no man deserving the name of a judge, who would not pronounce the evidence complete and conclusive. Now so strong, nay stronger, is the testimony of the Evangelists to the character and miracles of our Saviour. For here the witnesses, so far from having any interest to misrepresent, put to hazard every earthly interest, and incurred disgrace, persecution, and suffering. Nay, they sealed with their blood the truth of their testimony. Voluntary martyrdom has ever been considered the highest evidence in the power of man to give of his sincerity. Such a person may in some cases be mistaken, but he is doubtless always sincere. But here the sincerity of the witnesses proves their truth; for they did not lay down their lives in support of an opinion merely, but of a factnay, of a multitude of plain, palpable facts, where they could not be mistaken. There is no truth in the world if their testimony is not true. It has the seal of truth stamped on the face of it.— Each witness tells his story in his own honest way. There is nothing like concert, or collusion, or any care to guard against cavil. And what has so often been made a ground of cavil, their variety, is the strongest proof of their honesty. When several witnesses relate the same series of events, if they are honest and indepenlent, there will be variety; because some circumstances will strike one the most forcibly, and some another. But there will be no discrepancy in the great and essential points of their testimony. It is this variety, with this harmony, which never fails to impress a discerning mind with the veracity of witnesses. And it is this variety, with this harmony, which we find in the testimony of the Evangelists. For after the severest scrutiny to which any human testimony was ever subjected, they are found to be perfectly reconcileable and consistent. There is variety, but not discordancy. They are all consistent with each other, and with themselves. I repeat, there is no truth in the world if their testimony is not true. They could not have been deceived themselves, and they had no motive to deceive others. But I will go further and assert, that if, contrary to all we have ever seen, or heard, or read, and to every established principle of human nature, they should have engaged in an enterprize of fraud and deception, without any mofire, and even with every motive arrayed against them, to deter them from such egregious folly and wickedness, they could have imposed upon no person of common sense. The nature of the facts precluded all possibility of imposition. They could have made no isan believe that our Saviour twice fed thousands with a few loaves and fishes, had no such events taken place. They could have made no one believe that he called Lazarus from the grave where he had lain four days, had no such miracle been performed? Or that he rose from the dead, had there not been the most irrefragable proof of the fact? They mention time, place, and names, ke men who knew they had no cause to fear a detection. Where as, "falsehood deals in generals," and will not commit itself by a particular specification. I repeat, there is no truth in the world if the Christian Religion is not true, and we may throw aside all regard to human evidence. For it rests upon exactly that kind of evidence which is best cal culated to convince every mind that has been trained to accurate reasoning and thorough investigation; hence it has convinced the greatest minds that ever examined it, or that ever dwelt on this globe. Indeed, we may safely pronounce those whom this evidence fails to convince, invulnerable to all the powers of moral demonstration. To them all argument is useless-the heart must be cured, before the head can be enlightened. WARD. THE DANGER OF DEFERRING RELIGION. <"THE HOUSE WAS NOT BUILT, AND THE MAN WAS DEAD!” Not long sice I was listening to a lecture from one who had bee a herald of the cross, in which he was laboring to set forth in something near its true colors, the danger of putting off a preparation for death till an indefinite future. For this purpose he repeatedly rallied all his powers of reason and eloquence, (which by th way, were by no means indifferent,) and discovered an uncomme degree of feeling and of deep concern for the safety of his hearer. Some of the first years of his ministerial labors he had been employed as a missionary, and had labored with uncommon success in the destitute places and among the early settlements of the West. He had acquired the art of chaining his hearers to their seats by expressing only what he felt; and seldom, if ever, did he fail of seizing at the right time and setting forward in the most perfect order, those incidents and circumstances which are familar to almost every one. An anecdote was scarce ever wanting to illustrate his subject. Having carried his hearers along with him to a very high pitch of feeling, in endeavoring to show them the snare that every man lays for his own soul when he ventures to delay what he dares not abandon, he begged permission to relate a short anecdote. He commenced by saying: "I was once, while a missionary to the West, employed for a short time in one particular neighborhood, and had preached several times at the house of one who seemed to be the principal man among them, and who, if I mistake not, possessed some influence over the whole. It was soon very evident that the Spirit of God was convincing many that they were in want of the one thing needful; and among the rest, methought the man of the house discovered some signs of being a little uneasy; he acted as if he were seeking rest and found none. "I seized the first opportunity that presented itself, of conversing with him; and soon learned he was of that numerous class of the comunity, of which my hearers this night are a small part, who only succeed in persuading themselves to postpone the great change of character, the preparation for death, by promising themselves it shall be attended to before long. In his endeavors to keep his hold on his sins and put off for this time,' the labor of coming to Christ, he ran behind every thing, made use of every thing as a refuge, that an active and vigorous imagination could suggest. With the weapon of eternal truth I followed hard after him, and at last drove him from his last resort. He discovered that I saw great uneasiness in him,and immediately rose from his seat and walked to his door; he stood a short time without turning or speaking. At length he