The Inquiring Meeting

“Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, “Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.”

During one of those seasons of religious attention with which the churches in New England have been visited by the Holy Spirit, I employed a few weeks in the interior of the country. It was the month of August. The early harvest still waved in rich and brown luxuriance over hill and vale, and formed a delightful and welcome contrast to the heated walls, burning pavement, and arid atmosphere of a crowded city. Mountain and river, the vivid verdure and refreshing breezes of a rural sky, the dense, dark forest, with emphasis and sweetest harmony seemed to say, Marvellous are thy works, Lord, God, Almighty, in wisdom hast thou made them all!

There was every thing in the scenery that invited to heavenly contemplation. Why, thought I, are not the dwellers in these tranquil and inviting regions all the devoted children of God? What is there here to allure the soul to fellowship with earth? I knew indeed that human nature is the same every where, and that the same general virtues and vices are to be found in both city and Gountry. But the febrile excitement, the stimulated intercourse, the wealth, luxury and dissipation, the pomps and vanities of the world, the refinements of philosophy, and the gross vices which exert so powerful and melancholy an influence in populous cities, seemed here to have no power. The rural christian is placed in circumstances most favourable to his best moral habits and feelings. His trains and associations of devoted thought seem to spring up and flow spontaneously, like the stream that flows from a fountain of living water. Love to God — communion with God — devotedness to God seem almost natural to such exemption from care, to the solitude of such retirement, to such persuasives to hallowed meditation. I was irresistibly reminded of those beautiful lines of Cowper, —

“Far from the world, O God, I flee,

11 From strife and tumult far;
” From scenes where Satan wages still

“His most successful war.

“The calm retreat, the silent shade,

“With prayer and praise agree;
” And seem by thy sweet bounty made,

“For those that follow thee.”

It was towards the close of the week, and just as the lengthened shadows reminded us that the sun was going down, that we drew near a quiet and lovely village in the county of Berkshire, not far from the luxuriant meadows beautified by the Housatonic river. Every thing was still, except here and there a hurried effort in the field to prepare for the approaching Lord’s day. We alighted at the village Hotel just as the Sun went down. There was a tranquillity — an air of seriousness about the place to which we had not been accustomed even in the best conducted Inns of New England, which led us to congratulate one another in the anticipation of a pleasant Sabbath. And what added not a little to our anticipations, we learned in the course of the evening that our Host was a pious man, and that there was a Revival of Religion in the village of several months standing.

Our expectations in relation to the approaching day were not disappointed. It was the week of the most powerful influence of the Divine Spirit upon the people, and of this week the Sabbath was the crown. I shall never forget the tenderness and solemnity of this day. The unbroken silence of the morning — the quietness and decency of the Inn — the respectful deportment of the servants — the delightful season of family worship, interrupted by no blowing of horns, or arrival and departure of stages — the tears which trickled down the withered cheeks of an elderly lady, more venerable for her piety even than for her years, as we sung, Welcome sweet day of rest — all led us to respond to the sentiments we had just been reading, Surely the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not! As the first bell was ringing for church, I saw the villagers crossing the plain from every direction, and going into the school house. It was a meeting for prayer. It had caught the eye of Mrs. S. before it had caught my own, and she was just descending from her chamber with her bonnet on her arm, to say, Let us not ??iiss the prayer meeting. We hastened across the green and took our seats in a remote corner of the building. It was truly the hour of prayer. Confession, thanksgiving, entreaty — so humble, and yet so confiding — so confiding, and yet so unpresumptuous — so importunate and yet so submissive, distinguished their addresses to the throne, that we could not but feel that it was given them to have power with God. At ten o’clock, the meeting quietly dispersed, and we repaired to the church. We were strangers, and yet no eye seemed to wander but our own. And ours not long. The prayers, the praises, the appearance of assembly, the awful stillness, the deep thoughts and suppressed emotion of the worshippers, told us that it was none other than the house of God and the gate of heaven. I was acquainted with the Pastor, and assisted him in the services of a part of the day. He was one of the staid sons of the Pilgrims — with more sense than sound — and yet knew well how to employ the

“Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.”

His theme was, how can we escape, if we neglect so great salvation? He spake not in the enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and with power. He rose with the sacredness and grandeur of his subject, till it seemed as though he was handling the consciences of his auditory with his fingers. I had always respected and loved him, but never so much as now-It was not the declamation of enthusiasm, but the power of truth. It was logical and yet mingled with ardent and impassioned emotion. When he came to speak of the sinner’s perdition, he wept. And who did not weep? How worthless and insignificant, thought I, are all other interests and claims, when compared with the interests of immortal truth, and the claims of eternity! Such was my old friend the village Pastor. His faithful reproof — his affectionate spirit — his meekness of wisdom — his gentleness and simplicity — his holy zeal and unostentatious love — his devotedness to the cause of truth and the honour of God — these, thought I, are characteristics in the ambassador of Christ which

“Allure to brighter worlds, and lead the way.”

The subject of the afternoon discourse was, And when he beheld the city, he wept over it. Nor could I refrain from saying, with the disciples on the mount, Lord, it is good to be here.

At the close both of the morning and afternoon service, notice was given of a meeting for Prayer in the School House, and a meeting for Religious Inquiry in the Academy, both to be attended in the evening. After church, we accompanied the Pastor and took tea with his family. No sooner were we seated in the parlour, than it was obvious that deep solicitude was felt for the results of this Sabbath, and strong confidence expressed that the gracious Lord had appeared in his glory. Two of the dear children of the family and a female servant had returned from the Sanctuary in deep distress, and with their heads bowed down like a bulrush. The daughter could not suppress her emotions, and exclaimed, O father! how shall I escape? We were all affected, and for several moments, none of us could speak. The mother looked towards me, and I took my seat by the side of her weeping child. After some conversation, the father proposed a little family prayer-meeting, during which, after singing the fifty first Psalm, two prayers were offered with a special view of supplicating the divine presence with the exercises of the approaching evening. While seated at the tea table, I inquired of my friend, “Whether there was anything peculiar in the In-” quiring Meeting, or any peculiarity in his manner “of conducting it? — “No,” said he, “none at all. “The object of the meeting is to give those persons” in the congregation, who feel an interest in the “subject of religion, and who desire it, the oppor-” tunity of conversing with their pastor. But” added he, “you will attend and assist me in the “exercises.”

