access he has gained to the human heart, and the knowledge of its tendencies which he has acquired, enables him to raise prejudices against the new power that would dispossess himself, and to misrepresent it as incompatible with freedom and happiness. Deluded by the deceitfulness of sin and the wiles of the devil, the sinner repels the proposed remedy as an attack upon his liberty, an imputation upon his character, and a foe to his peace. That this is no exaggeration, we may learn from St. Paul, in 2 Cor. iv. 4: "In whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ should shine unto them."

If, then, the, present character and condition of the human mind be such as we have described, the gospel faithfully presented to it, and enforced by divine power, must produce conflict. The conflict may be avoided by not urging the demand for repentance; but then the remedy fails, and the soul is lost. Persevere in urging it, and conflict must ensue. It is a necessary condition of the progress and success of Christianity, both in the individual soul and in our world at large.

For a confirmation of this, look to the case of Him who is both the author and embodiment of Christianity-the Saviour himself. He presented himself to those who of all men should have been prejudiced in His favour. He exhibited to them a character absolutely perfect in all the attractions of goodness. Enmity could discover no flaw. His judges acquitted him of blame. His whole life had been spent in self-exhausting labours for their welfare. Yet because he asserted the claims of God upon the rebellious heart of man, and laboured to restore man to Him, he was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; they hid their faces from him; they esteemed him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. Christianity and conflict, then, are not incongruous terms. In our world they must be associated, and hence there are so many passages of holy writ which represent the Christian life as a warfare, a struggle, a fight.

We have thus far noticed the conflict which arises when divine truth is fairly brought into contact with the perverted mind of man. As the regenerating power of God's Spirit urges on this work, the strife increases until the great victory is won, and God is again enthroned within the heart. But the conflict has not then ended. That which is born of the flesh is subjugated, but not destroyed. That which is born of the Spirit rules, but subject to the continual opposition of the flesh. Joshua has possession of the promised inheritance, but the Canaanite is still in the land. St. Paul's description in Romans vii. of this conflict, both in its origin and continuance, is well known, and what Christian heart has not felt painfully its truth? The calm and cheerful tone in which he makes up his mind for the perpetual struggle is worthy

of notice, and may form the basis of the following hints and suggestions:-" So then with my mind I serve the law of God, but with the flesh the law of sin." We must not now go forth to view this conflict in the world at large, but confine ourselves to its progress in the inner life of the Christian.

1. The first suggestion may well be that the Christian believer should clearly understand and daily remember the nature of this conflict in which he is engaged. Let him never forget its origin. The strong man armed once kept his palace, and his goods were in peace; but a stronger than he came upon him, and overcoming him, took from him all his armour wherein he trusted, and divided his spoils. (Luke xi. 21.) This grand conflict decided the everlasting destiny of the soul. To keep under "the old man and his deeds," thus vanquished and spoiled by the power of Christ, is the Christian's task for life. He should lay it down, then, as an axion, that the victor and the vanquished may never fraternize. That which is born of the flesh is flesh." It may not be conciliated, educated and improved, it is to be "crucified with its affections and lusts." Let him not be astounded or depressed, if, after years of experience and successful progress, he find sinful thoughts and emotious of the most hateful kind uprising within and struggling for the ascendancy. Let him consider that the antagonistic principle remains unchanged in nature, varying only in strength, and will yield only to superior force. Cato is said to have commenced his speeches in the Roman seuate with the words, "Delenda est Carthago," Carthage must be destroyed. "The sin that dwelleth in him" is the Christian's Carthage, ever to be thus remembered. And this resolution will become the more strong and determined, if he remember also the ever watchful enmity of the secret mover of his heart's evil. If Satan never lays aside his purpose, so neither may the Christian. "He that endureth to the end, the same shall be saved." It may be that forgetfulness of this has lain at the root of many a failure and many a discomfort in the Christian's inner life.

2. Heartily engaged in this conflict, the Christian will find it of great importance to use diligently that practical wisdom which we call common sense. It would seem that Christians sometimes regard common sense as a worldly thing, of too low an origin, too undignified, to be associated with fervent piety. It would fare better with them if they esteemed it more highly, and used it more frequently. Is it not, after all, that "right judgment in all things" for which one of our Collects teaches us to pray? The right and successful application of the doctrines, precepts, and promises of God's word depends very much on this, and many, for want of it, wound themselves with truths meant for their healing and comfort. May May we adduce from the thirteenth Chapter of the Book of Judges an exemplification of the thing, and its advantage?

"We shall surely die, because we have seen God," said the terrified Manoah, after he had seen the angel ascend in the flame. But the good sense of his pious wife suggested a truer and a happier influence. "If the Lord were pleased to kill us, he would not have received our offering, nor told us such things as these."

3. Following out this line of thought, we may further suggest the necessity for calmness and temper in the Christian conflict.

success.

In other conflicts, these qualities are regarded as essential to They are equally needful in this. Ask how a duellist would fare, were he to lose his calmness and composure in the face of his antagonist. The skill with which his adversary wields the gleaming steel causes him indeed great anxiety. Perhaps he is conscious of a wound and the loss of blood. But does he allow a feeling of irritation to arise within his mind? He knows too well the advantage it would give his foe, and the speed with which he would seize it. But the Christian under trials and provocations too often acts otherwise, yielding to irritation and peevishness, which weaken himself, encourage the enemy, and dishonour the Master under whose standard he fights.

