We shall deduce from these words, | beautified, either the gold, or the costthe two following propositions for il-ly array of furniture which the Temlustration on the present occasion. ple of Solomon contained. The saI. That the presence of Christ is cred utensils had been carried to the glory of his Church. Babylon, and many of them lost or destroyed. II. That he still glorifies his Church, by dwelling in her with his presence. What is the first but a plain inference from the fact, that the "Spirit of God" has pronounced the second Temple more glorious than the first, notwithstanding that it was deprived of so many of those divine manifestations on which every Israelite prided himself as distinguishing it from those edifices, consecrated by the heathen, to the worship of their idols? Even after it had been beautified by Herod, who spared neither labour nor expense, in rendering it magnificent, almost beyond a parallel, could its splendour or its gold compensate for the loss of that visible presence of the "Holy One" who dwelleth between the Cherubim-or for that voice of "the Almighty" answering from the mercy-seat? It is difficult at this time, to form any adequate idea, of the relative splendour of these two different structures, reared by the piety of the Jews, to the honour of Jehovah. The lowest computation which can be made, with any tolerable degree of accuracy, or consistency with sacred Scripture, reckons the sum expended in the erection of Solomon's Temple to be 60,752,4901. Nor could the amount lavished on the other, as it was afterwards beautified by Herod, have been much less. He, after causing it to be taken down to the foundation, and many new materials added, rebuilt the whole in a most sumptuous manner, and on an enlarged plan. The courts were now for the first time finished; for the poverty of the Jews since the captivity, had prevented them from adding these useful and magnificent appendages to the second temple. There was not however, even when thus But how much soever it was inferior to the first in magnificence, it was greater in glory. Though the presence of God had departed with the Shekinah, and his voice was no more heard from the mercy-seatthough the ark containing the book of the covenant was destroyed, and the spirit of prophecy had departed from the priests who ministered before itthough the sacred fire no more burned on the altar-though in all these divine excellencies it was manifestly inferior; yet in every thing which constitutes the essential glory of a house of God, it was superior to the first Temple. For while in it there were only manifestations of the glory of God, into the second, "the Son of God" himself, having left his ancient abode in heaven, came, and was worshiped; and there they 'beheld his glory, as the glory of the only begotten Son of God, full of grace and truth.’ He came, and from its sacred porches and gates delivered his messages of grace and salvation. "On the last, the great day of the feast (of Tabernacles) he stood and cried, "If any man thirst let him come unto me and drink." Here too, he displayed the power of his Divinity, by healing the sick, curing the lame, and restoring the blind to sight; and by driving thence, those who profaned its sanctity with vile traffic. This it was, which made the glory of the latter house to be greater than that of the former. And, if this coming of Christ added so much to the second Temple, as to make it more glorious than Solomon's, will not a like manifestation be accounted the glory of his Church? Let us view this truth in another point of light. We are always ready to acknowledge the complete and perfect glory of the Church on high But if the saints in heaven are so dependent on the presence of Christ, we believe it to possess every possible degree of brilliancy. Now in what does it consist? There is no how much more this afflicted band of doubt that the purity and holiness of the Church in heaven, constitutes a part of its glory, but this is, by no means, its principal or most essential part. For although it were perfect, her glory would not be complete, without the presence of Jesus Immanuel. Every heart responds to a sentiment like this; "Were I in heaven without my God, followers on earth, who are named after his name! You may imagine a church to possess every excellence, but if you deprive her of this, like a widow clad in the habiliments of wo, she should be continually reminded of her destitute condition. Let her rites be as costly as the gold of Peru, or the diamonds of Golconda-let her ceremonies be as solemn as the stilness of the grave, or the darkness of eternity-let her priests and her Levites be as pure as the falling snow let her members be as uncontaminated as the chaste virgin, and the temples where they worship, resplen 'Twould be no joy to me." Whatever is bright or blissful in those regions of never-ending day, flows from the presence of Jesus. His throne is the fountain of the "river of life;" and the fruits of the "tree of life" are nourished from his fulness.dent with gold, and glittering in the Hence we are told, that there is there richest array of all that is costly and "no need of the light of the sun, nor magnificent, but if Jesus Jehovah of the moon, for the Lord God giv- does not manifest the light of his lifeeth them light." And hence also, giving countenance, she possesses the Angels and Seraphim, standing no true glory. Her ornaments in this around his throne, and feeling the an- condition, however splendid, would imating influence of the rays of his all be borrowed, and like the trapglory, as they burst upon them on pings with which pride loads its votaevery side, exclaim continually, "ho-ries, so far from adding any thing, esly, holy is the Lord God Almighty, sentially detract from her beauty.the whole earth is full of his glory." The Church is not unlike a well formRemove even from heaven the pre-ed and elegant virgin, most beautiful sence of Christ who filleth all in all, and its