While Mrs. H. and Mrs. S. went to the prayer-meeting in the School House, Mr. H. and myself and the children went to the Inquiring meeting in the academy. It was a large hall, and was nearly filled. I should judge there were from one hundred and thirty to one hundred and fifty persons present, — chiefly of those who were from sixteen to thirty years of age, together with a few in more advanced years, and a few who were children. All were seated — some with their heads leaning upon the railing of the seats — some in a fixedness of look that seemed to say, God and eternity are near — some with a settled gloom and depression of countenance — some few with marks of indescribable anguish — and some with a serenity and smile, placid and beautiful as the loveliest sky after a storm. I know not what brought the thought to my mind, but I was instinctively led to dwell a moment, in my reflections, upon that beautiful representation in the Apocalypse, And there was a rain bow round about the throne. I felt that God was holy. I could not look upon the splendour of his unveiled glory. But its blazing splendors were all subdued and softened here, like the blended colouring of the rain bow. It seemed to me that I was within the most Holy Place; where I had new views of the God that is invisible, and where, amid all that was solemn and fearful, this well known emblem of his covenant of peace reflected a beauty and splendor so soft and gentle, that even the most guilty and vile might look upon him and live. This, thought I, is that rain of heaven, and these those dews which descend so plentifully upon the mountains of Zion, that the bow of promise completely encircles the throne. The meeting was opened by singing the following hymn:

“Come sacred Spirit from above,

“And fill the coldest heart with love;
” Soften to flesh the flinty stone,

“And let thy god-like power be known,

“Speak, Thou, and from the haughtiest eyes,

“Shall floods of pious sorrow rise;
“While all their glowing souls are born,

“To seek that grace which they now scorn.

“O let a holy flock await,

“Num’rous around thy temple gate,
” Each pressing on with zeal to be

“A living sacrifice to thee!”

While this hymn was singing, I observed several persons drop their heads, and during the short interval of rest between the stanzas, heard now and then a deep sigh, and beheld some in tears. When the hymn was closed, the object of the meeting was briefly stated, and all were requested to kneel and unite in a few words of prayer. After prayer, the Pastor himself together with three other gentlemen who as I supposed were officers of the church, dispersed themselves throughout different parts of the room, and entered into conversation with the individuals who were pre-THE INQUIRING

sent. Here and there were clusters of persons with whom they conversed collectively. The conversation with individuals was sometimes continued two or three minutes, and sometimes elicited no answer. Sometimes it consisted of a single inquiry and an appended observation or two. And sometimes, it continued for eight or ten minutes. So that at the close of the meeting there were none who had not the opportunity of a personal interview with their Pastor, or some one of us who assisted him. The conversation was conducted rather in a low tone of voice, and much as it would have been had the parties been alone in a private parlour. Very much of it I heard, and will now narrate with as much accuracy as I can.

Addressing himself to a middle aged man who sat near us, Do you feel Sir,” inquired the Pastor, “any special interest in the subject of religion?”

“I know not what to say,” was the reply. I do “not feel as I did a few weeks since. I see that “religion is important, and I know that I cannot” be happy without it. The world looks dark to “me. But I am for the most part very uncon-” cerned. I am ignorant, and wish you to instruct “me, and to deal with me plainly and faithfully.”

“Have you ever been sensible/7 continued the Pastor, That you are the enemy of God? Do” you see for yourself that notwithstanding all his “kindness and love, you are still unwilling to for-” sake your sins, and fall in with the method of “mercy by Jesus Christ.”

“I fear, Sir,” said he, “I do not feel this, though il I know it is true. I have no proper conviction” of my sins. My conscience is right, but my “heart is wrong. My conscience tells me that” God would do me no injustice if I should be left “to perish. And yet my heart rises in dreadful” opposition to his justice and sovereignty. I feel “as though I could not submit to such a God.”

“Do you think such feelings are right?” said his Pastor. Would it be right for angels to feel “thus toward the Everblessed God? Would it “be right for saints? Is it right in you?”

“I know it is not right.”

“And will you persist in what you yourself ac- “knowledge to be wrong?”

“I know I am wrong; but what shall I do?”

“O what would you do, but be reconciled to” God? The blessed Saviour, who shed his blood “for you; the Holy Spirit, who is now striving” with you; your own conscience, which now re- “proaches you; all require you to cease from “contending with your Maker. These rebellious “feelings show you what is in your heart. They” show you how unfit you are, with such a spirit, “to enter into the kingdom of God. You must “give them up. Pray, pray for grace to give “them up. They make you miserable here, and” if persevered in, must make you miserable for “ever.”

To a young man who had overheard the previous conversation, the Pastor said, “Can you give me some account of the exercises of your mind, my young friend?”

The youth was for a moment too much affected to speak; when his Pastor, with a tenderness that seemed to forbid reserve, inquired, “When was” your attention first called up to the state of your “own soul?”

“The first thing,” replied the young man, “that “I saw, was at the lecture, the week before last.” I saw that I was a sinner, and in danger of end- “less punishment. When I went home, I deter-” mined to seek religion. I made a solemn promise. “I read the Bible, and prayed several times a day.”

“And have you found the Saviour?”

“No, I cannot find him.”

“And yet he says, Seek, and ye shall find.

“Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast” out. Does it seem to you that Christ is either “unable, or unwilling to save?”

“I will tell you,” replied the young man, “just “how I have felt. The last Sabbath morning,” you preached from these words, The heart is “full of evil. I thought you were personal in” your remarks. You showed me what a wicked “heart I had, and how full of evil it was. I” thought that all the people were looking at me, n and that you where showing them my wicked “heart. And I was displeased and angry. But” when I went home, I was very much distressed. “My mother said nothing to me, and this distress-” ed me more. I overheard her praying for me “in her chamber,”and this distressed me still more. “I went and tried to pray for myself, and I could” not pray, and this distressed me more still. I “felt that I was lost. I thought I should never” find an interest in Christ. It seemed to me that “I was so wicked, I must perish.”

“And how has it been with you, through the “week?”

“Just the same, Sir. When I read the Bible” and try to pray, I feel that God is all the while “angry with me.”

“He is a Holy God, and cannot look on sin.”

THK INQUIRING

“OSir,” replied the young man, “I know I” must perish, unless God take away my obstinate “heart, and give me a heart of flesh.”

