the gross ignorance of the population among which they lived; and that no one, not duly consecrated or ordained, was admitted to sacred offices. Even in later and more civilized and enlightened times, the probability of an irregularity, though very greatly diminished, is yet diminished only, and not absolutely destroyed. Even in the memory of persons living, there existed a bishop concerning whom there was so much mystery and uncertainty prevailing as to when, where, and by whom, he had been ordained, that doubts existed in the mind of many persons whether he had ever been ordained at all. I do not say that there was good ground for the suspicion; but I speak of the fact, that it did prevail; and that the circumstances of the case were such as to make manifest the possibility of such an irregularity occurring under such circumstances. 1 Now, let any one proceed on the hypothesis that there are, suppose, but a hundred links connecting any particular minister with the apostles; and let him even suppose that not above half of this number pass through such periods as admit of any possible irregularity; and then, placing at the lowest estimate the probability of defectiveness in respect of each of the remaining fifty, taken separately, let him consider what amount of probability will result from the multiplying of the whole together. The ultimate consequence must be, that any one who sincerely believes that his claim to the benefits of the gospel-covenant depends on his own minister's claim to the supposed sacramental virtue of true ordination, and this again, on perfect apostolical succession as above described, must be involved, in proportion as he reads, and inquires, and reflects, and reasons, on the subject, in the most distressing doubt and perplexity. It is no wonder, therefore, that the advocates of this theory studiously disparage reasoning, deprecate all exercise of the mind in reflection, decry appeals to evidence, and lament that even the power of reading should be imparted to the people. It is not without cause that they dread and lament "an age of too much light," and wish to involve religion in "a solemn and awful 99 99 Supposing it to be one hundred to one, in each separate case, in favor of the legitimacy and regularity of the transmission, and the links to amount to fifty (or any other number), the probability of the unbroken continuity of the whole chain must be computed as 1 of 10% of 10, &c., to the end of the whole fifty. Of course, if different data are assumed, or a different system is adopted of computing the rate at which the uncertainty increases at each step, the ultimate result will be different as to the degree of uncertainty; but when once it is made apparent that a considerable and continually-increasing uncertainty does exist, and that the result must be, in respect of any individual case, a matter of chance, it can be of no great consequence to ascertain precisely what the chances are on each side. gloom." It is not without cause that, having removed the Christian's confidence from a rock, to base it on sand, they forbid all prying curiosity to examine their foundation. The same. THE PURE GOSPEL ULTIMATELY TO TRIUMPH. It is a great consolation to us to look forward, as I think we are authorized to do, to a time when not only the knowledge of the gospel will be greatly extended, but also the influence of the gospel on Christians' hearts, and tempers, and lives-"the knowledge and love of God," and the "fruits of his Spirit"-will be still much more increased; when those who are Christians in name, will be much less disposed to content themselves with the namemuch more careful to be Christians in principle and in conductthan the far greater part of them are now: when Christians, generally, will not look, as they are apt to do now, on the apostles and others of the early church whom it is usual to distinguish by the title of saint, as possessing a degree and a kind of Christian excellence which it would be vain and presumptuous for ordinary Christians to think of equalling; but will consider, and practically remember, that all Christians are "called to be saints," and endued with the Holy Spirit of God; not indeed to inspire them with a new revelation, or to confer any miraculous gifts (which do not either prove, or make, the possessor the more acceptable in God's sight), but to enable them to purify their own hearts and lives. The wicked Balaam was a prophet; and the traitor Judas worked miracles. These extraordinary powers, therefore, are neither any proof of superior personal holiness, nor any substitute for it in God's sight. Nor is the absence of these miraculous gifts in ourselves any argument that a less degree of Christian virtue will suffice for our salvation than was required of the apostles. Let us hope that the time will come when Christian privileges and duties shall be generally viewed in this manner, and when such views shall be acted upon. Whether any of us shall live to see the beginning of such a change, is more than we can tell. Nay, we cannot tell whether each of us may not even be enabled, by his own example, and his own exertions in enlightening and improving others, to do something towards bringing about this change. But this we do know most certainly, that each of us is bound, in gratitude for Christ's redeeming mercy-in prudent care for his own immortal soul-to labor earnestly after such a change in his own life and heart. We are, each of us, bound, at his own peril, to think, and live, and act, in such a manner as would, if all Christians were to do the same, bring about, and indeed constitute, this Millennium of Christian zeal and holiness. And each