Contemplating the self-inflicted miseries of man, the anxiety which tortures his soul in the fruitless search for happiness below,-casting the eye over some few of the countless forms in which felicity has been supposed to dwell,-without proof of the contrary, it would seem highly probable, that, on the proposal of an easy remedy for so much suffering, it would be sought universally, and its application be coextensive with the disease for which it performed a never failing cure. But, who has not seen, that unnumbered defeats do not terminate the mad career in which man pursues the phantom of pleasure? but while his expectations are dashed to the ground, the guilty passions thus generated, corrode the breast in which they had their origin, he stares wildly around for a new object, which, like all its predecessors, is chosen, followed, and lost. Drinking often only to increase his thirst at the polluted streams of earthly delight, he scorns to cool his parched tongue with the healthful waters of a fountain, which is springing up unto everlasting life. Supposing that the shadows before him are the substance of permanent joy, his mortification is unutterable, when he learns that the long-sought object and the promised pleasure, are not united; nay, so far from this, he discovers that his greatest success has plunged him the deeper in an increasing mass of unmingled misery. Now in surveying the grave of these ruined hopes, the heart is ready to faint, and the great desideratum is a support extraneous from the present world. The soul, touched by a spark from heaven, becomes wearied with its fruitless researches here, and seeks something on which it may safely rest: something which can transport it across the narrow boundaries of time, and give it room to expatiate at liberty among perfect beings, in a region where sin has no place, and suffering is unknown. When the spell that bound the affections to the earth is broken, and genuine repentance succeeds, faith has a value unknown to all but the possessor of it. A perfect trust in the promises of God; an entire persuasion of the wisdom and goodness of his government; an uniform acquiescence in his disposal of all things; a resting on him in every season; all this imparts a tranquillity and offers a support, to which the man was before a stranger. In St. Paul's definition of faith, in the eleventh chapter of Hebrews, there is a strength and clearness in the original, which our translation does not fully preserve. "Faith is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen." The word here rendered substance, signifies also the basis, foundation, or support, on which any thing is built. Looking at the many passages in which the word occurs, it will be found, that the inspired writers have always given a meaning completely accordant with this. Whenever faith is mentioned, a preeminent importance is assigned it among the graces of the Christian. Let it be noticed, that the life of a believer is represented as a continual advancement, and not as rest at any given point. "We walk by faith" To those who think activity unnecessary, I recommend an examination of the Bible on this subject. The terms there used, are such as indicate the greatest energy. The expressions of "running in a race," walking in a narrow way," a striving to enter a strait gate," "fighting a good fight," &c. all show that the primitive Christians were commanded to exercise unremitting labors, combining diligence with zeal. No sluggishness can be tolerated, nor any excuse for it offered. They must not only "forget the things which are behind," but "reach forth unto those things which are before.” Earnest endeavors must attend every step of the journey. The wilderness around them must bear testimony to the ardor of their exertions. Barren spots, in every part of the desart through which they travel, require the assiduous hand of cultivation. The consequences of being influenced by principles opposite to those of the world, will be discernible. There is a difference in the deportment of those who truly walk by faith, and those who do not. One whose affections are centered in heaven, will not heat his passions in the chase of toys below. If he have substantial hopes of an incorruptible crown, he cannot eagerly seek the giddy trifles which amuse the worshippers of mammon, nor can an appetite easily relish the empty husks dealt out to the votaries of pleasure, after having feasted on the bread of life. X. 1 For the Panoplist. ON THE INSTRUCTION TO BE DRAWN FROM ADVERSITY. No man sees the departure of his pleasures with indifference. The continuance of enjoyment is desired universally, as much as its beginning; and so strong is this desire, that not only its frustration touches us with grief, but every prelude to disappointment is unavoidably painful. The degree of pain is more or less acute, in proportion to the delicacy of our sensibilities, and the ardor of affection for the fugitive joy. Now, if our anticipations of suffering had only a narrow boundary,-if the suffering itself ceased as soon as the storm, which swept away our comforts, had passed by, much of the surrounding gloom would vanish, our clouded vision would brighten, and the lucid intervals between one tempest and another, would be more justly called seasons of