“It is indeed so,” replied his Pastor. “Except “a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom” of GodP

“I know it sir, I know it. Never can I enter “into that kingdom, with such a heart.”

“No never /” was the reply; and it was uttered with a tenderness and solemnity with which a father would address a dying child. “And “never, unless God give you up to awful blind-” ness can you be happy any more on earth, with “such a heart.”

“Sometimes,” said the young man, “the thought” crosses my mind, that I had rather go back to “my former stupidity, than remain as I am.”

“O my dear young friend,” said his Pastor, ‘• strive and pray against such thoughts as these. “The adversary would tempt you to such thoughts,” and triumph over his poor, deluded victim, if “he could thus stifle these convictions. He” knows you would gain nothing by going back, “but become ten-fold more the child of Hell than” before. You may get rid of this distress, and “lose these convictions; but believe me, it will” be only for a little while. They will all return.

“either in this world, or another, and in ten-fold” power. And there will be nothing to relieve “them then: — no inviting Saviour — no mercy seat” — no hope of pardon — no mighty healer — no “peace-speaking blood of the cross: — no, nothing” but an angry God, a lost soul, and the most dis- “tressing convictions forever.”

Here, the poor young man looked us both full in the face without uttering a word. The deep lines of sullen dejection were imprinted on his countenance, and he could neither weep nor speak. “O Eternity!” said the Pastor, while a deep sigh involuntarily escaped his bosom. “O Eternity! Eternity!” responded the youth in a whisper, “there will be no end to eternity!” For a moment we were all silent. I could not help taking his hand, and saying with tears, Is there no balm hi Gilead 7 — He wept. “Balm? said he, “balm for my wounded, guilty soul!” — Here, I observed his Pastor weep, while he distinctly uttered the ejaculation, “Lord give us help from trouble /”

“O Sir,” replied the agitated youth, what shall “I do? I have felt all this week as though I hated” God, and would fain flee out of his hands. I “have been so long in this wretched state of mind, “while so many others have been brought in “rejoicing, that it seems to me as though God” meant to give me up. It does no good for “me to read, or pray, so long as God is against ‘me.”

“So long as you are against God,” replied his minister, almost with an air of severity. u God will do you no wrong. He sees you. “He hears you. — And yet he bears with you.” “And then with subdued and tender accents, proceeded, “His love is infinite. Nothing but” his patience and long suffering have kept you “out of hell so long. Nor would he have showed” you thus your guilt and danger, if he were ‘not willing you should come to repentance. He wounds that he may heal. He waits “that he may be gracious. There is bread” enough in your Father’s house, and to spare. ‘• O against what love are you uttering these un- “grateful complaints! If you ever become his” child, you will wonder that you stood out so “long against his love and mercy.”

There was a young lady just behind us, whose countenance wore a very different appearance from that of this unhappy youth. She was peaceful, and yet solemn; joyful, and yet serious. It seemed as though the fountains of consolation were springing up in her mind, and her very visage shone, I had almost said, like the face of Moses, when he came down from the mount.

“I perceive,” Mary, “said her Pastor,” that ‘’your mind is more tranquil, than when I last “saw you.”

She looked up, and smiled. “I have peace,”

said she, “sweet peace — yet I know not what to

“think. I fear I am growing stupid. And yet I

“am happy. I am afraid it is wrong for such

‘” a sinner as I am to feel so happy.”

“What makes you happy?” said her Pastor. “I do not know, said she,” my heart-risings “against God are gone; and yet I have none of “the love I have heard others speak of.”

“Does it appear to you that you are entitled to the promises of the gospel?”

Not that I know of,” she replied. I have

“never asked myself that question. My anxiety is

“gone; my fear is that I have lost my convictions.”

“How,” said her Pastor,” does God appear to

you.”

“How ? — God is love. God is in Christ recon-” ciling sinners unto himself. He is glorious in “holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders.”

“Do you love him?”

With great simplicity she replied,” I think I do “not hate him now. I have been thinking of his” character and government, and love to think or “them. They do not distress me, as they did” once. You know Sir, they used to distress “me. But I can think of him now as a sin-hating” God, without desiring that he should be less holy.

“Mary,” said her Pastor, distinctly, “does God ‘< appear glorious in your eyes for being a sin- “hating, sin-avenging God?”

“He does,” said she, u appear glorious.”

“What do you think of yourself as a sinner, Mary?” inquired her Pastor.

“I have seen my own extreme vileness, Sir, “and see it more and more; and yet I no longer wish to run away from God.”

“And what,” said her Pastor,” do you think of Christ r

She simply answered, “His blood cleanseth “from all sin.”

“And can you not believe in him and receive him “as your own Saviour, and say with Thomas, my Lord and my God!”

“I know if I do not believe in him I must perish.”

“You know too, that God can be just, and “justify every one that believeth. This is the “record, that God hath given us eternal life, and” this life is in his Son. And will you not put “honour upon God, by believing in him whom “he hath sent?’’

“Indeed, Sir, I know not what to say. I do not” think I am a christian. I do not disbelieve, nor “distrust God. Nor am I afraid to commit myself” to the hands of the mighty Saviour. But I do “not know that I am accepted of him. And if” not, I cannot complain. I thought this afternoon “of the Saviour’s love for sinners, and felt that I could say with Job, Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.” And there was so much meekness and humility when she uttered this sentence, that I could not doubt it bespoke her heart.

It was the sister of Mary, who, as I was afterward informed, sat next her. These sisters were two of five children who, within a few weeks had been brought out of darkness into God’s marvellous light. Elisabeth, of whom I am now speaking, was the «lder.

“You expressed some relief from your anxiety,” said her Pastor, “when you were at the meeting last week, Elisabeth.”

“Yes Sir, I had some hope of having made my” peace with God; and I think it is stronger since “I saw you.”

Well, Elisabeth, I will leave my friend to con- “verse with you, while I go to another part of the “room. State your views and feelings to him, with the “same frankness with which you would do to me.”

•; What induces you to believe,” I enquired, that you have experienced a change of heart?”

“My views and desires, Sir. are very different from what they once were.”

“Pardon me for inquiring, in what particulars they are different.”

“In many particulars, Sir, but especially toward •:God. I used to care nothing about God. I scarcely ever thought of him, and felt and acted much” as I would have done were there no God. But now I think of none so much as him. It seems “to me, I see him every where, and every where” enjoy him.

