ever cast out and wretched it may have been before, it recognizes the approach of the Divinity. From that memorable hour it enters into a divine companionship, which neither time, nor place, nor power, nor selfish men, nor confederated devils, can delay or separate. God's love to a truly purified being is infinite, and nothing short of infinite power could keep him even for a moment from a most intimate and essential union with such a holy soul. No matter in what outward condition that soul may be, no matter how unknown and unhonored among men, it has no sooner become purified in the baptism of holiness, than it shines infinitely more brightly to the omniscient eye than the purest and brightest star of his own glittering firmament. Prompted by the unchangeable principles of his infinite nature, He comes to his own, and it can no longer be said that "his own received him not."

On this interesting subject, viz. the necessary union of a sanctified soul with God, I have often read with interest a passage in the writings of Dr. Cudworth. Speaking of holiness, he says, "If it be but hearty and sincere, it can no more be cut off and discontinued from God, than a sunbeam here upon earth can be broken off from its intercourse with the sun, and be left alone amidst the mire and dirt of this world. Holiness is something of God wherever it is. It is an efflux from Him, that always hangs upon him, and lives in Him; as the sunbeams, although they gild this lower world, and spread their golden wings over us, yet they

are not so much here, where they shine, as in the sun from whence they flow."

But although God, in point of fact, is always intimately united to souls that are in sanctification, such is the limited nature of the human mind, and so many are the objects in the present life which necessarily occupy its attention, that it is not always consciously percipient of his presence. And hence the advantage of interior solitude; the inestimable value of that silent and hidden retreat within, where the soul can find the Bridegroom, who is always present without always being known. It is then she hears his voice, and like the spouse in the Canticles exclaims. "He that brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me is love." It is in interior solitude that he speaks, because the inward ear, no longer occupied by the noise and discords of the world, is prepared to listen. We may lay it down as a great practical and religious principle, that God does not, as a general thing, speak efficiently to an inattentive ear. His honor is too much concerned to teach those who are unwilling to attend. He speaks too in the "still small voice," and hence he is necessarily understood in proportion as there is the greater inward silence. And where there is not some degree of interior solitude by a withdrawment of the thoughts from the world, and by a meek and subdued stillness of the passions, may we not even say, that the divine message, the voice of the Holy Ghost, is not and cannot be heard at all? How great, then, is the loss of those who are stunned by the confusion and

clamor of the things without, and hear not the teachings of the "still small voice!" How great is the folly as well as the loss of those who are willing to accept the babblings of fallen human nature for the conversations of the unsullied Divinity! my God, may I enter into this calm rest of interior solitude, that thou mayst speak, and that my soul may hear. In the language of one, who knew thee and loved thee, I would say, "O God, who art the truth, make me one with thee in everlasting love! I am often weary of reading and weary of hearing. In thee alone is the sum of all my desires. Let all teachers be silent: let the whole creation be dumb before thee; and DO THOU ONLY SPEAK UNTO MY SOUL."*

It is the unagitated soul, (unagitated, not because it is inert and stupid, but because it has shut out disturbing outward influences, and has entered into the rest and purity of perfect love,) to which God especially communicates himself. God is ever ready to communicate himself. God is love; and LOVE, whose nature it is to go out of itself for the good of others, lives by communication. The true and available activity, therefore, is to put ourselves, by inward retirement, in the attitude of quiescent and reverential reception; to open the door, as it were, for the divine entrance; to seek God by seeking a deliverance from every thing, which opposes the admission of God. Love, which is active without weariness, and may be said to labor without toil, will find us out, if we do not hide ourselves in

* Author of the Imitation of Christ, Bk. I, Ch. 6.

the dark corners of this miserable and selfish world. Well has the poet Wordsworth said of the teachings of nature, and much more, when it is properly understood, (viz. as inculcating a cessation from our own wisdom that we may become receptive of a higher wisdom,) can it be said of the teachings of religion;

"Nor less I deem, that there are powers,
"Which of themselves our minds impress;
"That we can feed this mind of ours
"In a wise passiveness.

"Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum
"Of things for ever speaking,
"That nothing of itself will come,

"But we must still be seeking?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH.

Of the excision and crucifixion of the natural life.

["And if thy right eye offend thee, PLUCK IT OUT, and cast it from thee; for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell. And if thy right hand offend thee, CUT IT OFF, and cast it from thee; for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell." Mat. 5: 29, 30.]

MAN, in his state of rebellion, has formed for himself a new centre. To that centre, which is his own selfish interest, he has bound himself by an almost infinite number of ties. Hence the necessity of the process of Excision; a process often exceedingly painful; but inevitable to him, who would be relieved from his false position, and put in harmony with God. There must be a CUTTING OFF, and a renewed and repeated CUTTING OFF, till the tree of Self, despoiled of its branches and foliage, and thus deprived of the nourishment of the rain, the sun, and the atmosphere, dies down to its very root; giving place, in its destruction, to the sweet bloom of the tree of life.

that a

We have formerly had occasion to say, life of practical holiness depends essentially upon