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es of men confess themselves guilty of many sins, faults, or failings; some expressing themselves in a stronger, and some in a softer style, according to the greater or lesser degree of the depravation of natural conscience. If there is any meaning then in these words, they must be liable to the displeasure of God in some respects, for which they cannot themselves atone; and must therefore labour under, at least, much uncertainty, as to their acceptance. This must weaken their hands, and slacken their diligence, in an attempt so precarious in its issue.

Perhaps some may say, that this is only levelled against those who deny all satisfaction, or all use of the merit of Christ, but not against those who expect to be justified by their own merit so far as it goes, and trust in their Saviour for making up what is wanting in themselves. But of such I would ask, how they shall be satisfied, that they have gone as far with their own merit as is requisite, if there is any stress to be laid upon it at all? Will they say, as some foolishly do, that they do all in their power, and trust in Christ for supplying what may be still deficient? If they dare resolutely stand to this plea at the last day, when God shall judge the secrets of all hearts, that they have done all in their power, there is really nothing wanting to them; they need no Saviour, they need no pardon. But this is what no mere man that ever lived can say with truth. So that upon any scheme, but an entire reliance on the merits of Christ for justification before God, there must still be a dreadful uncertainty, inconsistent with that liberal and ingenuous freedom with which the children of God love and serve

Being which contains the following words: "What mortals term sin, thou pronouncest to be only error; for moral evil vanishes, in some measure, from before thy more perfect sight."

Ch. Adv.-VOL. X.

him. These, strongly penetrated with a sense of duty and obligation, deeply humbled under a sense of sin, and resting on the perfect atonement made by their Saviour and substitute, serve him with alacrity and pleasure, wearing the bonds of love. And knowing the weakness of their best services while here, they long for that blessed time when they shall be made perfectly holy, and yet shall forever acknowledge themselves indebted, for their place in heaven, and their continuance there, to the grace of God, and the love of their Redeemer.

The other branch of the encouragement which believers in Christ have to diligence in duty, is the promise of the Holy Spirit to lead them into all truth, and guide them to all duty. This promise is expressly made to believers, and their seed after them, in every age of the church, to the end of the world. Thus says the apostle Peter, "And ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost; for the promise is to you, and to your children, and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call."* And it is to this plentiful effusion of the Spirit, that the prophets ascribe the purity and prosperity of the church in the latter days. "For I will pour water upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground: I will pour my Spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thine offspring, and they shall spring up as among the grass, as willows by the watercourses."t

I am sensible, that the nature and form of the argument doth not permit me at once to suppose the truth of this, and to make use of the direct agency and effectual operation of the Spirit of God to prove the holiness of saints. But

it

may be easily made appear, that the belief and persuasion of this *Acts ii. 38, 39.

G

t Isa. xliv. 3, 4.

must have the strongest influence in animating their own endeavours. What more proper for such a purpose than the belief of an almighty aid, certainly to be exerted in their behalf? Must not this invigorate their powers, and preserve them from sinking through fear of the number and strength of their adversaries? Nothing but ignorance of themselves can make them boast of their own strength. The result of experience in the study of holiness, must be a humbling conviction of the force of temptation, and strength of passion on the one hand, and the weakness and feebleness of human reason and resolution on the other. Must it not then be of the greatest advantage to believers, to be under an habitual persuasion of the presence and operation of the Spirit of God, to sanctify them. wholly? Without this the attempt would be altogether vain; but this makes the exhortation come with peculiar force and energy, "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God that worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure."*

(To be continued.)

TRANSLATION OF THE LATIN ODE IN

OUR NOVEMBER NUMBER.

This Ode, which we extracted from the Christian Observer, is translated into English verse, in the September Number of that distinguished periodical. The Editor intimates that no less than six translations had been sent him. Of these he doubtless selected that which, taken altogether, he thought the best; and for a time we expected to transfer it to our pages. But we have recently been favoured with the following translation made in this city; which, on a careful comparison, we are grati

"Phil. ii. 12, 13.

fied to say, we think quite as good as that in the Observer.-There are a few imperfect rhymes in both translations. It would seem that the Ode was designed as a Christian's address to his Saviour, in reference first to death, then to the conflicts of life, and finally to the hope of heaven.

