PERVERTS AND HALF PERVERTS.

To the Editor of the Christian Observer.

THE question is sometimes suggested, "Why a certain proportion of the Tractarian body have clung to the Church of England, while others have seceded from it?" May I say a few words in reply to that question?

Of those who had for a time swerved in the direction of Rome, but are still adhering to our own Church, I venture to believe that many have really discovered the error of their way; and finding that the ignis fatuus of Tractarianism was leading them into a quagmire, have resolved to walk henceforth only by the light of Scriptural and Protestant truth.

Others of the same party appear to me to have been startled by the fact, that Tractarianism could not honestly go hand in hand with a Church which they believed to be a true one; and these have reasonably rejected the new religion, because it must in honesty have compelled them to reject the old one.

Others of the non-seceding class are to be spoken of with less respect. They have still a strong inkling for the Ultra High Church or Sacramentarian system (so-called, because it exalts the Sacraments to the place which the Saviour ought to occupy in the Church); but they have no taste for giving up the loaves and fishes, the dignity and reputation of a Protestant profession. They would quit the Church if they could carry her temporalities and honours along with them. Such persons must be regarded as taking rather a selfish and logical, than a devotional, view of the questions in dispute. And hence they are satisfied rather to continue balancing the arguments on both sides to the end, than to take a step which involves a considerable sacrifice of interest and reputation.

The adherence of Dr. Pusey to the Establishment, in spite of principles and tastes which ought in reason to have forced him out of it, many years since, is a secret of which we suppose no one keeps the key, or knows the mystery, but himself. It appears that while he has handed a larger number of persons than any other man over the walls of the Established Church, he very resolutely keeps within the enclosure himself.

Who then are the men, generally speaking, that have seceded? In the first place, we must name those who are to be regarded as the most upright and conscientious of the Tractheology should be collected. Truth is to be the one object of pursuit ; and truth is to be sought in the spirit of candour, and amidst the pages of the Bible, rather than in the writings of the soundest theologians. We believe that all exclusive establishments would have a tendency to check the growth of candour and the unbiassed study of the word of God; and therefore to exert an unfavourable influence over the noblest graces of the Christian character.-EDITOR.]

H

tarian body. There are men who, honestly convinced that the Church of England and a sort of masked Popery are incompatible, and preferring the latter, have leaped boldly over the fence, and sought their food in a new pasture. We deeply mourn over such persons, because some of them must be valuable members of any Church; and we quarrel with them only on the ground that they have failed to examine, in a devout and diligent spirit, the opposite claims of the two Churches. -It is better to quit the camp, than to stay in it and betray its interests.

There are others of the seceders who are rather seceders from taste than from principle; and, in seceding, have rather yielded to taste, than to logic or to any strong conviction of the understanding. These have little or no objection to the doctrinal views of the National Church; nor have they much to object to anything that it says or does. What they do chiefly allege against it is its deficiencies. It fails to supply enough of music, and painting, and dramatic exhibitions-priests in silk and painted garments, gorgeous churches, floral altars, beautiful images, multiplied genuflections and prostrations. Their taste craves a more poetical and, as it is called, æsthetic religion-a religion of the senses, of the ear and eye and smell. Our cold, dry, northern ritual is too dull and severe for them. Italian colours and forms are more congenial to their passion for ornament and display; and they quit us in search of more luxurious pastures. I believe that mere sentimentalists are greatly exposed to danger from this source; just as mere logicians are tempted to seek their religion in the total absence of all that reasonably delights the senses, and satisfies the poetry of our nature. The one would walk only in a garden of flowers; the others, in a sandy desert. The Church of England appears to me to meet all the reasonable wishes of those who feel as well as reason, and reason as well as feel. But those who tend to excess on either side are likely, the one class to go out at one door, and the others at the opposite door. Our Protestant Church would fain be the "mother of us all;" but persons of extreme tendencies are unable to see the value of her sobriety, and to profit from her motherly tenderness and sympathy.

You will, I suppose, come to the conclusion, from what I have now said, that there are certain classes of mankind which the Church is not likely to retain. Such is my opinion; and I may add to what I have now said, that whilst they are, as I think, tremendous sufferers by their secession, I am by no means sure that we are not gainers by it.

H.

CHRIST. OBSERV. No. 215.

