THE LATE REV. JONATHAN GEORGE,

OF WALWORTH,

THUS recorded his views of his former life, when brought under the saving influence of divine truth. "I am now near twenty-two years old, and look back upon my past life with feelings of the deepest sorrow. Oh! it pierces my inmost soul to think that the young morning of my days should have all been spent in the mad pursuit of folly and of worldly and sinful pleasures."

This is not to be regarded as the confession of a profane and profligate course of life, so much as the sentence which every awakened and enlightened conscience pronounces upon a previous state of worldliness and wilful unbelief. The outward means of grace were never wholly neglected by him. He statedly attended the ministry of his honoured father, who was privileged to become the instrument of his second birth. While in the gallery of the chapel in Shouldham-street, London, during the administration of the Lord's Supper, on the first sabbath of the year 1826, he was deeply affected by the thought of separation from the chosen flock, and connected it, in his own mind, with the separation between the sheep and the goats by Christ at the last day. This thought, followed by an address on the dangerous condition of all unbelievers, from the words, “Behold, I come quickly," overwhelmed him with the reflection that, unless he should be adopted into the family of God, he would be for ever undone. Under these solemn impressions he retired from the house of God, not to converse with his youthful companions, as before, upon the things of this life, but in secret to pray, to pour out the sorrows and desires of his soul at a throne of grace. Nor did he pray in vain. He felt his burden in some measure removed, and had a glimmering of hope that even for him pardon might be found. In this state of mind he went to the evening service. The text was "Turn you to the stronghold, ye prisoners of hope." This word was applied with power to his soul, and he was filled with joy and peace in believing. He instantly avowed the alteration in his views, and earnestly sought to be united at once with the people of God. On the third sabbath of the same month he appears to have been baptized; and the next returning ordinance he took his seat, not with the spectators in the gallery, but with the redeemed flock at the table of their Lord. Rogers's Memoir.

THE WORLD.

"She is empty, and void, and waste.-Nahum ii. 10."

She's empty: hark, she sounds: there's nothing there
But noise to fill thy ear;

Thy vain enquiry can at length but find

A blast of murm'ring wind;

It is a cask, that seems as full as fair
But merely tunn'd with air;

Fond youth, go build thy hopes on better grounds:
The soul that vainly founds

Her joys upon this world, but feeds on empty sounds.
She's empty: hark, she sounds: there's nothing in't;
The spark-engend'ring flint

Shall sooner melt, and hardest raunce shall first
Dissolve, and quench thy thirst,

Ere this false world shall still thy stormy breast
With smooth-faced calms of rest.

Thou may'st as well expect meridian light
From shades of black-mouth'd night,
As in this empty world to find a full delight.
She's empty; hark, she sounds: 'tis void and vast;
What if some flatt'ring blast

Of flatuous honour should perchance be there,
And whisper in thine ear?

It is but wind, and blows but where it list,
And vanisheth like mist.

Poor honour earth can give! What gen'rous mind
Would be so base to bind

Her heaven-bred soul a slave to serve a blast of wind?
She's empty: hark, she sounds: 'tis but a ball
For fools to play withal:

The painted film but of a stronger bubble,
That's lined with silken trouble:

It is a world, whose work and recreation
Is vanity and vexation;

A hag, repair'd with vice-complexion'd paint,
A quest-house of complaint;

It is a saint, a fiend; a worse fiend when most a saint.
She's empty: hark, she sounds: 'tis vain and void;
What's here to be enjoyed

But grief and sickness, and large bills of sorrow,
Drawn now, and cross'd to-morrow?
Or what are men, but puffs of dying breath,
Reviv'd with living death?

Fond lad, O build thy hopes on surer grounds
Than what dull flesh propounds;

Trust not this hollow world; she's empty: hark, she sounds.

By FRANCIS QUARLES-Born 1592, Died 1644.

TRAVELLERS from the western parts of Europe, who for the first time visit the ancient cities situate on the eastern coasts of the Mediterranean (or middle) sea, are always impressed with the striking contrast they present to such cities as Paris or London. In the distance, when approaching them from the sea, they present. to the view of the spectator an enchanting prospect. Situate at the head of a spacious bay, whose waters are as placid as those of an unruffled pool, the city, with its flat-roofed houses and lofty towers all of white stone, encompassed with spreading trees of varied foliage, and backed by high mountains, presents one of the grandest objects ever beheld. "Surely," the traveller is ready to exclaim, "the place must be a paradise!"