enjoyment. But such is not our condition. Not only the final view of the object of our hopes, and the last trembling farewell which falters on our lips; not only the early remembrances of the separation, fill us with anguish; but, whatever, at any time, by association brings back the image of long lost joy, opens the fountain of our tears anew. Whatever reminds us that our loss is irreparable, gives a permanence to affliction which it could not otherwise possess. This desire to prolong the duration of our joys, increases by cultivation; and though perhaps most discernible in our bosoms, at the moment of their escape, it is intense whenever we regret the extreme frailty of the past. Its strength is also found in the forebodings of ills in prospect. So great disquiet arises from anticipating the ruin of earthly delights, that it spoils the enjoyment now in possession; antedates the scattered blossoms of the tree, whose buds are just beginning to disclose their beauties. The pain attendant on these sad presages, does not prevent their recurrence. If we seek to escape t them by retreating to gayer scenes, they tread closely on our steps. and while memory holds up the mirror of former days, they constrain us to look to the counterpart in the future. Let us not fear to examine our precarious standing on a precipice, whence thousands plunge into eternity daily, nor to recollect, that the phantoms now pursued will elude our grasp. Though it is confessedly wrong to indulge in gloomy forecasts, when the occasion calls for vigorous exertion, and the mental energies are thereby withdrawn from the field of vigorous labor, nevertheless, the consideration of our true state, and the duties of which it demands the performance, is equally consonant with prudence and religion. To know where we are, and to what we are approaching, it is necessary to look over the space we have passed, and to judge of future probabilities both from our knowledge of ourselves, and our observation of others. Life so universally desired, and the extreme dread of dissolution, are both to be turned to advantage. Death's universal empire, and the appalling fears with which it is approached, viewed in connexion, establish the fact, so clearly taught in Revelation, that it was originally inflicted as a penalty. Few things can be plainer, than that a Being of infinite perfection, would not punish a creature entirely innocent. As we have the positive assurance, that the wrath of man shall praise God, and that all the evil in the universe shall subserve his glory, and be made conducive, in some way unknown to us, to the happiness of those that love him; if we believe the divine promise, it becomes a question worth our attention, in a world deluged in misery, how the calamities of the present condition, and even its termination, can be made most subservient to the great design of advancement in holiness and conformity to God? Let the apparent design of Providence be considered a moment, in relation to the memorials of our frailty, which are scattered in our path. In the physical world, there is a continual reference to its dissolation. In the approximation of the planetary system towards a common centre,-in the succession of fading autumn, and the death like aspect of winter, are seen so many harbingers of nature's -"strong convulsions, and her final groan." These seem principally intended for the instruction of man, by the analogy they bear to his decay and death. In the silence of a winter's evening, who has not cast an anxious look on the desolated face of nature? Who has not pondered on the resemblance between the forlorn visage, which meets him at every turn, and the winter of old age? At such times, can he avoid reflecting on the brevity of life, the apparent acceleration of the march of time, and considering his own preparation for quitting an abode where solid happiness is a stranger? In the howling tempest, which scatters alike the beauties. of the garden and the honors of the grove, is not the spectator compelled to remember the ravages of death?-casting his fading eye backward on the melancholy vale of departed centuries,-and the tombs of forgotten generations,-docs not imagination place him so . far beyond the boundaries of time, as to annihilate the trifles with which he has been amusing himself and others? If in his heart ever dwelt a spark of love to God, will not such reflections, united with faith, place him on the top of Pisgah, whence he may view, not only the wilderness he has passed, but catch at least a glimpse of the promised land? As far as my observation has extended, I can safely say, that, with the exception of those very few who were apparently renewed in extreme childhood, I know no instance, in which a soul sought in earnest for a treasure in heaven, till fully persuaded of the emptiness of the world; that is, till it had clearly seen the entire impossibility of finding happiness on earth. So numerous are the ties that bind us to earth, and so earnestly do we multiply them, that, instead of dissolving our sublunary attachments, every day finds us more and more fastened here. The sinner not only desires no other portion, but hates to learn that there is another. It grieves him to be told, that his possessions are poor, compared with a portion in