Though borne from out his once dear
home,
And festering in the loathsome tomb,
Bound by the shroud that wraps the dead,
The grave-stone pressing on his head;
Yet, if to wake him thou appear,
Thy mandate, he, though dead, will hear.
But speak the word, the massy stone
Is rolled away, the bandage gone.
He coming forth, knows no delay,
He rises as in second birth
But starting from his bed of clay,
At thy resistless word-"Come forth!"
O'er this wide ocean, in full view,
Fell pirates do my bark pursue;
On that, the boisterous waves invade;
And all around, and every where,
Grim death and sorrow pale appear.
Come, goodly pilot, come to me,
Suppress the winds, and calm the sea;
Nor let me be the pirate's sport,
But safe conduct me to the port.
My barren fig-tree destitute
(Though clothed with leaves) of pleasant
fruit,

On this side an assault is made,

Will be cut down, fit food for fire,
If what is due, thou should'st require.
O may'st thou for another year,
This fruitless tree in mercy spare;
And dig around it, and manure,
If haply this will fruit procure.
But if nor yet it make return,
With tears I say it-it shall burn.
Man's ancient foe, without control,
Now rages in my inmost soul.
His helpless victim he by turns
Plunges in floods, in flames he burns.
Afflicted then, on thee alone,
Am I with all my sorrows thrown.
That far from me this foe be driven,
That strength may to the weak be given,
O grant the power of humble prayer,
Of abstinence, a goodly share.
For by these two, O Christ, through thee
I from mine enemy am free.
Let not my soul be thus enchained,
But give me penitence unfeigned.
Give holy fear, which sent before
I'll think on danger now no more.
Give faith, give hope, give charity,
Give singleness of heart to me.
Give me to spurn things here below,
Rank weeds that in corruption grow.
O give desire for things above,
On Heaven alone to fix my love.

In thee my hope I solely place,
Thou author of unbounded grace.
When numerous cares this heart would
rend,

To thee alone I suppliant bend.
Thou art my praise, my chiefest good,
My all thy gift, most gracious God!
Solace in toil thou dost afford,
A healing med'cine is thy word.
My cheering lyre in grief art thou,
In wrath, the smoother of my brow.
My feet from straits thou dost recall,
And kindly raisest when I fall.
A sober awe thou dost impart
To my too much elated heart.
And when life's ills bedim the day,
Thou giv'st to hope a livelier ray.
For wrongs thy justice makes amends,
And from the threatening foe defends.
What doubtful is, thou dost reveal,
And coverest what I should conceal.
O never suffer me to go

To the accurs'd abodes of woe,
Where sorrow dwells with shuddering fear,
Where loathsomeness and tears appear;
Where deeds of vice are open laid,
And wrath falls on the guilty head.
Where none the torturer can avoid,
And where the worm is never cloyed.
Where countless woes are ever found,
And hell is an eternal round.
May Sion's hill receive my soul,
Sion of joy and comfort full.
City of David, peaceful, bright,
Whose founder is the source of light.

Whose portals with the cross are hung, Whose keys are holy Peter's tongue. Whose happy citizens enjoy

The bliss of heaven without alloy.
Whose walls are of the living stone,
Whose guardian is the mighty One.
There light ineffable doth shine,
There's spring unfading, peace benign;
There breathing odours heaven fill,
There rolls the festive musick still.
There foul corruption cannot dwell,
Nor sorrow's voice is heard to swell:
Where none are sick, none are deformed,
But all are unto Christ conformed.
A heavenly city, bless'd abode,
Rock-founded by Almighty God.
Fair city, which can never fail,
I bid thee, though at distance, hail!
Yes! thee I hail, for thee I sigh,
O could I to thy walls draw nigh!
There bliss doth God his people give,
Wrapt in what ecstasy they live!
What rapture of the soul is there,
What gems upon thy walls appear,
What jacinth and chalcedon too,
What sapphire of the purest blue,—
"Tis theirs alone with joy to see
Who, ever blest, still dwell in thee.
O there may I, joined hand in hand,
With God's elect, his chosen band,
With Moses and Elias sing
The praises of the eternal King.
Philada. Jan. 10.