anthems would cease, its songs be instantly stilled. Instead of those loud rejoicings, which now fill its holy inhabitants with exultation, there would only be silence and sorrow. The reason of this is plain. church, which is his body, is dependent. She can no more exist without her head, than can the members of our natural body, without their head. If therefore, her glory could at any time, be underived and essential to herself, this indissoluble connexion between him as the head, and her as the members of his body, would be destroyed, and she thus cease to be his Church. But this cannot be. To his presence then, who is her life, and her salvation, does she owe her com plete glory. The when clad in her native simplicity, the garments of her Redeemer. Her most interesting attitude is that of her leaning on her beloved. Then her graces, shine most, and her rare and heavenly beauties, like the increasing light of the morning, grow brighter, even while we are pausing to contemplate them. To drop the figure and appeal to facts. When, my christian brethren, do your hearts most expand with joy? When do your souls overflow with gladness? When Jesus manifests his presence in the sanctuary, in giving you peace, and in turning the hearts of sinners to himself; or when with every external advantage attending the word and ordinances, you are still constrained to cry out, "my leanness, my leanness?" We Feeling this truth, my brethren, and knowing at the same time, that the venture to affirm, that notwithstand-breeze. Her frosts and barrenness ing every possible privilege, pos- are now exchanged for the genia sessed by any christian congregation, warmth and fertility of summer, and if there is wanting this one (the pre- while she abounds in fruits she is glosence of Christ,) no spiritually en-rious in our eyes. lightened conscience can be satisfied with its condition. All the ordinances of such a church will necessarily fruits of the church are nourished by be cold and lifeless, and unprofitable; your prayers, in answer to which and all her assemblies destitute of the Christ manifests his presence in the cheering, animating, enlivening in- midst of her, how ardent, humble, and fluences of holy devotion. Instead unceasing should they be! Rememof flourishing she will remain as bar-ber, "the fervent effectual prayer of ren of every fruit of divine grace, as is the bleak mountain summit covered with perpetual snow, of the flowers and fragrance of spring. But let Jesus manifest his presence as "the Sun of righteousness," and his influence is like a summer's sun on a frozen plain-the ice melts away-the bud expands the blossom puts forth its fragrant leaves, and odours and perfumes are wafted abroad on every the righteous man availeth much." No matter how splendid the house which you have built to his name, if Christ dwell not in it, it will be utterly devoid of excellence. But if he hears the voice of your prayers, and comes to make these altars his dwelling place, while he is a wall of fire round about us, he will also be a glory in the midst of us. [Concluded in our next.] MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES. Traits of Primitive Character. "A wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod. An honest man's the noblest work of God POPE. which rests over his last moments; nothing which can shed a gleam of hope over his closed night His set sun sends back no gilding streams of "light after him over the face of the heavens--there is no bright twilight lingering after his descent--on which Several months had now passed our eyes fondly rest. All is darkness, away since the death of the General. distress and horror! Every thing in And his name, and unhappy decease his life, is swallowed up and lost in were already, in a measure, forgotten the wretchedness of the closing even in Hans Van Benschooten's fa- scene. The very mention which is mily. It is thus that we willingly being made of him from time to time, drop out of our mind, and from our and the contrast of his death with heart the memory of the life, and that of devout men of God,-all death of the wicked; while the conspire to combine his memory righteous are had in everlasting re-painful emotions. Hence we seek to memberance. There is nothing over bury it soon in oblivion! the whole extent of the life of an infidel;-nothing the most brilliant in talents, nothing the most successful and useful in politics, nothing of earthly attainment or of happiness, which can dissipate the terrible gloom with Often had Hans compared, in his family circle, before his eager and attentive little flock, the death of the wretched General, with the death of Laidley, Westerlo, Romeyn, and our other fathers, and worthies, the recounting of christian experiences; as well as on those warm and devout exercises which characterised the prayer meetings of this Albany club. The Dominie stood without a rival in the discussion of knotty points, and polemicks. His associates and brethren looked up to him with veneration. His pulpit resounded with the fame of his profound speculations, and beautiful discussions, and unanswerable arguments. He seldom, however, touched on practical points. He made not his appeals to conscience, but to the intellects. He roused not by the terrors of the law, or by the charming promises of the gospel. He even sometimes, gave oblique hints against enthusiasm, and excess of feelings-by which weak minds are apt to be carried away. And he dropt some expressions which made the leading members of the pious club see and feel that he meant to reprove their meetings. They felt at least that he was not friendly to them. whose memories are embalmed in the, of aged and praying people( of which sweetest remembrance of the Dutch club he was an honoured member,) Church, and he never failed to bring that the worthy Dominie was of that tears in the eyes of all present. school who place almost all their reli"And you might have added to the gion mainly in orthodoxy; in high