for him; and he would have been inevitably caught in the toils of those who were vigilantly on the alert for his destruction, had he not, as he thought accidentally, gone in a road on a way to London, different from that on which he was accustomed to travel. On this journey, which he was prosecuting on foot, he was found on a snowy winter's night, alone, lying on the ground, starving, faint, unconscious, and at the very gates of death, by the servant of Dr Latimer; by his attentions his life was preserved, and he was conducted to a place of shelter and repose. But on his arrival in London, though he had sacrificed his conscience to his interest, he found no hope of safety. The emissaries of Bonner were prowling about in search of him, until he escaped from their hands and obtained a passage to the continent. But there also his circumstances were desperate. Hie found no one to befriend him, he had no pecuniary resources, and he wandered about often in want of a lodg ing for the night. At last he arrived in the city of Franckfort, where he met with some English exiles, who received him with considerable kindness. But the recollection of his apostasy continually tormented him; and before the whole congregation he declared, that it was his "abject and cowardly mind, and faint heart, which made his weak hand commit this great wickedWith sighs and with tears, his public confession was mingled; and it was concluded with earnest supplications, first to Almighty God whom he had offended, and then to the Church which he had scandalized. Is conduct was so ingenuous, his expressions were so alfecting, and his whole demeanour displayed so much genuine contrition and sorrow, that the whole congre gation received him not only as a dear brother, but as an angel of God. ness. The benevolent Cruden, Author of the Concordane". -A sailor, whose name was Richard Potter, in 1762, was tried and capitally convicted at the Old Bailey, fr uttering a seaman's will, knowing it to be forgedcrime to which, with some propriety, the royal mercy is rarely extended. The evidence which was brought irward on the trial, proved that Potter was a poor, i norant, credulous person, who had been made the toi of designing cunning, and who was utterly unconscious of the offence which he had committed. Providentiali Mr Cruden was in Court; and being firmly convine that Potter was a proper object for the royal clemerev, he determined to attempt to save him from a punis ment which he believed the condemned person did n deserve. That he might not act without due caution, he had an interview with Potter in the prison, and after a careful examination, he became certain that igorate had been the sole cause of the perpetration of the crine. However improbable it might seem, Mr Cruden's indefatigable diligence, and his constant and importunate applications to government, were attended with su cess, and the sentence of death was transmuted into that of transportation for life. But Mr Cruden's benevolent solicitude did not terminate here. He prayed with the poor criminal, exhorted him, instructed him ir the principles of religion, brought him to a proper sese of the wickedness of his past life, and, in one word, e who had previously scarcely known of the being et ducted to the vital knowledge of the truth, a wret God. The amiable tenderness with which Mr Crudin visited, taught, fed, and clothed his poor pupil, and t'e anxiety he felt and displayed for his temporal and everlasting good, must ever endear his memory, in spite of all his oddities, to the heart of humanity, and the tact must be contemplated as a memorable event in the previdence of God. Published by JOHN JOHNSTONE, at the Offices of the ScorTER” CHRISTIAN HERALD, 104, High Street, Edinburgh, and 12 tra ford Street, Glasgow; JAMES NISBET & Co., HAMILTON, A & Co., and R. GROOMBRIDGE, London; W. CURRY & Co., Dates and W. M'COMB, Belfast; and sold by the Booksellers and Loc Agents in all the Towns and Parishes of Scotland; and in the principal Towns in England and Ireland. Subscribers in Edinburgh and Leith will have their copies livered at their own residences regularly, by leaving their ar with the Publisher, or with John Lindsay & Co., 7. South St. A drew Street.--Subscribers in Glasgow will, in like manner. their copies delivered, by leaving their addresses at the Pub Office there, 19, Glassford Street. Subscription (payable in advance) per quarter, of twelve we Is. 6d.-per half-year, of twenty-four weeks 3-per year, of fire eight weeks, G.-Monthly Parts, containing four Numbers a stitched in a printed wrapper, Price Sixpence. Printed at the Steam-Press of Ballantyne & Co., from the Stren type Plates of Thomas Allan & Co. 1 THE SCOTTISH CHRISTIAN HERALD, CONDUCTED UNDER THE SUPERINTENDENCE OF MINISTERS AND MEMBERS OF THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH, THE FEAR OF THE LORD, THAT IS WISDOM." VOL. I. No. 39. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1836. IS IT A VALID OBJECTION TO THE TRUTH BY THE REV. PETER CURROR, PRICE 1d. eves. All confess them to be from his hand; and if we find mysteries in them, we surely should not be startled when we see mysteries in his word. If both have proceeded from the same hand, both must be expected to wear the same character. If we find difficulties in the one, difficulties must be looked for in the other; if we find mysteries in the one, mysteries must be looked for in the other. those who are perplexed, and convince those who object that they are acting an unreasonable part, we shall not conceal that there are mysteries deep and unsearchable in the volume of revelation; but we shall set before them other objects, not within that volume, which they admit, and which are adTHE word translated mystery in the New Testa- mitted on all sides, to be from the hand of God, ment, we are aware, means a truth which was un- and we shall shew them that they are as thickly known until it was revealed, and would have re-wrapped in mystery as those at which they stummained unknown had it not been revealed. But ble. The works of God are stretched out before our the English word mystery, means also, and more frequently, a truth which we do not fully comprehend. In this sense it is often applied to some of the statements of revelation. It sometimes takes the shape of a difficulty, and sometimes of an objection. Some humble inquirers lie long perplexed, either at the threshold of the temple of divine truth, or at their entrance into some of its apartments, struggling with difficulties which they cannot overcome. There is always some inconsistency which they think they see, and which they must have reconciled, a spell of some mystery on this truth or that truth, which they must have broken. There are others who take a prouder position, who make the standard of their own reason the measure of revelation. Whatever of its disclosures come within its scale they receive; whatever they suppose rises above it, or falls below it, they reject. If any of its descriptions of human nature do not coincide with the views which they take of it, they set them aside as untrue, and as, herefore, no part of revelation; if any of its easonings do not arrive at the same conclusions t which they have arrived, they blot them from ts pages as inconclusive, and as, therefore, unworhy of the pen of inspiration. Such portions they eckon as falling below their standard; there are thers which they reckon as rising above it, and which they as unceremoniously reject. Some of its ruths are wrapped in difficulties which they cannot ear away; some are, to their view, standing in ide and irreconcileable inconsistency; some are hrouded in a mystery, which the utmost efforts of Jeir reason cannot unveil; and they think it unorthy of revelation to let us but half way into any f its secrets, to leave any of its disclosures so far bove the level of our comprehension. Now, to satisfy both these parties, to relieve There is not a field of creation on which we can turn our eye, where our inquiries do not instantly terminate in inscrutable mystery. How soon do we come to processes which we cannot explain, to the operation of causes of which we know nothing? We might go to any district of nature we choose, all alike we should find wrapped in an under mantle of darkness. We shall select a specimen which is familiar to every eye, and which most of us, probably, have been supposing we know all about. Look to a single blade of grass. It is a part of a plant which we see every day; which overspreads the earth with verdure. It springs from a substance the most unlike to itself. It draws its nourishment from the clods of the earth; and from the materials which it thence derives, it forms a substance the most opposite in its aspect and its properties. In the former, there is no beauty to admire, in the latter all is loveliness; in the former, there is nothing nutritious for the living inhabitants of the globe, the latter is their provided food. Yet from the earth, almost every particle of which the herb is composed has been derived. A process has been undergone by which these particles have been differently combined, and a substance produced altogether unlike in its complexion and its character. But over this process a mystery hangs which we cannot penetrate; there are secrets which we cannot unveil. It is a process which no chemistry can imitate or understand. at every footstep, a crowd of living and sentient beings, and that we cannot quench our thirst without inhaling and entombing, with every mouthful of water which we drink, thousands of animals in the full possession of that life and enjoyment which their Creator gave them. We have ample proofs of the goodness of God; but how all this is compatible with his goodness, we may be unable to tell. If we lift our eyes to the firmament over our heads, we see the moon as she walks her course. and draws towards herself the heaving waters of the ocean; but we cannot tell how her attrac tive influence is conveyed. We see the sun travelling our firmament and dispensing light over our path; but we cannot tell how that light is produced, how it travels, how it pencils surrounding objects with so many varying hues, how it enters our eye, or how it paints its representations on a tablet within the view of our minds. We see the firmament sparkling with innumerable stars; but we cannot tell their character, or their dis If it be thought that it is the minuteness of these processes which baffles our researches, look at the objects of creation on a larger scale. As thick a shroud of mystery will be found enveloping its largest as its minutest operations. In the globe of the earth itself, in the material of which it is formed, our inquiries would soon have been stopped by a screen of unsearchable mystery, though nothing else had been done but calling it into existence, and though the energies which now clothe it with beauty and verdure had slumbered for ever. We might have ghzed on its composition and its magnitude; at every step of our examination we should have found mystery. We might have lifted a stone or a clod from its surface, that we might examine more narrowly the materials of which it was formed. And all our philosophy might have gone forth in search of a cause, from which a stone or a world might have sprung. We might have laboured from the varying arrangement of those causes