Miscellaneous.

SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF REV. JACOB

GREEN, A. M.

(Continued from page 13.) In June, 1747, I was married to Miss Anna Strong, of Brookhaven, on Long Island. With her I lived above nine years, and had four children. She died of a consumption, in November, 1756. In October, 1757, I was married to Miss Elizabeth Pierson, my present wife.

When I came to have a family, I found the cares of the world get greater hold of me than was agreeable. I was always, in principle, opposed to ministers of the gospel involving themselves with the world, and hoped to shun it myself -but I was brought into difficulties. I had but little in the world,

J. H.

the congregation I served was then small, and had not been used to give much salary; and the wants of a family called for some supply, beyond my means to furnish it. In these circumstances I was obliged to take more worldly cares and business on me than I would have chosen; and I was encouraged to do so by the most religious and intelligent people of my congregation. They told me that country congregations could not have ministers, unless ministers would take some care to provide for, and help to support, their own families. Still I attended but little to worldly concerns for the first twelve years of my ministry. I know indeed that I was too much encumbered with the world, and

the things of it; but in this time I kept clear of worldly schemes and entanglements. I barely supported my family, without increasing my property to any amount worth naming: and in these twelve years, I chiefly attended to my studies and ministerial duties, in my poor manner. I had some success in my ministry; yet not much was apparent; and I had many sinking discouragements at times, but still went forward in a pretty uniform

manner.

After I had lived thus about twelve years, and found my family increasing, and my people not able, or not disposed, to give me much assistance, in providing for those dependent on me, I thought it right, in such circumstances, to form some schemes, and take some more pains than I had hitherto taken, to get something beforehand, and that my children might have something. I say I then thought this right; but whether I judged right or wrong, I say not yet. When I entered upon worldly schemes, I found them in general a plague, a vexation, and a snare. If I somewhat increased my worldly estate, I also increased sorrow, and incurred blame, in all things except the practice of physick.*

The subject of this sketch continued the practice of physick for near thirty years; and then, finding it inconvenient on account of his advanced age, he encouraged an able young physician to settle near him, and gradually retired from practice, till the whole fell into the hands of his young friend. His charges for medical services were always moderate; and he often united, at the bed-side, and in the family of the sick, the duties of the physician, and the minister of the gospel-With this, as he states, his parishioners were well pleased; and he has been heard to remark, that his pulpit services were never interfered with, in any manner that was embarrassing, by his professional calls as a physician. It was no unusual thing, at and before his time, for ministers of the gospel to be also physicians. The Rev. Jonathan Dickinson, of Elizabethtown, N. J., the first President of New Jersey College, was a practising physician of emi

I had thorns in the flesh, and much fault found with me-which troubles were very justly laid upon me by a holy God; but I have never yet seen that they were just from my fellow creatures, who blamed and injured me. The methods I took to help myself for a worldly maintenance, were chiefly threebuilding a grist mill-buying land when it was cheap, or at a moderate price-and the practice of physick. The last the practice of physick-never drew my heart and affections from divine things, like other worldly cares. It never seemed ensnaring or hurtful to my spiritual interests, as the world, in other respects, often did: and I would recommend it to ministers for a subsistence, rather than almost any other worldly scheme.