“Are you sure,” said I, “that there is nothing you prefer above God.”

l I will not say I am sure, because it is a very “easy thing for me to be deceived. But if my heart is set on any thing more than God, I do ‘-’• not know what it is. I am sure it is not wealth; “it is not fashion and pleasure; it is not gay so- ciety; it is not fame, nor any earthly good. God •; is more to me than all.”

“But why do you delight so much in God.”

I was struck with her reply, and wished that all the world could have heard it —” Why should

I not delight in him?” —

“And is there nothing in God,” said I, “that •’displeases you? — no part of his character that you “dislike?”

“No, nothing. There is nothing that is wrong. “There is no blemish. God is infinitely lovely,” and he does what is right. There is no reason

II why I, or any body else, should be displeased “with God.” And she said this with so much decision and meekness, that I observed it made a deep impression on several persons who sat near us.

“But,” said I, “did you never, my young friend, u look upon God as a hard master, and upon his “Jaw as a hard and severe law?”

“I used to think so, she replied, when I thought “at all. I used often to try to banish God from” my thoughts. I used to endeavour to reason “away my obligations to him. I used to think” that as I could not make me a new heart, so “until God performed this work for me, I could” not be bound to love him, nor blamed for not “loving him. In this way I used to contend with” God, though I was not sensible of it at the time. “But I have none of these feelings now.”

“You have been a great sinner then, thus to “contend with God.”

“01 have been a great sinner. I am a great sinner still. I know if God should punish me according to my ill-desert, I must perish. And if I should perish, I know it would be just. It would be right — exactly right” Here she wept, and said, “O how wonderful is it, that he should “forgive such a sinner!”

“But how can God forgive? what becomes of his justice?

“Sir, you have told us to day. He so loved the “world that he gave his only begotten Son, that “whosoever believeth in him might not perish, but” have everlasting life. The Lord hath laid on “him the iniquity of us all. He who knew no sin” was made sin for us that we might be made the “righteousness of God in him. I have no hopes” but here.

“But how is this,” said I, “and what do you” understand by it?

“I do not know that I can tell you, Sir. I” am but a child in knowledge and grace. It is a “very precious truth to me, that Jesus died; that” he bore my sins, and that his righteousness in “the judgment of God, is counted as mine.”

“But do you suppose that Christ was a sinner!”

“No; but he bore my sins.”

A And because his righteousness is imputed to “you, do you consider yourself less guilty and “ill-deserving?”

•’•’ In my self, Sir, I am guilty and deserve to “suffer; but in him I hope to be acquitted from;’ the punishment I deserve, because he endured” it for me.

“And how does this method of salvation appear to you?”

u It is just what I need — Christ is my only Sa- “viour. He is a full and complete Saviour. His” cross is my only refuge. O, Sir, I have felt the “worth and tasted the sweetness of the Saviour’s u dying love, and long to tell it to the world.”

“Do you recollect that you were ever displeased” with the doctrines of the Bible, and felt offended “when you heard ministers preach on the subject” of depravity 3 decrees, and election?

“Often, very often. These doctrines were dis-” pleasing to me. They disturbed me. But I do “not complain of them now,”

“Why?”

“I do not know Sir. I cannot say that I understand them. But it appears to me that God has “a right to do what he will with his own. We all deserve to die. He hath mercy on whom he” will have mercy. I know he will do right.

“There is not a sparrow, or a worm,
“But is found in his decrees.”

“I leave all this with God. He is of one mind” and none can turn him, and what his soul “desireth that he doeth.”

“And how do you feel toward God’s people?”

“He loves them, and I love them. Thy people” shall be my people, and thy God my God.

“How do you feel toward the work of God that” is going on in this place?’’

“When it first began, I felt opposed to it. I u thought we should have a gloomy Summer, and” that all my mirth was spoiled. When our dear “father first spoke to us about the revival and about “our own souls, I inwardjy sneered, and thought “all our pleasures were over. But I feel very” differently now. It has been a memorable Sum- “mer to our dear family, and to many precious” souls in this place. It is in my heart to bless “God that I did not leave town, as I thought of” doing, and that I have not been called out of the “world before his blessed Spirit came down.”

“And who has brought you to this state of” mind, and given you this peace and joy in be- “lieving.”

“None but God. His grace, his almighty and “sovereign grace has done it. There was nothing” in me.

“Jesus sought me when a stranger,
“Wandering from the fold of God,”

“I did not take a step till he led me. I withstood him as long as I could.”

“And what if he had left you and taken other sT ‘’It would have been right. I was greatly “comforted under a sermon our Pastor preached” from this text. / thank thee O Father. Lord “of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these u things from the wise and prudent and hast” revealed them unto babes. Even so, Father! for “so it seemed good in thy sight”

:: It is a sweet thought, I replied. It made the “weeping Saviour rejoice in sjririt”

“O had he not pitied the state you were in,

“Your bosoms his love had ne’er felt;” You all would have lived, would have died too in sin,

“And sunk with the load of your guilt.”

“What was there in you that could merit esteem,

“Or give the Creator delight?” ‘Twas Even so Father! you ever must sing,

“Because it seemed good in thy sight.

“Then give all the glory to his holy name,

“To him all the glory belongs; *’ Be yours the high joy still to sound forth his fame,

“And crown him in each of your songs!

I now rejoined the Pastor. He was just taking his seat near an elderly man whose countenance

THE INQUIRING

was unmeaning and inexpressive. What thought I can have induced this man to come to the Inquiring meeting? His Pastor treated him with a great deal of kindness and condescension, and though he was slow to speak, at length elicted the state of his mind in the following conversation.

“I perceive you are growing old rapidly, my “good friend.”

“Yes Sir, I am sixty eight years of age, a very “ignorant man.”

“Have you ever thought much about your
soul?”

“No, Sir, I have not. I have never read the “Bible much. I have not attended church, nor” kept the Sabbath.

“Have you not thought more of the subject” with a few weeks?

“I have been to church of late more than I” used to go, and have been thinking of my sinful “and miserable condition. But I do not know” how to get religion. 1 want to repent and became “a child of God, but do not know how to do it.”

“Does any body prevent your repenting?”

No, Sir.”

“God has done a great deal to lead you to re- “pentance. He has given you the Bible, and you” say, you have neglected it. He has given you “his Sabbaths, and you have neglected these. He” has given you his Son, and you have neglected “him. He has given you time enough to repent, “and though he has long been grieved with “you, yet has he borne with you these sixty years.” What excuse can you have to offer when God “calls you to his bar, why you have not repented?”