5 B

REVIEW OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

Nettleton and his Labours; being the Memoir of Dr. Nettleton, by Bennet Tyler, D.D., remodelled in some parts, with occasional Notes and Extracts, and specimens of his Sermons and Addresses, and an Introduction, by the Rev. Andrew A. Bonar. Edinburgh: T. and T. Clark. 1854.

THE history of a man, of whom it is asserted by credible witnesses that he was the means of awakening thousands of persons -of whom it is believed by some, that he was the means of awakening no less than thirty thousand souls-must be worthy of attentive examination.

A blessing so great as this, is said to have accompanied the labours of "the revival preacher" in the United States, Dr. Nettleton, during a life of no longer span than sixty-one years, and chiefly within the compass of the years during which he had strength to carry out his plans with full effect.

We have little satisfaction in some of the American "revivals" -a feeling in which we shall have the concurrence of many of our readers. They appear to us, in many instances, to be rather exhibitions of human passion and sympathy, than scenes of a real spiritual influence; and hence, while some conversions have taken place, (for God can make everything contribute to His glory,) to a great extent they have issued in backsliding, or a sad relapse into sin,-if that may be called relapse or backsliding which is, in fact, the falling away from a state which is not the work of the enlightening and sanctifying Spirit.

This book, towards its close, displays the deep distress of Dr. Nettleton in the contemplation of the excitement, or, as we may call them, the vagaries, of the "revivals" attempted, when his own labours were nearly over, by Mr. Finney, and others of that school. There was a want of genuineness in them, and a confidence in the arm of flesh, which must needs have alarmed and afflicted so good a man.

With Dr. Nettleton a "revival" was a special and strenuous effort to awaken sinners, extended in one place over a few weeks, accompanied with methods, cautiously used, for maintaining and ripening the work wherever it began. Throughout the whole period of it, he was most jealous for God, and most anxious that all should regard the work as to be done by Him, and to His glory, if effected at all.

We shall endeavour, after we have faintly sketched the history of his life, before he was drawn, without seeking or desiring it, into this peculiar kind of ministry, to gather out of various parts of this Memoir some account of his modes of proceeding.

Asahel Nettleton was born at North Killingworth, in Connecticut, on the 21st of April, 1783. His father was a respect

able farmer, in comfortable circumstances; and Asahel was the eldest son, and the second child. He had no educational advantages beyond those afforded by the common district school; but it may be inferred that he made a good use of his scanty opportunities, inasmuch as he was, even when a young man, employed for several winters as a school teacher. He was brought up by his parents with some care, and was at times the subject of serious impressions; but there was a great turning point in his spiritual life from occasional impressions to something abiding,-a work of God in his soul, which his biographer thus describes :

"On the night of the Annual Thanksgiving, in the Fall or autumn of 1800, he attended a ball. The next morning, while alone, and thinking with pleasure on the scenes of the preceding night, and of the manner in which he had proposed to spend the day in company with some of his young companions, the thought suddenly rushed upon his mind: We must all die, and go to the judgment; and with what feelings shall we then reflect upon these scenes? This thought was, for the moment, overwhelming ; and it left an impression on his mind which he could not efface. His pleasing reflections on the past, and anticipations of the future, vanished at once, and gave place to feelings of a very different kind. These feelings he concealed; but he could not entirely banish them from his mind. The world had lost its charms. All those amusements in which he had taken delight, were overcast with gloom. His thoughts dwelt much on the scenes of death, judgment, and eternity. He knew that he had an immortal soul, that must be happy or miserable in the future world; and although he had consoled himself with the thought that he was as good as others around him, and that his condition was, of course, as safe as theirs, yet he now felt conscious that he was unprepared to meet his God. He at the same time perceived that he was liable every moment to be cut down by the stroke of death, and summoned to his last account. He had no peace of mind, by day or by night. Although, at this time, he had no very just conceptions of the Divine law, or of the depravity of his heart; yet he was sensible that he was a sinner, and that his sins must be pardoned, or he could not be saved. The duty of prayer was now forcibly impressed upon his mind, a duty which he had almost entirely neglected; and it was not without a great struggle in his feelings, that he was brought to bend the knee to Jehovah. At the same time, he gave himself much to the reading of the Scriptures, and other religious books, and separated himself as much as possible from thoughtless companions. So far as he knew, and so far as is now known, there was at that time no other person in the town under serious impressions. The young people with whom he had been most intimate, were exceedingly thoughtless, and given to vain and sinful amusements. They were at this time making arrangements for the establishment of a dancing school, and they expected his aid and co-operation in the measure. But, to their astonishment, he utterly refused to have anything to do with it. He had made up his mind to quit for ever all such amusements, and to seek the salvation of his soul. But as he did not reveal his feelings to any of his associates, they knew not how to account for this sudden change in his appearance and conduct. Some, perhaps, suspected the true cause; while others supposed, that, for some reason unknown to them, his affections had become alienated from his former friends. Thus for months he mourned in secret, and did not communicate his feelings to a single individual. During this period he had a strong desire that some of his young companions would set out with him in pursuit of religion; and although his proud heart would not permit him to make known to them the state of his mind, yet he occasionally ventured to expostulate with them on the folly and sinfulness of their conduct; and to some few individuals he addressed short letters on the same subject. These warnings were treated by