There were no considerable special appearances of religion among the people of my charge, during my ministry, except twice,* once

nence; and the Episcopal clergyman of the same place, and at the same time, (it is believed his name was Vaughan) was also a physician. The Rev. Dr. Wilson, of Lewistown, Delaware, at a still later period, was distinguished as a physician. Happily, the assistance now afforded to feeble congregations, in the support of their pastors, by missionary societies, renders the union of two laborious professions, less necessary than once it was. But if a worldly occupation must be resorted to, the writer believes, with the subject of this memoir, that the medical art is the best-the most congenial in its nature, and affording, in its exercise, many opportunities for the performance of important ministerial duty.-EDIT.

*This, it is to be noted, was written in 1777, and the writer died in May, 1790. During the time that he lived, after penning this sketch, there were occasionally hopeful additions made to his church, but nothing that could be called a general revival of religion, till the year 1790. Then his ministry was apparently more blest than it had previously ever been; and he died in the midst of the gathering in of the greatest harvest of souls, that he had ever been instrumental in leading to the Saviour. It was indeed a glorious revival of religion-a work silent, deep, and effectual. The editor was called from his home and charge in Philadelphia, to see his fa

in the year 1764, the other in the year 1774. It began in those years, but continued considerably in the next following year, in both instances. In the year 1764, there was a remarkable revival in several parts of the land, especially on the east end of Long Island, and in several contiguous places. We had a small part of the divine shower on our congregation, but not equal to some in neighbouring places. With us there was a general attention to divine things, and there were many under great concern of mind about their eternal interests; there were a number of hopeful conversions, and considerable additions were made to the church. But the revival in 1774 was more remarkable among us. Religion seemed, for a time, to take all before it. I believe it was nearly as much among us as in any of the neighbouring places. Although many who had been under concern of mind lost their religious impressions, yet those who appeared to meet with a real

change, continued to live and act in a Christian manner. If there were any instances of declension or apostacy, they were few. In two or three years, however, religion came to be as usual, with this difference, that there was now a greater number of persons than before the revival, who appeared to be of a religious character.

As to myself, through the whole of my ministry I had many elevations and depressions-times of great fear, darkness and discouragement, and other times of more light, hope and courage. Besides what was common, there were three or four times, when I met with something more than ordinary. The first was when I lost my wife in 1756. I was for a twelvemonth after that event remarkably stirred up, quickened and engaged. I prayed and preached with an increased sense of divine things. I set myself to visit my people by course, mentioning on the Sabbath what families I would visit on particular days of the following week. I took much pains in many ways, ther die. But he was dead and buried be- for which I would thank God; for fore the place of his residence could be reached. The scene was highly interestI would give him the glory of exing and affecting. Numbers reproached citing and quickening me. Yet I themselves that they had not opened the perceived no more success at that state of their minds to their deceased pas- time than at others, or in common. tor, before he was taken from them. Thirty anxious individuals, who were People liked and approved what I pressing into the kingdom of God, came did, and seemed to be glad of it; to converse with the editor in one day; but I thought it remarkable that I and these were but the gleanings of the could not perceive that they had harvest. Yet this glorious work of grace any more affection for me, or reahad been so silently carried on, that a minister of the gospel, only nine miles disdiness to help me out of the worldtant, told the present writer, that he had ly difficulties, in which the exnever heard that there was a revival of penses of my family had involved religion in that congregation, till he went to attend the funeral of the deceased pasme-and in general I thought them Another tor. The people of this congregation had pretty neglectful of me. been thoroughly indoctrinated. Their time was in 1764 and 1765, when pastor divided his charge into four sec- there was a revival of religion as tions, in one of which he catechised and beforementioned. I had a small conversed with the youth every week, so as to go through the congregation in a part of that shower of blessing. I month. The consequence was, that the was not only abundant in preachspecial outpouring of the Holy Spirit on ing, which I could not have well this people, did indeed "come down like avoided when people had such an rain on the mown grass; as showers that water the earth." There was no noise, no ear to hear, but I was stirred up ostentation, but converts were numerous, to seek after opportunities to speak and the fruits of righteousness abundant. to my people in private, and was

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