“I have no excuse, and yet I do not know how “to repent.”

“Well, I will tell you. Think of your sins.” Reflect upon them deeply. Think how many “they are, and how great they are, and how long” you have sinned. Recollect that they have all “been committed against a Great and Holy God; “a God who has been unspeakably kind to you, “and who has given his Son to die for you; and “be humbled and abased that you are such a “a sinner.”

“O Sir, I know I ought to feel so.”

“Think too, what evil your sins have done, “Reflect upon your exceeding vileness and “terpitude. See how your sins have grieved the “people of God, and injured his cause, and “ruined your own soul, and the souls of others,” and crucified the Lord of glory; and then loathe “and abhor yourself and repent in dust and ashes.”

“Ah me! exclaimed the old man! what a sinner “I am!”

“Forsake your sins, exclaimed his minister, 11 Break off your iniquity by righteousness and “your transgressions by turning to God. And” go with an humble and contrite spirit to the “cross of Christ, and confess all your guilt there,” and ask the God of mercy, if there can be any “hope for you now in this eleventh hour.”

“I wish I could do it. It seems to me 1 “would give the world if I knew how to go to Christ.”

‘•’ I have no doubt you desire to be delivered “from your present burden, you are anxious to “escape from the coming wrath; but if you saw” the plague and vileness of your heart, you would “see that there is no good thing in it, and that the” sweet exercises of genuine repentance you have “never yet desired. Sure I am, that if you truly” wish to repent, there is nothing in the universe “to keep you from repenting.”

While we were listening to this conversation, the attention of the Pastor was turned to a lady in a remote corner of the room. She was past the meridian of life, the mother of several children and much of a gentlewoman in her appearance and mein. One of her daughters was present, who had already expressed the hope of reconciliation to God. I perceived that her Pastor addressed her with familiarity, and as though she had often been at the Inquiring meeting before.

Taking a seat on a bench immediately before her, he said, “Well, madam, I hope you have given “up the controversy, and enjoy peace with God.”

She shook her head, and remained silent.

“Do you feel willing to be left behind, while so “many are pressing into the kingdom?”

She replied, “I do not see that lean do anything “more than I have done.”

“Do you think, that when you come to stand 11 at the bar of God. you will feel that you have “done all that you could?”

“What can I do more?” was her only reply.

“And what have you done?” said her Pastor. “What have you done, except sin against God all “your days? And what are you doing now, when” his Spirit is so tenderly striving with you, except “contending with your Maker?”

“But, sir, I cannot change my own heart. So “the Bible teaches me, and so you have instructed “me often.”

“Pardon me for inquiring,” said the Pastor, “what is the object of this remark? Do you” make it because you see and feel it to be true, or

8 “because you want an excuse for not loving” God? If it is a mere excuse for not giving ‘your heart to God, it behoves you to be satisfied u that it is such an one as God will accept. If it is not such as you yourself are persuaded God “will accept, then do not utter it. Never, never il utter it again. But if it is not because you want “an excuse; if you feel this weighty truth; if uyou are deeply sensible that you are in the “hands of God; if you know that you are so vile, ;! that unless the living God, by the power of his” grace, take from you the heart of stone, and give 11 you a heart of flesh; then do you indeed see “that you are in a lost condition.”

“O sir,” she exclaimed, “I am just this lost “creature! Why did God create me? Why” did he give me existence only to make me mise- “rable?” And she burst into a flood of tears.

There was no small emotion in the room. Every person saw what it was to contend with God. Numbers seemed moved by sympathy; but their ears were open to instruction. The lady continued weeping, while her pastor intreated her no longer to contend with God, and resist that sovereign power which alone could save her from despair.

Just at this moment, an incident took place, the mention of which I may not suppress. The daughter of this lady was present, and had herself, a few days before, found peace and joy in believing. During the previous conversation, unobserved, she had removed from a remote part of the room, and occupied a seat near her mother. She was deeply affected by her mother’s state of mind, and with one arm thrown around her neck, and in a low beseeching tone of voice, said, Dear mother! O the fulness there is in Christ I Come with us to this ocean of mercy /” We were all in tears. We literally turned away to weep.” O Mrs.

M,” said her Pastor,” the blame is on your

“side, and not on God’s. God is right and the “sinner is wrong. That ocean of mercy! Will” you not repair with your children to that ocean “of mercy?”

There was a young lady occupying a seat near the centre of the room, who had gathered around her six or seven others not far from from her own age, with whom she was conversing, though in a subdued and scarcely audible voice.

One of this little cluster I observed wept bitterly. What a group, thought I! How delightful if this little company should all be seeking Jesus! if this youthful loveliness, these honours as they just begin to bloom, should be devoted to him!

82 THE INaUIRING

“Sarah,” said her Pastor, “do you retain your “hope of the divine favour still?”

O sir,” said she, “I have been very happy “since I last saw you. A little while after you “left me, I was again oppressed with a sense of my desperate wickedness. I looked up and saw against what a God I had been sinning all my u life long, and I was oppressed and filled with” shame. O what a God he is! How good! “how lovely! and yet how fearful! These ‘-’- thoughts of God filled my mind with great joy,;’ and it seemed as though I could do nothing but •’admire the excellency and loveliness of God. “God was very near to me. I. could not help “thinking how delightful it was to live in God’s world — to be his creature — to be in his hand — to be his. child — to call him my Father, and to love * and trust him forever.”

“The Bible,” observed her Pastor,” “if I mis- take not, speaks of the glory of God in the face “of Jesus Christ.”

“Yes, sir,” said she,” and Dr. Watts beautifully paraphrases the thought.

“See where it shines in Jesus’ face,
11 The brightest image of his grace,
” God in the person of his Son,
“Hath all his mightiest works outdone.”

“I see an infinite fulness and sufficiency in this “salvation. He is a hiding place from the “storm, a covert from the tempest, as rivers of” water in a dry place, and as the shadow of a “great rock in a weary land. I think I can say,” Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief. But. “sir, these dear friends of mine — I thought I” could certainly persuade them all to come to “Jesus; it seemed to me so easy to come to him,” and so wicked to stay away; and Christ appears “so lovely. But, O sir, I cannot persuade them.” I desire to take them all in my arms and carry “them to Christ.” It seemed as though the young ladies could scarcely refrain from loud weeping. I was waiting to hear what my friend would address to this interesting circle, but he simply repeated the following lines:

“Welcome, welcome, dear Redeemer,
“Welcome to this heart of mine;
“Lord, I make a full surrender,
” Every power and thought be thine:

“Thine intirely,
“Through eternal ages thine.”