which we knew, to educe another cause, or a combination of causes adequate to the magnifi-tance; we can form no conception of that power cent result. But our most accomplished philosophy might have gone forth in vain; it would have returned with a report only of baffling mystery. But still more unsearchable is the mystery which meets us when we are surrounded, not merely by a creation slumbering in silence and in death, but by a world which is full of life, which, though ages and centuries have rolled over it, is still as fresh and vigorous as ever, which with every returning season is clothed with a new mantle of verdure, which with every returning year covers its ample board with a new provision for the wants of its living inhabitants. Amid the works of God, then, we are hedged round with unsearchable mystery on every side. We see a world in existence, we cannot tell how it acquired it. We see it revolving on its axis, and giving us the pleasing changes of day and night; we cannot tell how its motion is upheld. We see it rolling round its orbit, and carrying us through refreshing varieties of spring and summer, and autumn and winter; we cannot tell how this ceaseless movement is prolonged. We see its plants covering its fields with verdure, its flowers expanding in loveliness, its trees bursting into foliage; we cannot tell how a blade of its grass is made to grow, how its flowers are painted with their variegated tints, how its trees cover themselves with their branches and their leaves. We know that a hand beyond our own deals out to us every breath which we draw, and upholds every step which we take; we cannot tell how it works. We know that our souls are united with our bodies, but we cannot tell how. We know that the resolutions of the one are instantly obeyed by the other, but we cannot tell how the commands of the one are communicated to the other. In the midst of all that is beneficent in creation, we see the various races of animals which people our globe preying upon, and devouring one another; and we know that we ourselves cannot tread on a world on which we are appointed to dwell, without crushing to death, which, while it is minute enough in its care to sustain the fluttering of every insect's wing, and the teeming population of every drop of water, is wide enough in its range to uphold these countless and unmeasured orbs. Since then the works of God are so thich's shrouded in mystery, we need feel no disappointment, should we find the shade of mystery vin. also on his word. If we find God in what we know he has already done, leaving many thing but half understood by us, we are prepared to expect, in any of his farther proceedings, some things also which we cannot fully understand. The mid of every one, within our sphere of knowledge, is marked by a certain character, and we see the fr tures of that character tracing every thing which he does or says. If that character is one of saga city, then we anticipate a longsighted prudence in all his conversation and conduct; if it is one of folly, then should we look for folly in all his irre gular steps. The writings of every author are characterised by a certain style of thought. We speak of it as his style; it may be clear or of scure, it may be cold or glowing, but if we are familiar with it, on looking into a volume, know at once whether or not it is his. Soci any anonymous production appear, we can ofic ascertain from its internal character, whether it is from the pen of such an author. It may be like his other productions, that we are sure it > his; or it may be so unlike them, that we are sare it is not his. And certainly if there was one feature imprinted on each, that, instead of discrebing, would go so far to prove a common parenta to both. If there is one feature, therefore. printed both on the works and on the word a God, that, instead of disproving, goes so far prove that both have proceeded from the sam hand. If we find mystery in the works of God that is at least enough to silence the ol which is raised from the existence of mysteries his Word. This is all the use which we now jav pose to make of it. We might, however, even go farther, and use it as a positive, though a collateral argument. If we find a certain degree of obscurity in the writings of an author, and if in an anonymous production we find the same degree of obscurity, that of itself does not prove, but, along with others, it is a collateral proof that they have come from the same hand. In like manner, the existence of the same mystery in the word and in the works of God, while it does not of itself prove, is, along with others, a collateral and strengthening proof of a common authorship to both. We do not wish, then, to conceal-we have no object in concealing-that there are mysteries in revelation. It is alike more modest, more honest, and more philosophical to confess, that there are, than to spend fruitless ingenuity in trying to explain them away. There is one topic shrouded in mystery, which is common both to the word and the works of God. The origin of evil stretches over both into a night of darkness, which the light of neither can dispel. It plants one poisoned foot on the one, and another on the other; but its head is enveloped in clouds which neither can dissipate. We know that evil exists; revelation tells us of the first breath which it drew, but how it acquired its existence, is a mystery which we cannot unveil. That there are three persons in one Godhead, is an express announcement of revelation; but how they co-exist, is an unfathomable mystery. We know the fact, of the mode we know nothing. The consistency of the predestination of God with the free agency of