heaven. Earth and its fictitious joys are all that he wishes to know. If God would permit him to live in it forever, he would exult in the prospect. Having not the smallest relish for holiness, the presence of a Being in whom this attribute was perfect, would be to his depraved heart intolerable. Sometimes, in a state of mind like this, a man is so thoroughly disheartened at the prospect before him, that, in a sad review of his blasted expectations, he sinks into a melancholy despondency, from which neither the efforts of friends nor his own courage can arouse him. Happy indeed would he be, did his troubles loosen his hold on temporary possessions, before they shall be torn from his embrace. But I fear such salutary consequences of earthly suffering are more rare than would be expected. Many are found bending beneath "a load of woes," who seem never to apply for relief to the Sovereign Restorer, nor to think of the perfect remedy offered in the Gospel. When such application is made in all the humility of true penitence, and the comforts of pardon and peace have filled the aching heart, the subsequent character is rendered peculiarly interesting; he may afford many a salutary lesson to the young, who indulge in romantic visions of futurity, and to all whose expectations arise from erroneous views of human life. I just now saw a countenance, whose lincaments had been familiar to me almost from infancy; but which bad not once met my eye during a long interval of years. The contrast between the expression of a face at thirty, and the same at threescore, is truly affecting. The hand of time had rested heavily on my friend, and in the school of adversity he had received many painful lessons. His locks were silvered with the frost of age, and to him the hoary head seemed indeed "a crown of glory." An expression of great firmness mingled with vivacity, had formerly indicated the qualities of his mind. This had given place to a glow of placid benignity blended with a darker coloring of sorrow. The eye seemed to tell, that, having often looked into the grave, it had become so familiar with the contemplation of its glooms, that it had no more drops to shed there:-that, having seen the dust strewed over all that was mortal of its earthly delights, it had learned to forestal the hour of its being closed on this dark region, and opened in eternal day. Amongst the indications of serenity and grief combined in the features of my friend, I was taught to believe, that if he had mourned deeply, he had also been comforted; and that the same gracious hand, which inflicted the wound, had also kindly “wiped away his tears." Indeed, there was no room to doubt, that in reviewing the rugged declivities of his journey, he no longer wished to tread them again. A readiness to converse on the subject of death, and a tone of deep and chastened feeling, with which he spoke of the hour of his dismission, declared the wish of the imprisoned spirit no more to linger here. Hope in his Savior had deprived the last enemy of his terrors. N. P. For the Panoplist. PRESENT ENCOURAGING ASPECT OF THE UNEVANGELIZED PARTS THE Christian of the present day is often asked, "Why do you indulge so high hopes of the spread of the Gospel? Why do you expect that the Jew, Mahommedan, and Pagan, will suddenly break over their prejudices, and exchange their religion for yours? Why do you believe that the present and future generations of Christians are about to do more for the church than their predecessors?” To questions like these, he is ready to reply in the first place, that the unevangelized nations are actually in a more favorable state to receive the Gospel now, than formerly. They are more perplexed with doubts respecting their own religion. They are better acquainted with Christianity, and less hostile to its interests. Another propitious omen is, the extensive prevalence of peace. The various nations seem to have agreed, almost with one accord, to beat their weapons of war into implements of husbandry; and while their wealth and population are rapidly increasing, they are enjoying and imparting more and more,the blessings of science and civilization. But neither the present spirit of the unevangelized nations, nor the extensive prevalence of peace, is so elevating to the hopes of the Christian, as the present spirit of Christendom. What this spirit is, so far as relates to the present case, may be seen from a small collection of facts. About 90 years ago, the little band of Moravians, scarcely 600 in number, began their missionary work. Of all the multitudes then professing the name of Christ, they only, seem to have felt the force of his parting injunction, "Go-preach the Gospel to every creature In this grand work, for 70 years, they continued to take the lead of all the Christian world. Within the last 20 years, the church at large has been waking from her slumbers. Instead of 150 missionary laborers, she has now in the field a number not less than 400.-Sixteen years ago, scarcely a single Bible Society of any extensive influence, existed. Now, the number publicly known is little short of 1000. Before the establishment of these Societies, little was done towards translating and printing the Word of Life for the barbarous nations. Since then, nearly 50 of these nations have |