There was one person present, who from his appearance, I judged moved in the higher walks of society, and who from his conversation, was a very intelligent man, and not ignorant either of letters, or the world. I afterwards learned that he was a counsellor at law of very respectable standing in his profession, and the father of a numerous family. As we drew near him, he rose and extended his hand to his minister, and remarked;

“Sir, this I presume is as unexpected to you, as ‘-’• to me.”

“It affords me great pleasure,” replied the clergyman, “to meet you here. Are not some of cc your children in the room?”

“One of my sons I saw as I entered the door. •cTwo weeks ago, I should have been not a little “displeased to have known of his being present” at such a place, but I rejoice now to meet him “even here.”

“Your views of religious subjects then are somewhat changed?”

“I was once a confirmed Universal ist, as you “well know, and I really believed that soul-de- ;c stroying system.”

“And what has disturbed you in this belief?”

“Not long after the day of fasting and prayer,” which was set apart by the church about six weeks ago, I had a conversation with my family “physician, who is a sensible and pious man, on” the subject of universalism. After he left me, “there was some inquietude on my mind. I felt” unhappy, I knew not why. I took no pleasure in “the world, and lost my zeal in my profession.”

“Perhaps you feared the doctrine of universal- “ism was not true?”

I cannot say that I feared it was false, or “desired it might be true. I was desirous to see” it as it is, let it be true or false. But, sir, I was “greatly agitated on this subject, and so much so,” that I could not sleep. I took my Bible and “turned to those texts which I had long considered il as a proof of my sentiments; but on carefully” reading and considering them, they did not ap~ “pear so conclusive as they had done.”

“What were your reflections V

“I determined I would be on the safe side;” andaslknew I had no religion, resolved to attend “to it, and to repent and believe on Jesus Christ as 11 the Saviour of lost sinners.”

“Did you find no difficulty in doing this?”

u I thought I could do it; and then if my sentiments concerning the salvation of all men “should not prove true, I should be safe. Accord-K ingly I set about it, but in a few days I relapsed “into my old careless habits. This alarmed “me, and I resolved to enter on the business “again. Again I relapsed into carelessness and” again I resolved to become religious; but to no “better effect than before, until at length, I felt in” some measure my dependence on God to enable “me to keep my resolutions.”

“And what became of your universalism?”

My confidence in it gradually weakened, and “I had much anxiety and concern of mind.”

How did you feel toward those truths of the Bible which stand opposed to universalism, and “which have been so much insisted on during “this season of the outpouring of God’s Spirit.”

“I contended with them, and even more than I was “in the habit of doing when I was a confirmed universalist. The doctrine of the intire deprav- ity of the human heart, the doctrine of divine sovereignty and election appeared hard sayings.”

“Have you become reconciled to these doc- “trines?”

“Permit me to give you a brief narrative.”

“On a particular occasion I was called to a” neighbouring: village. As I was riding alone, “God was pleased so to discover to me my own” heart, that for a considerable time I have no “recollection of any circumstance or object about” me. My attention was so entirely swallowed up by the dreadful discoveries of my own sinfulness, “that I knew of nothing else which passed in my” mind, until at length I found myself miles beyond “the place of my destination, and the shadows of” evening shut in upon me. I found my way to “such lodgings as I could, but could not sleep.” There was a heavy load on my mind. In the “morning I returned home, without attempting to” transact my business, and was unable for several “days to go into my office.”

“Have you found relief? and if you have, how did you find it?”

“I scarcely know how to answer you, because “though I do not feel happy, yet my burden has -•passed away. I found no relief until about ten M days since, when feeling my absolute depen-” dance on the sovereign will of God to dispose of “me as he should see fit, I resigned myself into” his hands, sensible that if he should change my “vile heart I should be saved; but if not, and he “should send me to hell, it would be perfectly just, “and I should see it and know it forever.”

“Have you established the worship of God in “your family?”

“No I have not, but it is my purpose to do so.”

“Will you do it this evening?”

“God helping me, I will.”

I was anxious to hear this conversation continued, but a collection of young men were sitting just behind us to whom I perceived the clergyman was anxious to address himself. He remained standing, and in a tone of voice which all who were near him could hear, said;

“And which of you, my young friends, has any “interest in this great subject? It is a time when” God is drawing near and when it is awfully haz- “ardous to trifle with the concerns of the soul.”

For a moment, there was no reply. At length one of the company said;

“Sir, we wish to obtain religion. “We shall” never have a better time. If we suffer this revi- “val to pass away without becoming the children” of God, we shall probably live and die in our “sins.”

“And have none of you,” said the minister, “reason to believe you have made your peace “with God?”

All replied in the negative except one, and he looked up as though he desired, but durst not give a different answer.

“James,” said the minister, “do you think you “are a christian?”

“My distress is gone, Sir,” he replied, “but I “am afraid I am not a christian. I feel willing” now to be in the hands of God. I know that he “is great and good, holy and gracious, and I am rejoiced that so many are turning to the Lord” and loving him. But I am afraid I do not love “him.”

“James,” replied his pastor, “I hope you will “call and see me to-morrow. And you, my” young friends, I know it is very possible that “you may die as you have lived, without God” and without hope. It is no small matter to en- “ter into the kingdom of heaven. You are sin-” ners, and under the condemnation of God’s holy “law. Already are you doomed to eternal -death,” and unless the execution of this sentence can be “averted, and you can obtain pardon from your” offended God, you must perish. But to obtain “pardoning mercy, you must first see that you” need it. You must see and feel that you are “lost. Lost! lost! lost! O how certainly is the” sinner lost, who is out of Christ! Death may come “and find you lost. And then you cannot escape. u No, you cannot escape the damnation of hell. O 11 what a view is it to look upon such a collection of “youth going down to endless, remediless ruin! Men “and angels might weep over such a scene as this.”

As we turned from this interesting group, and approached a different part of the room, we passed a young lady sobbing almost aloud. The Pastor turned back.

“O Sir,” said she, “I am a poor sinner, going “down to hell.”