But soon the illusion vanishes! For no sooner does he set foot on shore, and enter the city, than disgust takes the place of admiration. The narrow ill-paved filthy streets, the blank walls of the houses, the abominable stench, the squalid-looking people, the innumerable hungry dogs, and the numerous importunate beggars, make him anxious to find some cleanly and quiet place of retreat,

where he may hide himself from the offensive scenes around him, and find rest and repose.

But will he find such a place? That will depend on circumstances. If there should be there a resident from his own country, with whom he is acquainted, or one to whom he has a letter of introduction, he may then hope for what he desires; but he will be doomed to sad disappointment if he depends for what he now requires on his own purse; for money will not purchase what he requires. His money the natives will greedily take to the last shilling if they can by any means get it, but in return he must not expect the attention and comforts of an European hotel. Night and day he will be tormented by bad accommodation and unrelishable food, with two exceptions-an invigorating bath, and a delicious cup of genuine coffee; as for the rest, he must depend on weariness for sleep, and fruits for food.

If placed in favourable circumstances, he may find much to interest and delight him, yet not within the city, but without it.

Outside the city he may wander, but not without a guide, among the most lovely scenery on earth, over short mossy grass, beneath shady or fruit-bearing trees, all new to him; while some mountain brook as it comes tumbling down the rocks sparkling in the bright sunshine makes sweet music, and then forms a rivulet, clear as crystal, at his feet.

Climbing to the mountain top he is well repaid for his toil. Eastward are the high ranges of Lebanon, and dim in the distance the mountains of Moab. Northward, the rich regions of ancient Syria. Southward, Jerusalem lies encircled by her hills; and far beyond old Egypt and her mighty ruins. Westward, is the “great wide sea" of the Psalms, with the city he has left, and its smooth glass-like bay, nestling at his feet!

But the traveller is a stranger and a sojourner. Tomorrow he is gone to visit other cities and gaze on other scenes.

And verily we are all strangers and sojourners, as all our fathers were, live where we may ! "For here have we no continuing city." Happy they who "seek one to come;" that " city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God;" "for he hath prepared for them a city;" "the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem;"" and there shall in no wise enter into it any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie: but they which are written in the Lamb's book of life."

BAPTISMAL FONTS.

TURNING Over the pages of an old Baptist Magazine, published about forty years ago, we found an interesting historical sketch of these vessels. Some of the facts mentioned are remarkable; and we are not aware that the further information respecting them, which may have been obtained since this sketch was written, has thrown much additional light on the subject. The writer gives "Rees's Encyclopedia," "Robinson's History of Baptism," "Mosheim's Ecclesiastical History," and other works, as his authorities. We have been induced to furnish our young readers with a copy of this sketch that they may see how the sacred institution of believers' baptism became perverted, by the interference and traditions of men, from the "good old way,"—"the way the Saviour trod."

"Fons, or font, means a spring of water, and by a natural transition may be used to denote a stream, a rill, a brook, or a running water. This term was, by the fathers of the primitive church, applied to the lake, river, or stream, in which converts to the christian faith were baptized, into the names of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. As the gospel extended, and the number of its converts increased, artificial fonts were used in the room of natural ones; yet, as in all inhabited countries, places are to be found in which baptism, according to the apostolic plan, might be administered, it is probable that the use of artificial fonts was not so much a matter of necessity, as a departure from the simplicity of christian baptism.

It must, however, be admitted, that artificial fonts in many instances may be more convenient than natural ones; and that, if the mode and the subject of baptism be what the scriptures direct they should be, it is of no importance whether the water in which it is performed be contained in a place prepared by nature or art.* At a very early period of the gospel, places were built, distinct from those for public worship, in which fonts (or baptisteries) were made for this purpose. Eusebius, describing the church of Paulinus at Tyre, says, that when the artist had finished that famous structure, and completed its internal decorations, he commenced the building annexed to it, which was chiefly for the use of such persons as needed purgation by ablution with water and the Holy Ghost. Cyril, bishop of Jerusalem, in describing a font, represents

* CAMDEN, in his Brittania, mentions a font of greenish stone, in a church at Bridkirk, in Cumberland, sufficiently capacious for immersing the adult There is an engraving of this font, with the Teutonic characters on it, in Gough's edition.