people be in any trouble but what shall redound to his glory and their good.

Secondly, Why are they shut up? It is that they may be cured of the errors that abound in the world; and, also, that they should have a witness in themselves; for men that are brought into this state have the most powerful weapon of any to attack their enemies; they have the law and testimony on their side, having been taught out of the law; and the Lord's testimonies, being sure, have made wise such simple ones; and they prove, by this teaching. the everlasting love of God, for they find, if sin could damn them, they have enough to condemn many worlds; they have many times thought they would have their own way, but God has prevented them, and thus they have proved that Jesus was determined to have them, and, in this determination, they see election. "What!" they are ready to exclaim, "not condemn me for all my rebellion?" No," says God, "though your sins are as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; and though red like crimson, they shall be as wool!" These prove that salvation is of grace, that the promise may be sure to all the seed. These find that there is no gate of brass, nor bar of iron but he will cut through; no feeling, however hard, but he can soften; nor no distance but he can bring nigh. These prove that he is their light and life, and find encouragement still to trust and not be afraid. Therefore, they are shut up to know that sweet deliverance which Jesus preaches to his captives, and those open doors to them that are bound; to show the holiness as well as the mercy of God, teaching them not to be high minded, but to fear; to walk in much humility with their God; to see the rock from whence they were hewn, and the hole of the pit from whence they were digged; and when they are made fully ripe for the sickle, he will gather them to himself, to be for ever with him.

The Lord grant us grace to serve him, love and fear him, and to him shall be the glory. Amen.

A SHORT ACCOUNT OF THE DEATH OF W. J. BROOK, MINISTER OF THE GOSPEL.

(Extract of a Letter.)

Dear Friend, I received your letter, and glad was I to do so. I had desired it a long time. I have to say that Mr. C. was in the room when our dear friend departed this life, and he said he heard much about many things that Mr. B. had to say. This day three weeks he called on Mr. B., and he says he was in such a frame that he never saw anything like it. He was going away, but Mr. B. heard him, and bid him come to him; and he told Mr. C. that he felt so much of the glory of God, that if God permitted him to stand up again, which, at that time, he thought he would, his faith was then that he should come forth as Paul, determined to know no man after the flesh; and, though about twelve months before, he said he should shrink up his shoulders at death, yet now it was quite

the reverse. Mr. B. said death was no more to him than going out of one chamber into another, for he knew that all was well.

About half-past three o'clock, he held out his hand for Mr. C. to come to him, and he told him he saw the glory of God which John speaks of in the Revelation; and he repeated, "They rest from their labour; they rest, they rest, they rest!" Mr. C. said these were almost the last words he spoke. Mr. B. said that it was the greatest trial to part with his church. He was sorry to do that, because he had a few poor souls, and the enemy would rejoice, and men would have it their way. A few minutes before his death, he kissed his wife, gave three sighs, and departed in peace. "Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord." He desired to be buried at six o'clock in the morning, and to be carried on men's shoulders, and laid in the vault with his grandfather and grandmother. It does my soul good when I look at the place where he lies, knowing that he is freed from the noise and clamour of this world, and safe is his immortal soul in Abraham's bosom. The feelings I have in my soul I cannot describe, desiring to be partaker of that bliss which he now enjoys. Brighton, Oct. 7, 1811.

D. C.

MRS. DIFFIDENCE AND OLD MR. HONEST.

A MORNING VISIT.

I have had many struggles of mind respecting the propriety of communicating the few following statements for insertion in the Gospel Standard; and it seems scarcely the weight of a feather at this moment that turns the scale in favour of my putting pen to paper. Until to day indeed, my pridė, dressed in the retiring garb of modesty, or, to use John Bunyan's words, "Mrs. Diffidence, the wife of Giant Despair," of cudgelling notoriety, has, by her advice, kept me quite spell-bound; but, awaking this morning rather earlier than usual from repose, I found myself in company with "old Mr. Honest," (a gentleman by no means over fashionable in these days of profession) who, though he did not "cut her" ladyship "down at one blow," so weakened her magic power over my inclination, as to suffer my pen to move thus tremblingly along.