man, is another truth of the same class. Both we know to be true. Whether we look to nature or to revelation, we may be satisfied that God predestines all things; given fore-knowledge and sovereignty, there results predestination. We know, too, that we act freely: I feel at this moment at freedom either to write or to lay down my pen. Both being true, they must be compatible with one another, but how they are so, is a mystery which the ingenuity of man has often attempted to solve, but in which it has always been foiled. The incarnation of Deity, too, the residence of that which fills immensity in the compass of a human frame, we know to be a statement of revelation; but how they were united together, how the one could be the habitation of the other, are questions which we cannot answer; they are veiled in inscrutable mystery. "God was manifested in the flesh, but it is a great mystery of godliness." We know, too, that the Spirit of God exerts a sanctifying influence on the soul of man; but how, unheard and unseen by us, he exercises this influence, is a mystery which we cannot unravel. We can read the statement that he does so, we can see the result of his doing so, but how he does so, we cannot tell. Ages had rolled over our world before the plan of mercy unfolded in revelation, was fully made known; ages shall roll over it still, before it shall reach every family of our race. Why it was not at once utered in notes which every car might hear, or written in characters in the sky which every eye might read; why it was not earlier and more widely made known, we are unable to tell. There may be, there must be causes, and the best of causes why it was not otherwise. Purposes may be answered which no other method could have answered so well; evils may be avoided which no other method was so well fitted to avoid. But these have not been disclosed. What they are we cannot tell. They are in the number of those mysteries from which the curtain has not been drawn. The state of our souls when dislodged from their present habitations, and the manner in which our bodies are to be reconstructed from their dust, as well as many other topics scattered over the volume of revelation, are mysteries of which we can give no explanation. We know that they are revealed, but how they are brought about we know nothing. We find alike, then, mysteries in the word of God and mysteries in his works; and those who hesitate to embrace this revelation till all its mysteries are cleared away, are demanding of the word of God, what they do not seek and what they do not find in his works. They are applying, moreover, a principle to the one which would be fatal to them if applied to the other. They are acting like one who, though dying of thirst, should refuse to drink of the waters of a lake till he explored all its depths. And were they, on the same principle, to refuse to partake of the fruits of the earth till they had fathomed all the mysteries of their growth and organization, digestion and nutrition, not one would survive the inquiry. Had the Israelite refused to eat of the manna sent down from heaven till he understood how it was produced, he would have perished in the wilderness. And if death to our natural constitution is the unavoidable consequence of such a principle, when applied to our bodily wants, then, under the economy of the same God, death to our spiritual constitution is what we are entitled to expect, when it is applied to our spiritual wants. Mysteries are inseparable from a revelation, coming from a God whose understanding is infinite, and not to comprehend them is inseparable from the finite, the short-sighted understanding of man. Some, however, wrested them to their own destruction in the time of the apostles, and they may be wrested to the same purpose still. And if we stand wrangling on the threshold of this temple of heavenly truth, till we have scaled the height of its pillars, which reach to heaven, then will the grave find us as closely wrapped in mystery as now; eternity will find us still beholding, still wondering, still perishing. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF (Concluded from our last.) AFTER ten years of the utmost harshness and severity exercised towards the nonconformists, Charles, finding that such measures were unavailing to force their compliance with his wishes, issued a suspension of all the penal laws which had been passed against them. Mr Heywood having, in consequence, received his license | to preach publicly, gladly took advantage of the privilege, and dispensed the word and the bread of life to his affectionate people at Coley, who, after so long a separation, gladly welcomed the return of their former pastor. The Church which, at this time, he constituted, was formed on Presbyterian principles. His labours were very abundant, his ministry was numerously attended, and crowned with much success. Mr Heywood's two sons were now about to set out to an academy in Westmoreland, with the view of prosecuting their studies for the sacred ministry. The solemn scene of parting from their father's house is thus pathetically described: My sons being to go abroad for learning next week, I took them with me," he says, "to three private fasts this week; and Thursday, May 15th, 1673, was such a day as we have seldom had. I purposely appointed to seek God this day on their behalf, and he wonderfully helped all his servants to plead for them. About the middle of the day I called them both forth, before the company, and asked them several questions, as to what calling they chose? With tears they both answered, the ministry. I asked them, for what end? and told them they might suffer persecution, and