of us who does this, whether others follow his example or not, "shall in no wise lose his own reward." Scripture Revelations. FRIENDS RECOGNIZED IN HEAVEN. I am convinced that the extension and perfection of friendship will constitute great part of the future happiness of the blest. Many have lived in various and distant ages and countries, who have been, in their characters (I mean not merely in their being generally estimable, but) in the agreement of their tastes, and suitableness of dispositions, perfectly adapted for friendship with each other, but who of course could never meet in this world. Many a one selects, when he is reading history-a truly pious Christian, most especially in reading Sacred history-some one or two favorite characters, with whom he feels that a personal acquaintance would have been peculiarly delightful to him. Why should not such a desire be realized in a future state? A wish to see and personally know, for example, the Apostle Paul, or John, is the most likely to arise in the noblest and purest mind; I should be sorry to think such a wish absurd and presumptuous, or unlikely ever to be gratified. The highest enjoyment doubtless to the blest, will be the personal knowledge of their great and beloved Master; yet I cannot but think that some part of their happiness will consist in an intimate knowledge of the greatest of his followers also; and of those of them in particular whose peculiar qualities are, to each, the most peculiarly attractive. In this world, again, our friendships are limited not only to those who live in the same age and country, but to a small portion even of them; to a small portion even of those who are not unknown to us, and whom we know to be estimable and amiable, and who, we feel, might have been among our dearest friends. Our command of time and leisure to cultivate friendships imposes a limit to their extent; they are bounded rather by the occupation of our thoughts, than of our affections. And the removal of such impediments in a better world seems to me a most desirable, and a most probable change. I see no reason again why those who have been dearest friends on earth should not, when admitted to that happy state, continue to be so, with full knowledge and recollection of their former friendship. If a man is still to continue (as there is every reason to suppose) a social being, and capable of friendship, it seems contrary to all probability that he should cast off or forget his former friends, who are partakers with him of the like exaltation. He will indeed be greatly changed from what he was on earth, and unfitted perhaps for friendship with such a being as one of us is now; but his friend will have undergone (by supposition) a corresponding change. And as we have seen those who have been loving playfellows in childhood, grow up, if they grow up with good, and with like dispositions, into still closer friendship in riper years, so also it is probable that when this our state of childhood shall be perfected, in the maturity of a better world, the like attachment will continue between those companions who have trod together the Christian path to glory, and have "taken sweet counsel together, and walked in the house of God as friends." The same. ELIZA COOK. ELIZA COOK is a living poetess of deserved celebrity. "By the simple force of genius, and without any aid from adventitious circumstances, she has pushed her way into the front rank of female talent, and stands ac knowledged as one of the most attractive writers of song in English literature." Her characteristics are great freedom, ease, and heartiness of sentiment and expression, and she makes you feel at once that her whole heart is in all she writes, that she gives full utterance to the depths of her soul-a soul that is in sympathy with all that is pure and true. She evidently has no regard for conventionalism, but gives, without fear, her own actual thoughts, and yet never transcends the limits of taste and delicacy. A volume of her poems appeared in England in 1840, and was republished here in 1844, under the title of "Melaia, and other Poems." The same thought is beautifully expressed by one of the most excellent of sacred poets, the author of the "Christian Year:" "That so, before the judgment-seat, Though changed and glorified each face, For endless ages to embrace." THE WORLD. Talk who will of the world as a desert of thrall, Though the chalice of Life hath its acid and gall, We murmur and droop should a sorrow-cloud stay, But the rich rays of sunshine that brighten our way, Those who look on Mortality's ocean aright, How thankless is he who remembers alone Though the raven may scare with its woe-boding tone, We may utter farewell when 'tis torture to part, Have we never rejoic'd with that wildness of heart Who hath not had moments so laden with bliss, Would waver if bidden to choose between this And the paradise promised above? Though the eye may be dimmed with its grief-drop awhile, And the whiten'd lip sigh forth its fear Yet pensive indeed is that face where the smile Is not oftener seen than the tear! There are times when the storm-gust may rattle around, Yet are there not homes where naught else can be found O haplessly rare is the portion that's ours, And strange is the path that we take, If there spring not beside us a few precious flowers, To soften the thorn and the brake. The wail of regret, the rude clashing of strife The soul's harmony often may mar But I think we must own, in the discord of Life, "Tis ourselves that oft waken the jar. Earth is not all fair, yet it is not all gloom; And the voice of the grateful will tell That He who allotted Pain, Death, and the Tomb, |