This "Mrs. Diffidence" has indeed been pleading successfully for silence for several days past, on the ground that I ought not to trust myself to speak from "the abundance" of a "heart" that is “ deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked;" and that being my father's eldest son, his "Reuben" naturally, I am "unstable as water," and cannot "excel." Now, this I knew, to my sorrow, was all true; but she never said a word about Reuben's instrumentality in delivering a Joseph from the hands of false brethren, nor did she say that the word Reuben, when interpreted, might mean "the vision of the Son," or "one who sees the Son," much less did she hint a word of what is written in Gen. xlix. 3. O, no; my "instability," and the impossibility of such a wretch ever "excelling," were the cuckoo note, and gag, and hand-cuff, that she employed; though I recollect that brazenfaced "Presumption," some time ago, (hanging is too good for the villain) quoted the verse referred to most glibly, and made me as proud as a freshman at our universities, when he puts on, for the first time, his gown and trencher; as a midshipman when he swaggers with his dirk,

and crown and anchor button, and cocked hat, upon the quarterdeck of a man of war, looks unutterable things, and bawls, with indescribable authority, at the weather-beaten veterans around him; or, to come nearer home, as a Sunday-school teacher at a union or other meeting, when he spouts most magnanimously, and gets a “Hear, hear!” and a clap, clap from some one about to speak after him, who hopes to have these notes of admiration duly reimbursed in return; as a Diotrephes, whether he be a minister, a deacon, or a member in our churches, when he thinks he has a right to the pre-eminence; as a young lady when, having joined a professedly Christian church, she advertises in the magazines and newspapers, and writes herself "decidedly pious;" or as some of the students in our dissenting academies, when, with or without bands, cassocks, and gowns, they are invited to preach (especially for the first time) before a very respectable congregation, and are driven to and from chapel in a carriage or phaeton, and Mr. and Mrs. So and So are exceedingly kind and complimentary, and the footman brushes their hats and coats in the lobby. Yes, Messrs. Editors, pride as contemptible as all this (why, the monster is at my elbow at this very moment) has inflated this heart of mine, and I find him still, though I hate him as the devil, "spoiling all that I perform," and lurking in every fold of this deceitful, treacherous heart. Still do I resemble the mariner sailing through the Straits of Messina, who, (as reported by the ancients,) while attempting to avoid the rock "Scylla," falls into the whirlpool "Charybdis," for presumption and despondency are the extremes to which, even at this moment, I find myself painfully and frequently drawn. At one time I am crying out, O my accursed pride! At another, O my sinful timidity! Then, O my bare-faced effrontery! And anon, O my cowardly diffidence. This is the crooked". 'way of the serpent upon a rock, the way of a ship in the midst of the sea," that "is too wonderful for me," and which, though so long accustomed to it, I must add, with the wise man, "I know not." How giddy, how sick, how wretched, how loathsome it makes one, you and many of your correspondents, and, I believe, your readers too, know full well. I have intimated that old Mr. Honest paid me a visit this morning (I wish he would stay with me all my life long). I mean that the spirit of your magazine and the despised supporters of it powerfully impressed my mind, and urged me thus to venture to unbosom some of the dealings of God with me, and some of the exercises of my tempest-tossed spirit. But before I attempt this, I must be permitted to say, to the praise of the Lord the Spirit, that I have derived more meltings of heart, have shed more tears of sorrow and joy, and have seen and felt more of the love and glory of God the Father, the preciousness of Christ the Redeemer, the grace of the Holy Spirit, the Quickener and Comforter, and of the vileness, vanity, helplessness, and wretchedness of the creature, while perusing some of the pages of the Gospel Standard lately, than I have ever derived from the perusal of all the other periodicals of the day that I have read put together. Why? Because it is the speaking together honestly of those who fear the Lord. Why? Because the heart is painted as it is, and not as article-paid and academy-taught scribblers and preachers falsely declare it to be. Why? Because an unction from the Lord the Spirit rests upon the hearts of many of those who write in it, and induces them to deal faithfully with their own consciences, and with the consciences of their readers. I have been in the habit of taking in another magazine for twenty years, and am now compelled to acknowledge, that from the perusal of all its contents, (with the exception of here and there a piece,) I have risen cold, gapish, unmoved.

