ence and obey for ourselves, we long to see reverenced and obeyed by all the world.

This, then, is the next element of devoutness, for which our Lord has provided utterance in the prayer which he has taught us:-zeal for God's glory.

Now, this feeling so pervaded the heart of Jesus himself, and he knew it to be one of so absorbing a character in all God's children, that not only has he placed the expression of it foremost in the prayer, but he has supplied for that expression-notwithstanding the exceeding brevity of the whole composition-not less than three separate sentences, or rather a threefold outlet for the inward rush of feeling. For in the feebleness of language, and its utter inadequacy to express the more intense emotions, this is the only expedient to which men can have recourse, to piece out, as it were, the scantiness of the material employed; to make up for the insufficiency of one form of utterance by the addition of another, and another, which together may supply the symbol, if not the perfect picture of our inward mind; and indicate the length and breadth of those emotions which we would fain give full expression to. "Hallowed be thy name," exclaims the Christian to his heavenly Father; "Thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven!"

For these several sentences, with whatever shades of meaning, are all expressive of that one same feeling, the zeal for God's glory. "His name," that is, his character and reputation in the world, we desire may be "hallowed," or counted holy; reverently thought of, honoured, and extolled. Even as when Jesus said to his Father, "I have glorified thee on the earth," he adds, "I have manifested thy name unto the men which thou gavest me." That is, thy glorious perfections, thy essential character of holy love, I have made known to my disciples, till they have learned to honour and to love thee as their Father and their Friend. And how dear such a gathering of all men's suffrages for our heavenly Father-such an exaltation of his character for universal adoration-is to the devoted heart, we see both in the grateful declaration of the Psalmist, "I will declare thy name unto my brethren; in the midst of the congregation will I sing praise unto thee;" and in the exulting chant of the assembled angels, our elder brethren, in heaven, when they exclaim, "Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name? for thou only art holy; for all nations shall come and worship before thee."

But the Christian's zeal for God's glory is expressible with still more force by that peculiar phrase which was always in the mouth of every Jew, and which, therefore, our Lord adopts into his prayer,"Thy kingdom come!" God was the King of Israel. Among that favoured people he had begun to manifest himself; and from them, as from a centre, he had promised that his glory should radiate and diffuse itself around, till it embraced within its splendour all the earth. "The Lord," says the prophet Zechariah, "shall be king over all the earth: in that day shall there be one Lord, and his name one." "The God of heaven," says the prophet Daniel, "shall set up a kingdom which shall never be destroyed; and the kingdom shall not be left to other people, but it shall break in pieces and consume all those kingdoms, and it shall stand for ever." And for this kingdom, therefore, God's people looked. The very thought of it was dear to every zealous Jew. The Rabbins declare, that "any one prayer which includes not in it a petition for the coming of this kingdom, does not deserve the name of a prayer at all." And in the synagogue-worship, in that solemn form of supplication which is called the kaddish, or the holy offering, this forms the foremost clause: " May God's great name be magnified and sanctified in the world; and may he make his kingdom to prevail. May his redemption blossom forth;

and may the Messiah speedily come to liberate his people."

Yet, mixed up with the very intensity of this zeal for the universal reign of God, and even affecting seriously the sense in which the phrase, "Thy kingdom come" was used, there was in many a mind too low and earthly, too selfish and worldly a feeling of national pride, and a desire of national triumph. The image of a king, and of his kingdom, which was used by God in condescension to our infirmities, to express by an analogy, well known to all men, the authority and dominion which even now he exercises, but will ultimately manifest in all its clearness; this very imagery itself too often clogged the grand and pure idea with earthly incrustations; and men could not think intensely of God's kingdom, without diverging into the desire for those unspiritual concomitants, that vain pomp and glory of this world, which to human power pertain. And therefore, both to rectify this dangerous mistake, the seeds of which lie deep in even the holiest heart, and to indicate at once and clearly what the better and more spiritual emotions of the child of God do really point to, in the midst of all disturbing forces, to bring out the one single pure idea of God's name being hallowed and his kingdom coming, which alone adequately responds to the yearnings of a genuine zeal for his glory;-our blessed Lord has supplied us with another form for its expression, which corrects whatever of wrong may cleave to the conceptions indicated by those former phrases, and intensifies whatever in them is right: "Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven." For this desire it is which really lives and breathes in the pious heart, that God's will the moral sovereignty of our heavenly Fathermay be not only universally, but spiritually, made triumphant. It would little satisfy the holy soul, that God's name should be reverenced and adored; it would little come up to its most genuine and deepest aspirations, that his authority should be acknowledged, and that the incense of a prostrate worship should ascend to him from every clime, unless his will-his moral law-should find a shrine in every mind, and be written, not in tables of stone, but in fleshy tables of the heart; unless this will should be made by men their own; unless, from the spontaneous operation of a new and living principle within them, they should not merely submit to God, but go along with God; unless his Spirit should be put within them, and he himself should dwell in them, and walk in them; and he should put his law into their inward parts, and write it in their hearts, and they should teach no more every man his neighbour, and every man his brother, saying, Know the Lord; but all should know him, from the least of them unto the greatest of them: for all outward law is but the temporary substitute for inward principle; and the sovereignty of God has then first reached its absoluteness when it no longer works upon his people from without, but works within them as the impulse of their own self-moving will. This is the way God's name was hallowed, and his kingdom came, in Jesus himself, the Son of God. His meat was to do his Father's will, and to finish his work; and what things soever the Father did, these also did the Son likewise. This is the way God's name is hallowed and his kingdom comes among the elder brethren of God's family, the unfallen saints in light who serve around his throne. Thus hath the Lord "prepared his throne in the heavens, and his kingdom ruleth over all." His angels that excel in strength do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word. His hosts are ministers of his that do his pleasure:

"As bright as flame, as swift as wind,
His ministers heaven's palace fill,
To have their several tasks assign'd,
All proud to do their Sovereign's will."

And therefore this is the way that Christ instructs his people to desire the hallowing of God's name, and the

coming of his kingdom, summing up all their petitions for God's sovereignty, and pouring forth all their zeal for his glory, in that purely spiritual supplication, unclogged by metaphor, unsensualised by any images derived from this world, "Thy will be done:"-be it done throughout the earth: be it done throughout the earth, even as it is already done in heaven: with all the fidelity, with all the spontaneousness, with all the fervour of unlimited accordance, with which the hosts of heaven are swift to do thy will.

Dear Christian reader, is this your desire? Does this imperfect exposition of our Saviour's words express the inmost, dearest feeling of your soul? Then see now the encouragement you have to cherish such a zeal, and utter it in daily supplication before God.

This you will understand, if you consider that the feeling which trembles in your own heart is but the resonance of the purpose of your God. His honour is dear to him even as it is to you; his authority he is jealous of even as you are; his will he has determined to make, in his own time, the will the one sole will, beating in all as one pulse from one heart-of all the world.

The end for which you are zealous is already fulfilled in heaven; it has been there fulfilled from the beginning of time. There God's name is hallowed by the chant of thousand times ten thousand who surround his throne; and his will is done in every slightest act, in every nascent thought, of thrones, dominions, principalities, and powers, who stand before him. And this will was once fulfilled on earth; yes, even on earth, this solid, visible, material earth, on which we live and move. In the bright unclouded morning of creation, when God rested from his work that he had made, and God saw every thing that he had made, and beheld it was very good, then was there celebrated one blest Sabbath of uninterrupted adoration. Earth, sea, and air, were organised according to his perfect purpose. The living beings of every kind, with which they teemed, breathed only in accordance with his will. Man, godlike man, fresh sprung from his Creator's hand, and glowing with the splendour of his Creator's image, walked and communed with his eternal Father. The morning stars sang together, and the sons of God shouted for joy; and the divine Wisdom rejoiced in the habitable parts of the earth, and her delights were with the sons of men. grand idea of God was realised, and heaven was copied out on earth.

The

And what has been shall be again. Yea, though that fair scene was so soon marred by sin, and that divine image was defaced, and that commerce with the skies was interrupted, and the presence of the Lord was lost; and now for centuries, yea tens of centuries, the name of God has been dishonoured, and his kingdom disturbed, and his will not done on earth as it is done in heaven,-yet shall he, the Almighty, be for ever frustrated in his purpose? Shall he, the All-gracious, be kept out of blessing his creation? Shall he, the All-wise, who knows the end from the beginning, be disappointed of that end? Shall he, the All-actuating, who worketh all things after the counsel of his own will, be let and hindered in the realising of that counsel? No; the very nature of God forbids the thought; the promises of God forbid it; the actual workings of God forbid it. All give us the assurance of another Sabbath of this world; all tell us, that the evil which has overspread it is but accidental, temporary, nay and subordinated to the higher purposes of the Almighty. All engage to us that God's honour shall be celebrated, God's authority shall be recognised, God's will shall be done, on earth. On earth it shall be done, even as it is done in heaven. That idea which is realised already in the heavenly regions, which began to be realised upon this earth, but which now is counted little better than a pious fancy, a devout imagination,—just that idea shall nevertheless be

realised again throughout the universal world. I say, God's very nature encourages us to look for this; for he has made nothing in vain : he cannot deny himself: The Lord of Hosts hath purposed, who shall disannul it? His hand is stretched out, who shall turn it back? The counsel of the Lord standeth for ever; the thoughts of his heart to all generations. He is in one mind, who can turn him? And what his soul desireth, even that he doeth."