atlist of the holy men, your father's bo- tainments in theological knowledge; som friend-I mean Dominie Condit" and in cold speculation: and who, said Maria Van Benschooten. "Yes moreover, seem to exclude from relitruly," replied Hans to his spouse, gion the ardent feelings of the devout "that was one honest man of God-soul-or to frown on such feelings, and And he died as a man of God from whom the fear, and the bitterness of death had been taken away. It is remarkable that during his life, he was ever timorous, and agitated when he thought of death. But in his last illness, having been told by his physician that he had not a long time to live, he received the intimation with holy Christian courage. He looked with a serene countenance, at his physician, and whispered his kind thanks for his fidelity and attention; he looked at his weeping spouse, and it was dfficult to determine whether affection or sorrow bore sway for a brief space in his soul. At last he felt his hour approaching. He raised himself gently up, lifted up his eyes, and his quivering hands to heaven, and uttered in a solemn tone these last words, "I have fought a good fight-I have finished my course--I have kept the faith---henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness. He leaned back on the pillow; drew the blanket over his pal- But these holy men made no relid face, and expired-full of peace marks. They made no complaints. and the consolations of the Holy They knew that their Dominie was Ghost. This," continued Hans, "is no young. They were sure that he was fiction, I recite it as a matter of fact." wrong. They knew it-they felt it. "Of Dominie Westerlo of pious But the only resentment which they memory," said Annatje, who was sit-displayed, was an increasing degree ting beside Hans, "I have often of earnest and humble pleading at the heard my grandfather Conrad Brinkerhoff, tell an instructive anecdote. When the Dominie arrived from Holland, and entered, soon after that, on his pastoral duties, in Albany; he exhibited a mind, and literary attainments of no ordinary kind. He was also a profound theologian. But it appeared to my grandfather, and the club throne of grace for their Dominie that he might be taught of the Holy Ghost to feel, as well as to understand. Ah! how sweet and powerful is the principle of genuine christian love! Injuries and personal reflections only' afford it fresh opportunities of showing some of its most amiable and fascinating displays. One sabbath the Dominie had uttered an expression more severe than usual. His eyes fell on those of my pious grandfather Conrad Brinkerhoff, as he spoke the words. There was, it seems, more of grief than anger in his soul, on account of the Dominie's rebuke. His eyes certainly sent something of a reproof back to the pastor. For he paused, and was confused. And if there was a look of reproof," said Annatje," it was a reproof prompted by pity and love." Shortly after this, Dominie Westerloo became very uneasy in his mind. He was extremely unhappy. He could get no comfort. He was distressed in his heart: and bowed down to the dust. He wished to conceal it; but this made things grow worse and worse with him. He came over to Conrad Brinkerhoff's: and sat him down between him and his pious lady. 'Conrad,' said he, as he took him by the hand and pressed it, 'I am come to converse with you-and pour out my soul with you, before God.' He then ran briefly over the state of his mind, and described his sentiments and feelings to the aged elder. and for yourself.' Dominic Westerlo looked on him a moment in silence-then said in a solemn voice, Let us pray. They all kneeled down, and such another prayer, Conrad Brinkerhoff used to say, his ears never before did hear; nor has since this ever heard. The Dominie was bathed in tears. And the floor on which he kneeled was wet with his gushing tears. His prayer was heard; and from that time what a preacher Dominie Westerlo became ! And from the time of this change in the mode of his preaching, there was a happy revival of religion. I speak, worthy father," added Annatje, "what you well know to be a matter of truth." "Most true indeed," replied their worthy Dominie, who had entered; and had listened to the last sentences of Annatje's remarks. "That anecdote is authentic, Annatje. It will form an incident in the memoirs of Dominie Westerlo." Hans immediately rose, and laying aside his long pipe, which he had been using with all the solemnity of a Burgomaster; and he greeted the worthy Dominie-and gently chid him for his long absence. But without waiting for his apology-as if conscious that the Dominie, no doubt, had the very best one that could be offered-he was placing a chair for him; and was kindly urging him to be seated. 'I knew it, Dominie,' said Conrad as the tear trickled over his cheekI saw it coming. I remember me well the day when you uttered the harsh expression against our prayer meetings and devout exercises. Ah! Dominie, I did, at that moment, utter in my soul a fervent prayer for you, "No, my worthy friend, time that your Divine Master would open speeds--I am about my Master's buyour eyes, and touch your heart, as siness. I am come to beg your comwith a live coal from off his altar.-pany to the house of Colonel BradAnd at the same moment, believe me, wardine".....And the Dominie looked many besides myself were wrestling to the door, and beckoned on the in like manner, for you at the same youth, who had accompanied him, to Heaven heard us, and come forward. It was little William, you will never find peace, until HE who had wept so bitterly over the bring you just to that which he has death of his father the General. In brought us to.' an instant all crowded around him, to welcome little William under their roof. moment. The Dominie begged the elder, that kneeling down together, he would pray for him. No, verily, Dominie, you shall even pray yourself; for me, "Yes, my maisters; I'm unco glad to see ye a': and especially the vene |