carnal, and dead. Why? Because most of its articles, though round, like the prophet's wheels, are destitute of all that makes them of any real use; the Spirit of the Lord is not in them, and I need not tell you that, without this, they will never take a heavy coach along. And, alas! but the truth must be told, the preaching of many of the writers (and I have been among them) is of the same kind; it is pretty, systematic, philosophical, literary, and some of it eloquent, but it is not piercing, vital, savoury; it is more calculated to delude the sinner than to arouse him, to worry and starve the sheep than to restore and feed them, to chill and frighten the lambs than to warm and encourage them. Their congregations, with but very few exceptions, are worldly, carnally secure, yet full of noise, blaze, bustle; are church, chapel, and Sunday-school-building-mad, and are gathering thousands of money, not to propagate the gospel, but to send out young, inexperienced men, just fresh from the academies, without any knowledge of themselves, of the spirituality of God's law, or of the truth as it is in Jesus, to teach what they have never learnt, and to haul unconverted heathens into a nominal fellowship with something falsely called a church of Christ, which ends, and ever will end in such scenes as are now being acted in the South Sea Islands. (Vide "Affecting Intelligence from the South Sea Islands," Evangelical Magazine, July, 1839.) We have been told, Messrs. Editors, again and again, and hundreds of thousands of money have been collected upon the confidence of its truth, that these islands were savingly converted unto God; and now we are informed that "at Raiatea, the most flourishing of all the South Sea mission stations, there are scarcely a hundred people who have not disgraced themselves, and that persons who have made a consistent profession of religion for years have been drawn into the vortex.” This is indeed an "affecting" statement, but it describes what will ever follow in the wake of a ministry where the chaff and the wheat are not described and divided, and where a bastard, mongrel, nondescript something, falsely named the gospel, is poured forth, instead of the living, clear, bealing waters of salvation; for "how can they preach unless they be sent" by a higher and holier commission than that which wings hundreds across the seas? Well might a missionary, sometime since, returned from abroad with disgust, say, "They know not what spirit they are of." But O, it is to be regretted that thousands of places at home are supplied with no better instructors! Never, surely, never was the prayer of the faithful more seasonable, that man would send less, and that "the Lord of the harvest would send more faithful labourers into his harvest." Some of the deliverances, both in providence and grace, that a covenant-keeping and merciful God has wrought for the worm who now addresses you and your readers, shall be unfolded in another communication, should you think fit to give the foregoing an insertion in the Gospel Standard.

Praying that the Spirit of light and life may continually and increasingly be poured out upon you, your correspondents, your readers, and on the church of Christ at large,

I am, dear Sirs, your greatly indebted friend and servant,

THE RUNNING SORE.

EPHRON.

In reading the seventy-seventh Psalm, my mind was arrested with the language and spirit couched therein; for I thought I could read my state there. In the second verse the psalmist says, "In the day

of my trouble I sought the Lord; my sore ran in the night, and ceased not; my soul refused to be comforted." Why, thought I, this is my exact state; if I understand the matter rightly, this sore is the corrupt fountain of an evil heart broken up, or, in other words, a manifestation of its total depraved state by the fall; plainly discovering every faculty thereof felt to be earthly, sensual, and devilish, which no man can know, unless he feels it experimentally. Now the way these running sores are manifested, in my view, is the withdrawal of the sensible presence of God in his communicable attributes of love, mercy, light, faithfulness, and truth, the which being withdrawn for a season, the carnal faculties begin to stir and manifest themselves, proving that they are still in existence and alive, though we might have thought they were dead. But, alas! now it is they break out with double force; and no marvel; for while grace reigned, they were subdued; but now they come forth sometimes in a way of fraud, at others by force, according to the circumstances of the person. If the situation of the person be easy, they will work fraudulently; if adverse, they will work very powerfully. This I have always found to be the case with myself, and always found the white devil worse than the black; and I do believe he is most to be dreaded. O the thousand and thousand times the white devil has befooled me, (I am here speaking of the carnal mind having evil for its object; for I do not believe Satan is one jot or tittle worse than the carnal mind; yea, I think I may, with truth, call it Beelzebub legion, to say the best of it, hell itself,) and, under the mask of sanctity, has drawn me away by degrees, till I have been completely bewildered, and, as it regards feelings, as dead as a post to God and godliness. Then commence perverse disputings, carnal reasonings, God-dishonouring suggestions and language too, soul-distressing thoughts and actions; now enmity is felt, darkness covereth the mind; and then comes night, the black and dark night; and this sore runs with a witness, and ceaseth not. It is then that the soul refuseth to be comforted, nor indeed can it look to God without dreadful apprehensions of divine wrath; then there is rebellion in the soul, all hurry, confusion, clamour, and distress. If I were to tell you what has passed in my mind in this night of trouble, you would say at once that I must be an incarnate devil; and so I am in my carnal mind; and yet I hope I am "all fair" in Jesus. Such language may appear strange to all the whited walls and painted sepulchres, who know not the plague of their heart. So it is writtew of Joshua, the high priest, and of his fellows that sit before him, that they are men wondered at; and is it not a truth in the experience of every believer in Jesus to this day? Yea; and we are a wonder to ourselves, as Mr. Hart has said, under a feeling of our depraved

nature,

"The soul with horror starts;

Shock'd at the sight, we straight cry out,

'Can ever God dwell here?'"

Friends, it is one thing to read, "the carnal mind is enmity against God," but quite another sensibly to feel it is so, and groan under the cruel, hard bondage thereof; it is one thing to read, "the heart is