must not dream of honour therein, or of living like gentlemen. They replied, their only end was to glorify God and win souls. I marked John's words; he said, he desired to do God more service than any of his ancestors. I asked them, what they desired Mr Dawson and the rest of God's servants should pray for, on their behalf? Eliezer spoke first, and said, that God would give them grace and gifts, forgive their sins of childhood, and loss of time, make them studious, and keep them from temptation and sinful company. John's answer was much of the same nature. They both wept exceedingly, and so did the whole company. Then I solemnly gave them up to God in his work. Those that went to prayer read also a portion of Scripture. W. B. read 1 Sam. i. on dedicating Samuel to God. Mr Dawson read Gen. xxviii. respecting Isaac sending away his son Jacob. R. R. read Prov. iii. on getting and prizing wisdom. Mr Hodgson Gen. xlviii. from Sth verse to the end. When he came to those words, The angel which redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads,' the tears stopped him and he made a solemn pause; and we all wept. I read and briefly expounded 1 Chron. xxviii. containing David's charge to Solomon about building the temple. God helped us all in prayer. what a flood of tears! What pleadings with God! I can scarcely remember the like. Blessed be God; it is a token for good. I wait to hear what God will speak to all these things; surely he will speak peace. O that I and mine may not return to folly. Ebenezer !" The labours of Mr Heywood were not confined to his own limited congregation, but for twenty miles round he was accustomed to itinerate, preaching with all boldness that word which is alone able to make wise unto salvation. The liberty, however, which he and the other nonconformist brethren thus enjoyed was but of short duration. By the advice of his ministers, the king recalled the licenses which he had granted, and put the former laws against nonconformity in operation. In obedience to these laws, Mr Heywood took leave of his attached people, not knowing that they should ever again enjoy the opportunity of assembling publicly for religious worship. farewell that day, preaching on Rev. ii. 4-5. At the close I gave my reasons, and some advice. The occa sion excited the tenderest feelings, and floods of tears, such as I never witnessed in all my life in public. I promised my best assistance to them all in private. O that God would set the stamp of his grace and Spirit on these warm sensations! Who knows what good may be done by this closing sermon? However, these feelings are a token for good, and a presage of the Lord's gracious return. Excluded once more from publicly declaring the Lord's Word in his sanctuary, Mr Heywood embraced every opportunity of preaching in private. About this time his amiable and sensitive mind was deeply affected by the death of several relatives in rapid succession. He felt these to be loud warnings to repentance for past transgressions, and increased exertions in his Master's labours, he was closely pursued by his relentless enework. Though still abundant, however, in ministerial mies, who eagerly took advantage of every excuse for harassing and annoying him. For some time before the recalling of his license, he was not exposed to the inconveniences which some of his brethren experienced: but at length, on the 15th August 1680, he was summoned before the consistory court at York, with his wife and several of his friends, for not receiving the sacrament at his parish church; and failing to appear, they were excommunicated. This treatment did not prevent Mr Heywood from boldly preaching the Gospel wherever he had the slightest prospect of doing good to the souls of men. In 1684, the persecution against the nonconformists raged more keenly than ever. Many of them were thrown into prison, and the utmost severity was exer. cised towards them. It could not be expected that Mr Heywood should escape in such a season. He was ap prehended, and, without much show of reason, throw into York Castle, where he was detained for twelve months. On his liberation, he felt himself in peculiar difficulties, from the engagement under which he had been brought to keep the peace, by which was meant, that he should not preach. The state of his mind under these painful circumstances, he thus describes :— "I am in the heaviest condition as to my liberty of doing God service and good to souls, that ever I was i all my life. Men have broken in upon us, scattere our meeting, and indicted me for a riot. I am bourdi £ 100 traverse, and to be of good behaviour. My adversaries are watching me narrowly to find me forfeiting my bond. Providence seems to make against me, in that which is the heaviest burden of all is, it is the oocasion of some difference between my wife and myself. for she being naturally timorous, when we are above the number of four she is perplexed exceedingly, thou it be not purposely but providentially. Truly my ze for God's glory and love to souls, on the one side-and endeared love to my wife, fears of being censured i rashness and indiscretion by prudent persons, and mak ing myself a prey to knaves, on the other side-do s rack and torture my spirit, that it almost makes weary of my life. I know not what to do, and am ofte. forced to go contrary to my wife's mind. Sometice God helps me in prayer to roll myself on him, and this I am easy; but, O! how often I am at a loss : 0 soul, this is a very great strait that Providence brought thee into! In the commencement of the following year, Mr H wood was again indicted for having a riotous assen in his house, because he preached the Gospel of peact |