“How long,” said the minister, “have you been “in this state of mind?”

“My mind was distressed to day, under the” morning sermon; and my distress increased in “the afternoon. I did not mean to come to this” meeting, nor let any body know how I felt. But “I am undone. I must become reconciled to Godj” or perish. I have been hanging over a preci- “pice all my days, but never saw it until now.”

“And if you see it now, so much the more in-” excusable and guilty will you be, if you do not “escape the gulf.”

“But how can I escape? I would be glad to do “it if I could.”

“My young friend, what prevents your es- “caping, but your own reluctant heart.”

She still wept and we passed on to a young man who I afterwards ascertained was a professor of religion.

“I did not expect to see you at the inquiring “meeting, said the minister.”

“I suppose not, Sir,” replied the young man. “As you well know, I once thought myself a u christian. Nor did I mean, or desire to deceive 11 myself, or be deceived in this hope. But when” God appeared to revive his work among us, I “thought it was a favourable season for me to en- (: ter into the foundation of my hopes, and examine” the ground on which I stood. This thought “was strongly impressed on my mind, especially” for the greater part of the night, and I could not “sleep for fear I was building on the sand. I” then solemnly resolved to give up my confidence, “if I could not find scripture evidence of a change” of heart. And that evidence I cannot find. I “am convinced I have never been born of God.” On thursday evening last at the lecture, my “hope perished.”

This young man was in deep distress. It seemed to me that he saw himself in the gall of bitterness and bonds of iniquity. I could not help saying within myself, The spirit of a man can sustain his infirmity, but a wounded spirit who can bear? “Though I have professed religion,” continued this distressed youth, “almost four “years, yet I just begin to feel that the Bible is” true, that God is in earnest, that I am a lost sin- “ner, and wholly in the hands of a sovereign God.”

Why is it, thought I, that ministers and the

people of God have so much more sympathy for

those who are professedly impenitent, than for the

self-deceived? Are there no solicitudes for the false

professor? no sympathies for those who have a

name that they live, while they are dead? There was a mournful tone and emphasis about every thing this young man spoke, that sunk to my soul. There were great tenderness and sincerity in his manner, and I felt that it was truly an awful thing to have a hope that might perish when God should take away the soul.

“I scarcely know,” said the minister, “how to” address you. It may be just as you say, that “you have been deceived with a false hope. God” often shows his mighty power in undeceiving “the deceived at such a time as this. How kind” is it in him to do so, and at a season when his “Spirit is descending, not only to reclaim the” backslider, and convert the self-hardened, but to “awaken and convince, and convert the self-de-” ceived! Be ever grateful to God, my young “friend, for opening your eyes, and for not leav-” ing you to make this melancholy discovery when “it is forever too late.”

“O sir,” replied he, “I fear it is too late now.”

“Why should you fear this?” replied his Pastor.. “It is never too late, while you have opportunity to repent and believe the gospel. The blessed Saviour invites you now.”

Toward the lower part of the room and near the entrance, sat a man of fine visage, gentlemanly appearance, and, as I should suppose, nearly fifty years of age. As we turned our eyes toward the place where he sat, my friend remarked to me, “The gentleman you see near the door has been a” great opposer of religion. He moves in the higher “orders of society; has groat influence, and a strong” and well cultivated mind. Nothing could have “brought him here this evening but the Spirit of God.” We sat ourselves down beside him, and after a moments pause he himself broke the silence, and as it seemed to me, almost abruptly.

“It is here,” said he, “it is here!”

u What is here?” replied his minister.

“It is here, just as you have preached. I hate” his character; I hate his laws; I hate his govern- ment; I hate his Son. I have always acted “from a sinful heart. I have never done any “thing right. I used to think I had done many “things that were right and acceptable in the” sight of God; but I am all wrong. God is angry “with me, and dooms me to hell. It is impossible” for me ever to be happy. I shall soon be called “to meet death, and stand before God; and I” must perish! It seems to me, that with every “thought, and every breath, I am waxing worse” and worse, and only preparing to sink deeper “into hell.”

How long Sir,” said my friend,” have you been in this unhappy state of mind V

THE INQUIRING

“Sir, it is now three days, and it seems to me I “cannot live. I heard to day that my son is” happy in the hope of the gospel, and this has “greatly distressed me on my own account.”

“And can you not come and accept of mercy? u All things are ready. The Son of man came to u seek and save that which was lost. Why should” you not take the water of life freely 7 God makes “no hard conditions.”

They are hard to me. I feel that I can never “save myself. If God does not take away my “obstinate heart, and make me willing in the day to of his power, I am as certain that I shall sink to hell, as that I am now in this house of prayer.”

‘• I know it is so,” replied the minister, “but is there not hope in that sovereign, omnipotent <■’- grace, when every other hope is fled?”

“There is,” replied the trembling sinner, “hope “no where else. But to my mind, it is awfully” uncertain whether God will ever consent to “make me a vessel of mercy. I am so vile, that f< it seems to me I must be left to perish.”

* I know,” replied his minister, “that it would “be right. God may leave you to be the victim “of your own obduracy. I cannot help you. “No creature can help you you are in God’s hands,”

“Yes,” said he, “as the clay is in the hands of “the potter.”

“Go then, go to his mercy seat and throw your-” self upon his sovereign power and love. Tell “him you deserve to die; but inquire of him,” whether there may not yet be hope? Go in the “name and love of Jesus the Great Mediator.” Go in happy and encouraged dependance on “almighty grace. God says to every convinced” sinner, Let him take hold of my strength and “be at peace with me, and he shall be at peace” with me?

“O Sir,” said he, “pray for me.”

We rose to leave him, and just as we were going, we heard him say, Him that cometh to “me, I will in no wise cast out? “Yes,” answered I, “He is not a man that he should lie, nor” the son of man that he should repent. It is a “faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save” sinners?

I could perceive that he wept. “I have not a word to say, observed he, if he casts me off.” And he wept profusely.