Let him especially guard against one form of this evil which is of common occurrence, and yet hardly acknowledged to be an evil -vexation. The Christian sometimes thinks as Jonah did, that he does well to be angry. The proplict, disappointed at the state of things in Nineveh, was evidently nursing the feeling of vexation as if it were a virtue: but this delusive sentiment was rebuked by the merciful Creator. The Christian, too, sometimes cherishes vexation under a similar misapprehension. His vexation, however, more frequently arises from the discovery of some fault or weakness in himself. He thinks that he is pleasing God, and improving his mind, by allowing it to be perturbed and agitated by indignant feelings against himself, the absence of which he would regard as apathy. He has omitted some duty, been guilty of forgetfulness, made some annoying mistake, or yielded to some temptation which might have been easily resisted, and he is vexed, irritated, and gloomy. He thinks, by chafing and fretting at his folly and weakness, that he shall vindicate God's law, and repel the enemy; but he is mistaken. Vexation, though it has come to him in the garb of zeal for God and holiness, is an enemy after all, and has more of self-righteousness than of humility beneath its cloak. Is not, then, a sound judgment needful to discriminate in such cases? Godly sorrow-that is, generous grief because an act, a word, or thought is displeasing to God, and a hinderance to spiritual progress-is most scriptural and profitable to the soul. Self-loathing on this account is even commended: "I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." But vexation materially differs in this. It has an element of pride and self-regard in its composition which betrays its carnal origin. It is not the sighing of the contrite heart, but the murmur of a disappointed one; and

as in Jonah's case, it is more ready to complain against God's arrangements, or His non-interference, than to accept of chastisement at His hands. Its effects tend to confirm this view of it; for it inflames rather than relieves the wound.

4. Other practical suggestions for carrying on this conflict successfully present themselves; but we must select only one more. This also has reference to an error of judgment, from which great discouragement and suffering often arise in the minds of Christians. Every Christian knows and feels how unreasonable and how wrong it is to entertain any suspicions as to the truth and certainty of those promises which stand recorded in God's holy word. Of their reality he ought to feel no doubt, nor of the willingness of his Heavenly Father to fulfil them in his case. But he is not so certain as to the reality of God's work within his own heart. There is, no doubt, greater room for uncertainty and doubt here; and the tempter takes terrible advantage of this weak point. And here, as vexation did in the preceding case, so doubt and despondency put on the garb of piety, and affect to be a holy dread of presumption and self-confidence. Deceived by it, the Christian ceases to fight, and only "beats the air; " or fights unsuccessfully with an enfeebled mind. Nay, he even fights the battle of the enemy against himself, so subtle is the delusion.

Let us suppose a case. A Christian has been unwatchful, and in a moment when he was off his guard, a temptation has surprised him. He struggled feebly with only half a heart, and he has been overcome. He is conscious of it, he condemns himself. He is thoroughly ashamed. Or it may be that the temptation was not sudden, and its approach may even have been connived at. This of course increases the sense of guilt and shame. Now if he be not very watchful, this self-abhorrence will be turned by his evil heart and his subtle adversary into a fresh temptation. He will be moved to deny or doubt the regenerating work of God's Holy Spirit within his heart. Whether or not such a work has been commenced in the heart, is a question that should be discussed and determined, like any other great question, in a time of calmness and composure of mind; not now, when strong feelings and violent perturbation impede the judgment. But this advantage has been given to the enemy by the Christian's unfaithfulness, and it will not be allowed to slip away. "Can you," it will be whispered to his dejected spirit-" Can you be a child of God, who have so grievously and so frequently fallen? Can it be a new heart which is so fitful and weak? Did you not disregard the warnings of conscience, and resist the remonstrances of the Spirit of God? Did you not even presume upon the belief and expectation that though you sinned, you would be pardoned and restored? If the new heart can thus incline and thus act, wherein does it differ from the old? How can you, then, with the consciousness of all this depravity and insincerity, believe yourself

to have been born again, or venture as a child of God to the throne of grace? You have mistaken your spiritual condition. Regeneration is not what you have supposed it to be. You must try some other course, or give the matter up as hopeless." If these insinuations are not repelled, the Christian will soon find himself in the hands of giant Despair. And how little of conflict there is in Doubting Castle, that wonderful allegory plainly shows.

What, then, is the remedy? Precisely the opposite to what the tempter suggests. Let the Christian remember that there are two principles within his renewed heart; and that he must not confound the subtle action of that which is born of the flesh, with the aims and operations of that which is born of the Spirit. Let him take comfort and encouragement from the words of the apostle," Now if I do that I would not, it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me." Grieve, indeed, that the new nature is so weak and so imperfectly developed; but weaken it not still more either by denying its existence, or by imputing to it the acts of "the old man which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts." The new man needs your sympathy, your confidence, your prayers. I have sinned, you may say, with tears. I am inexcusable, ungrateful, unworthy to be a soldier of the cross. But I am not an enemy to it, and I have no sympathy with the enemy. I acknowledge my unfaithfulness; but I will not therefore mistrust the faithfulness of Him who has called me to be a soldier. Neither will I cast away my hope that He has begun, and will perfect, the good work within me. I will plead with Him against myself. I will cry, "Strengthen, O God, the thing that thou hast wrought in me." And though at present I sit in darkness, I will pray, "Bring my soul out of prison, that I may give thanks unto thy name." I see that it is not unbelief and despair, but faith and hope, that must restore and save my soul. And I will wait until He have mercy upon me; until "the joy of the Lord shall be again my strength."

P.

BROAD CHURCH THEOLOGY.

Essays and Reviews. London: Parker and Son, 1860.

THIS is probably the quietest, most modest, and most unpretending title-page which our readers ever saw. We have copied the whole of it. Not a syllable is added, either to explain the purport of the volume, or to indicate the writer or writers. But for this modesty there is a reason: in this singular quietness there is a purpose, as we shall hereafter show.