some with ridicule and contempt. On the minds of others they made an impression which, as he afterwards learned, was never effaced. This was particularly the case with Philander Parmele, who was afterwards his classmate in college, and intimate friend through life. When Mr. Nettleton first became anxious respecting the salvation of his soul, he had not, as has been remarked, any very just conceptions of the depravity of his heart. He was sensible that he was not in a safe condition. He knew that he needed something which he did not possess, to prepare him for Heaven. He had a general vague idea that he was a sinner, but he saw not the fountain of iniquity within him. As is common with persons when awakened to a sense of their danger, he went about to establish his own righteousness. He vainly presumed, that by diligent and persevering efforts, he should recom mend himself to the favour of God. He was, accordingly, very abundant in his religious services. He not only abandoned those amusements in which he had delighted, and forsook in a great measure the society of those who took no interest in the subject of religion, but he spent much time in retirement, earnestly crying to God for mercy. He would often repair to the fields and forests for this purpose; and he sometimes spent a large part of the night in prayer. In this way he expected to obtain the forgiveness of his sins, and the peace and consolation which God has promised to His people. But after labouring for some time in this manner, he became alarmed at his want of success. God seemed to pay no regard to his prayers; and how to account for this fact, he knew not. At this crisis he was assailed by infidel doubts. The question arose in his mind, whether he had not proved the Bible to be false? It is written: Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find.' He said to himself, I have asked, but I have not received; I have sought, but I have not found. How, then, can these promises be true? And how can the book which contains them be the Word of God?' He found himself disposed to cherish these doubts, and to seek for further proof that the Bible is not true. He searched the Scriptures on purpose to find contradictions in them; and he even went so far as to begin to doubt the existence of a God. Like the fool, he said in his heart, There is no God: that is, he wished there were none; for he was sensible that, if there was a God, he was not reconciled to his character; and he wished the Bible to be false, because he saw that it condemned him. But his efforts to satisfy himself that religion is not a reality, did not succeed. The thought would sometimes arise, 'What if the Bible should prove to be true! Then I am lost for ever.' This would fill him with inconceivable horror. These struggles in his mind led him to a more just knowledge of his character and condition. He began to see the plague of his own heart. His doubts respecting the truth of the promises which God has made to those who ask and seek, were dispelled by the painful conviction that he never had asked and sought as God requires. The commandment came, sin revived, and he died. He saw that God looks on the heart, and that He requires holy and spiritual service of His creatures; that He seeketh such to worship Him, as worship Him in spirit and in truth.' He saw, at the same time, that in all his religious services he had been prompted by selfish motives. He saw that, in all which he had done, he had had no love to God, and no regard to His glory; but that he had been influenced solely by a desire to promote his own personal interest and happiness. He saw that in all the distress which he had experienced on account of his sin, there was no godly sorrow, no true contrition. He had not hated sin because it was committed against God, but had merely dreaded its consequences. During this period, he read President Edwards's narrative of the revival of religion in Northampton, and the memoir of Brainerd. These served very much to deepen the conviction of his utterly lost condition. The preaching which he heard from time to time also greatly distressed him. As he says in his narrative, every sermon condemned him. Nothing gave him any relief. He seemed to be sinking daily deeper and deeper in guilt and wretchedness. One day, while alone in the field, engaged in prayer, his heart rose against God, because He did not hear and answer his prayers. Then the words of the Apostle, The carnal mind is in enmity against God,'