It was now after 9 o’clock, and it was thought best to bring the meeting to a close. I have wept with the afflicted in the chambers of mourning. I

THE INQUIRING

have stood by the couch of the dying sinner. I have passed through scenes where some twenty or thirty of my fellow men were in the agonies of dissolution, and groans, and sighs, and songs of praise mingled with every breath. But never before did I witness such a scene as this. Here were the old and the young, the rich and the poor, the ignorant and the learned, the mother and the daughter, together inquiring what they should do to be saved. Here was the alarmed and awakened sinner, just prepared to suppress the incipient remonstrances of conscience, and return to his wonted security, or lay hold of a premature and delusive hope. Here was the old professor, with all his former confidence shaken and his hopes shivering as though they had been blasted by the tempest. Here were the burdened and convinced, who felt as though their iniquity and their punishment were greater than they could bear, who sat speechless and condemned, while despair and anguish seemed settled on every feature. Here was one whose enmity to God but a few days since was so deep-rooted and implacable, that he seemed almost like a fiend in human form, now clothed in his right mind,” and soft and gentle as a lamb. Here was a circle of young converts into whose bosom light had dawned like the rays of the morning, and who had just begun their everlasting song. And here were others who for weeks had been under deep dejection; who complained that wearisome nights were appointed unto them, and who were still wading through deep waters and thick darkness. I could not but advert to the glory of that scene at Sinai, when the camp of Israel trembled, and even Moses said, / do exceedingly fear and quake. But though it was a time of trembling, it was a time of awful stillness. It was the still small voice which made the prophet “wrap his face in his mantle.” God was there, and in the glory of his existence, power, justice, mercy, sovereignty and faithfulness.

I felt no small degree of solicitude that so solemn a meeting should leave a right impression on every mind present. And while this thought was passing through my mind, my worthy brother rose and made in substance the following appropriate and affecting remarks.

My dear friends, I have been deeply interested in this meeting. I trust we shall all remember it, and carry the remembrance of it to our graves, and to the bar of judgment. God grant that we may all bear it in humble and grateful remembrance, when his ransomed ones come to Mount

9S THE INQUIRING

Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads!

Some of you, I would fondly hope, God has made willing in the day of his power. O what a subject of contemplation to a benevolent mind! To be redeemed from the bondage of sin and receive the adoption of sons; to be plucked as brands out of the fire, and set forth to shine as lights in the world; what a change is this! How immeasurable the goodness of God in making you the subjects of his grace and the heirs of his kingdom! Others are left blinded by the deceitfulness and chained by the depravity of their own hearts, while you are brought out of darkness into God’s marvellous light, and enjoy the liberty of the sons of God. O will you not feel that you are not your own, but bought with a price, and glorify God in your bodies and spirits which are his? “By theix fruits ye shall know them.” God grant that you may hold on, and hold fast, and hold out to the end!

But what shall I say to some persons present? Beloved friends, some of you have never yet seen the plague of your hearts. You are not thoughtless. You are not immersed in the enjoyments of this perishable world. You are afraid of death and eternity and the wrath of God. You have formed solemn resolutions to enter on a new course of life; and you do not as yet see any insuperable difficulty in your way. But my dear friends, you are bound — bound by the cords of sin. Your feet stand on slippery places. It is a very doubtful matter whether you will ever enter into the kingdom of God. You may live through this revival, and become more and more hardened. And you may at last, see many come from the North and the South, the East and the West, and sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of God, and you yourselves cast out. O that my head were waters and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for you who are thus grieving the Holy Spirit of God.

There are some among you also, whom I would fain comfort, but may not, because they stay away from Christ. You feel the burden of your sins, and yet refuse to come to the Saviour. You fear that you are condemned, and well may your fear it. God is angry with the wicked every day. So long as you are out of Christ there is cause for fear. If you die without an interest in his atoning blood, nothing can keep you from everlasting burnings. And who can tell when death will invade your pillow?

Who can tell, but you have well nigh exhausted the divine long-suffering, and may soon be called to give up your account? O consider that you are going down to hell. This night, this hour, turn and live. If you have nothing of your own to plead, see the fulness, the unspeakable fulness of Christ. If you have no good thing, come as you are to Jesus Christ. If you are utterly unworthy, remember it will not make you worthy to stay away from Christ. If you deserve to sink to hell, come and tell him your ill desert; confess it all; throw yourselves at his feet; and cast yourselves upon his free and sovereign grace. Go from this house humbled and repenting sinners. Go silently to your closets. Look not, speak not to creatures, but to Christ. He is the hiding place. He will save you by himself alone, or leave you all to perish. He will have all the glory, or you shall never join the song of his redeemed.

After these remarks, which were listened to with eagerness and tears, we all bowed ourselves before God, in a short prayer, and the exercises of the evening were closed with the following hymn:

11 Come, ye weary, heavy laden,
“Lost and ruin’d by the fall j

If you tarry till you’re better,
“You will never come at all:

“Not the righteous — 11 Sinners Jesus came to call.

“Let not conscience make you linger,

“Nor of fitness fondly dream;
” All the fitness he requireth,

“Is to feel your need of him:
” This he gives you —

“‘Tis the Spirit’s rising beam.

Lo! th’ incarnate God ascended,

“Pleads the merit of his blood;
“Venture on him, venture wholly,

“Let no other trust intrude:
” None but Jesus

“Can do helpless sinners good.”

The last two lines were repeated with a sweet and subdued emphasis, and seemed to reach every heart,

“None but Jesus,

“None but Jesus,

“Can do helpless sinners good.”

I returned to my lodgings, and gave thanks to the Father of lights that I had been permitted to witness such a scene. The meeting for prayer in

the school room, I learned from Mrs. S, was

truly a blessed meeting. The next morning we awoke early, and pursued our journey with emotions we shall not easily forget. We rode over the plain, and began to ascend the hills just as the sun dawned. Whether my mind had become unusually tranquil and elevated by the scenes I had witnessed, or whether some kind and gracious influence moved it at that sweet hour, I cannot tell. But joys that were past were brought back upon my soul, and I was reminded of the hour when I have hoped old things jiassed away, and all things became new, I then saw God in every thing and was happy. So now, every thing around me was full of God — O how full of God! The plain, the village, the distant mountains as I stopped to look back upon them, were delightfully resplendent with the goodness, wisdom and power of their Great Maker. The very light and atmosphere seemed all full of God. My mind was as calm as the soft breezes which fanned the forest, and buoyant as its bending’ foliage. It seemed to me the face of nature was never lighted up with such smiles before. The distant horizon was spread out far as the eye could extend itself, like the bosom of a peaceful lake. Just hovering over its remote verge, was a deep mild cloud, resembling a chain of mountains stretching along for leagues on either side, while in its rear the rising sun shed upward his blushing radiance, every where waking the melody of praise.