it confirms by the authority of God. The truths it discovers were proclaimed by the Son of God himself, who lay in the bosom of the Father from eternity; who was acquainted with all his counsels, and created all his works. It raises no hopes within, but what are built upon the promise and the oath of Him who cannot lie. In the mystery of Christ's incarnation, who is God as well as man; in the humiliation of his life, and in his death upon the cross, we behold the most stupendous instance of compassion; whilst at the same moment, the law of God received more honour than it could have done by the obedience and death of all his creatures. Mercy and truth are met together, righteousness and peace have kissed each other.' In the dispensation of his grace he has reached so far beyond our highest hopes, that if we love him we may be assured he will freely forgive us all things. Access to God is now open at all times, and from all places; and to such as sincerely ask it, he has promised his Spirit to teach them to pray, and to help their infirmities. The sacrifice of Christ has rendered it just for him to forgive sin; and whenever we are led to repent of and forsake it, even the righteousness of God is declared in our forgiveness. Whilst we contemplate the gospel, consolation pours itself in on every side, and refreshes our inmost souls. It gives us the prospect of our sins being pardoned, our prayers accepted, our very afflictions turned into blessings, and our existence prolonged to an endless duration.

We see Christianity as yet but in its infancy; it has not reached the great ends it is intended to answer, and to which it is constantly advancing. At present it is only as a grain of mustard seed, and seems to bring forth a tender and weakly crop; but be assured it is of God's own righthand planting, and he will never suffer it to perish. It will soon stretch its branches to the river, and its shade to the ends of the earth. The weary will repose themselves under it, the hungry will partake of its fruits, and its leaves will be for the healing of the nations.

"Those who profess the name of Jesus will delight in contemplating the encrease and grandeur of his kingdom, and their expectations will not deceive them. He must reign till he has put all enemies under his feet.' The religion of Jesus is not the religion of one age, or of one nation. It is a train of light first put in motion by God himself, and which will continue to move and to spread, till it has filled the whole earth with its glory. Its blessedness will descend, and its influence will be felt to the latest generations. Uninterrupted in its course, and boundless in its extent, it will not be limited by time or space. The earth is too narrow for the display of its effects, and the accomplishment of its purposes: it points forward to eternity. The great Redeemer will again appear upon the earth, as its judge and ruler; will send forth his angels, and gather his elect from the four winds of heaven. He will

abolish sin and death, will place the righteous for ever in the presence of his God and their God, of his Father and their Father.

"If our religion be such as we have attempted briefly to describe, 'What manner of persons ought we to be in all holy conversation and godliness?' We are conscious that a mere general belief of the christian revelation will not purify the heart, nor regulate the conduct. We may calmly assent to the most interesting and solemn truths of christianity, and afterwards suffer them to slide out of our minds, without leaving any impression behind them. If we look back on the usual course of our feelings, we shall find that we are more influenced by the frequent recurrence of objects, than by their weight and importance; and that habit has more force in forming our characters than our opinions have. The mind naturally takes its tone and complexion from what it habitually contemplates. Hence it is that the world, by continually pressing on our senses and being open to our view, takes so wide a sway in the heart. How then must we correct this influence, and by faith overcome the world, unless we habitually turn our attention to religion and eternity. Let us make them familiar to our minds, and mingle them with the ordinary stream of our thoughts, retiring often from the world, and conversing with God and our own souls. In these solemn moments, nature, and the shifting scenes of it, will retire from our view, and we shall feel ourselves alone with God. We shall walk as

in his sight, we shall stand as it were at his tribunal. Illusions will then vanish apace, and every thing will appear in its true proportion and proper colour. We shall estimate human life, and the worth of it, not by fleeting and momentary sensations, but by the light of serious reflection and steady faith. We shall see little in the past to please, or in the future to flatter; its feverish dreams will subside, and its enchantments be dissolved. It is much however, if faith do not upon such occasions draw aside the veil which rests upon futurity, and cut short the interval of expectation. How often has she borne aloft the spirits of good men, and given them a vision of better days and brighter hopes. They have already entered the rest which remained for them, they have come to an innumerable company of angels, to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to God the judge of all.' From these seasons of retirement and religious meditation, we shall return to the active scenes of life with greater advantage. From the presence of God we shall come forth with our passions more composed, our thoughts better regulated, and our hearts more steady and pure. Let us not imagine that the benefit of such exercises is confined to the moments which are spent in them; for as the air retains the smell, and is filled with the fragrance of leaves which have long been shed; so will these meditations leave a sweet and refreshing influence behind them."

SECTION IV.

A. D. 1788-1790.

THE uneasiness which had manifested itself in the Bristol congregation, continued and encreased for the next two years, with very little hope of returning tranquility. A party was forming in the church, under an unseen and unsuspected influence; the personal friendship of the pastor and assistant was placed in imminent jeopardy, and a crisis seemed rapidly approaching, while Mr. Hall's friends were prepared for any sacrifice rather than give him up.

The Rev. Robert Robinson, a man of preeminent abilities, pastor of the baptist congregation at Cambridge, died in June 1790; and the people being apprised of the misunderstanding existing at Bristol, very naturally expected to find in that quarter a suitable successor. Mr. Hall was requested to pay them a visit, and he went in the following September. After fulfilling this limited engagement, he received a warm and unanimous invitation for the renewal of his services. On his return to Bristol he consulted with his friends, and particularly with his reverend colleague, as to the