said, Mr. Bstep this way. I rose and went to the door. Do you see,' said he, 'that beautiful building spot there?' I answered him, 'Yes.' As soon as I am able,' added he, I intend to build me a good house there, and then I will attend to the subject of religion, and not before.' The three last words he pronounced with the utmost difficulty, and seemed as if he would have choaked before they were articulated. I turned from him without adding a sentence; and in a day or two after left the place. Two or three years after this, I passed through the same neighborhood; I saw the house was not yet built: I stopped and made inquiry for the man-but he was DEAD!!", Vermont Chronicle. THE BURIAL. In a small town on the Green Mountains in Massachusetts, lived a miller by occupation, who has long since gone to the grave, but whose memory is dear to the hearts of thousands. He had a daughter a lovely girl-whose mind, like the scenery around, was romantic, and somewhat inclined to pensiveness. He regarded her with a father's tenderness, and seemed always to feel a kind of resigned distress, lest that interesting child should fail at last of Heaven, with all its unspeakable joys. Such a charmer would not long escape the notice of those who hoped for happiness in life. She was soon affianced and married to a young man of respectable connections and standing in society, but far below her in real excellence. They, however, were mutually happy in each other's society and friendship; and in contemplating the future, there seemed to rise before them luxuriant fields and flowery paths and beautiful habitations. But he' who seeth not as man seeth, had otherwise determined. This mountain flowret was doomed to wither and die. Scarcely had one flecting year dispensed its blessings, when a fever seized on her delicate frame, and she gradually sunk under its burnings. With her husband and father it was now a time of indescribable interest. The former loved her for her gentleness and endearing mental qualities, and wept at the bare thought of bidding a last alien to all ho held dear on earth. Her father, too, knew well how to admire the exercise of the virtuous affections. A thousand nameless endearments seemed to have entwined his very existence with her own. But what threw a hallowed pensiveness over the scene, was, that she had been the child of his prayers. He had carried her in his arms before the baptismal altar, and there given her away to God. Often in the darkness and solitude of night he had knelt before the eternal throne, and commended her to the blessed Jesus. How could he now see her laid in the grave, without hope in his atoning blood? How could he lock upon her cold, lifeless clay, when the spirit that once animated it, was in the world of despair? "Poor man!" said many a heart, "he cannot survive, if she dies thus-so intense is his vision of eternal things." Meanwhile the disease was gaining ground; she saw she was going-not without serious alarm, but with no hope! Many a time when her kind father bent over her bed-side with the voice of affectionate entreaty, and a countenance strug gling between the emotions of anxiety and resignation, she would Took on him with a despairing eye, and say that his pious counsels were all in vain her harvest was past, her summer ended, and she was not saved! Then the broken hearted miller would go away and commune alone with God; till every tear was dry, and every tumultuous feeling hushed in the sublime contemplation, that "the Lord God omnipotent reigneth." The sad, the melancholy day at last came. The lovely green that spread its mantle around the secluded habitation, seemed now to be tinged with sorrow. The bereaved husband, with a broken heart, bedewed the cold clay with many tears. Other rela tives and friends sat weeping around the remains of so dear an object; it was verily a house of mourning. But amid this afflicted groupe stood the venerable father, alternately raising his melting eyes to heaven, and then casting them affectionately upon his departed child. No murmuring, no complaint, no inordinate sorrow. and The Lord gave," said he, "and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." He then kneeled down by the bed-side, and poured forth his heart in fervent supplication to God; recounting his mercies, and praying that this affliction, though for the present not joyous but grievous, might work out for them all a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. It was affecting to hear such notes of thankfulness ascend from the abode of poverty and tears, while many-ah! too many, whose lives have been crowned with goodness, never felt one emotion of gratitude to Him from whom all their blessings flow. The morrow came. After the usual services at the afflicted dwelling, a procession was formed, and moved slowly to the grave. Around it all were quickly gathered, and the damp earth was closed over the loved remains. The last impress had been sealed-the last look had been taken-earth was returned to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The heart of the bereaved husband seemed rent with anguish. Even now we seem to hear his stifled groans. has vouchsafed to me this day such a glimpse of his glory, that my Religious Intelligencer THEOLOGICAL SEMINARIES. In the tenth number of our Magazine, we published the Report of the Directors of the Theological Seminary at Maryville. The object of the Synod of Tennessee, in establishing this institution, was, to furnish young men who are preparing for the ministry in the western country, with those advantages for improvement, which are enjoyed in the older states. Efforts have been made to excite prejudice in the public mind against this Seminary, as though it were designed to interfere with the liberties of the American people. To professors of religion who have been harping on this subject, we would say-Look into the following catalogue of Theological Seminaries, and if you find that your own denomination is not engaged in building up Theological Seminaries, continue, if you think proper, to censure the Presbyterians. But if you find that your church is busily engaged in this matter, blush for your former ignorance, and "first cast the beam out of the eye" of your own church, before you further denounce the Presbyterians. We request the unprejudiced reader, who is not connected with any church, to enquire and satisfy himself, whether those Theological Seminaries, which have been established in other states, by |