And I say, God's promises encourage you to look for this. You know how various, how copious, how dear, how sure they are. It were vain to attempt to lay them out before you here. From the beginning of Genesis to the end of Revelation, this is written in the book of God,-that Satan shall at last be bruised under our feet; and the holy city, new Jerusalem, shall come down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband; and the tabernacle of God shall be with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.

But most of all, I say, God's actual workings encourage us to look for this; for these are the alreadycommenced accomplishment of his purpose-the anticipation and the pledge of the fulfilment of his promises. With the very fall he began the restoration. With the very intrusion of sin he struck the first blow against sin. With the very first act of rebellion against his will he made provision for the ultimate crushing of all rebellion, and the triumph of that will. And these workings have gone on, through each successive generation, from Adam to the patriarchs, and from the patriarchs to Moses, and from Moses to the kings, and priests, and prophets of the Jewish commonwealth, onward to the grand Restorer, the Messiah, the Christ, the King himself; who came as man to prepare the way for his coming as God; who suffered, and bled, and died, that he might ultimately reign triumphant; who offered himself once to bear the sins of many, that to those who look for him he may appear the second time without sin unto salvation. Christian, he who taught you these inspiring petitions is himself the pledge that those petitions, in all the length, and breadth, and depth, and height of the desire which they express, shall be fulfilled. He who teaches us to pray, and that with fervent daily importunity, "Thy kingdom come," he himself shall come in the glory of that kingdom, when" the kingdoms of this world shall become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign for ever and ever."

What then, in the mean time, are we who use these supplications to do? What is the spirit, the practical disposition, in which the longing for God's kingdom, therein expressed, should manifest itself? It is, first, a spirit of personal preparation for that desired kingdom; for who can long and pray for the hallowing of God's name, and the doing of his will, and not be labouring to accomplish in his own person his own desires? All prayer is nothing but self-delusion or hypocrisy, which re-acts not on the worshipper, and prompts him not to work out that which he has prayed for. And therefore to this personal preparation for the wished-for kingdom did our Lord so frequently direct the minds of his disciples; as when he said, "Watch, therefore, for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come;" and when he gave them parable after parable, of the virgins, of the talents, of the sheep and goats, to lead them not merely to look out for, but to hasten towards-not merely to be anxious, but also to be ready, for the kingdom of God. O, how often do we long for that kingdom, and how little do we anticipate it in our hearts! The very things we long for, (so far as our personal happiness is concerned,) what will they be but the exercise of habitual delight in God, submissiveness to God, adoration of God, and similarity of disposition, purpose, act, with God? But all

and as soon as the topsails were rehoisted, and the ship hove-to, this was done. The whole of that and the next day were spent in getting her into any thing like a condition to proceed; and still, much remained to be done. Nevertheless, the rest of the convoy were not to be neglected. I, therefore, was left in charge, with orders to make the best of my way after; and the commodore proceeded under easy sail to look for the remainder.

The next day the weather was thick and squally; and a similar night closed in without any thing being in sight. Daylight, however, discovered to us a vessel on the weather-beam, which, it was reasonably hoped, might be one of our companions; but a glance through the telescope undeceived us, as the stranger was a schooner; and although her hull was not yet visible, the cut and size of her sails indicated that she was no patient plodder of the sea, but one that could make fleet work of it when her occasions called. I confess that, upon a careful survey of her with the glass, there was an anxious and uneasy kind of qualm passed through my mind; in short, I had serious misgivings relative to her real character.

The captain of the vessel of which I was thus left in charge was a shrewd, sensible, and resolute seaman : he had several times looked at her, as had two gentlemen, passengers, whom, with a lady and her servant, the news of the stranger had gathered together on the quarter-deck.

"She is a slaver," said the captain. "No; she is a man-of-war!" said one of the gentlemen. "She is neither," said I; "she is a pirate;" for at that moment I observed her change her course, and edge away towards us, and caught a glimpse of her long, low, black hull, pierced with six ports of a side, as she rose on the crest of the sea which bounded

the horizon.

For some time we kept our wind, in the hope of falling-in with some of the convoy, if not the commodore. This, however, proving vain, and the schooner nearing us very fast, I ordered the colours to be hoisted to see what she professed to be. A large Spanish ensign soon streamed from her peak, and a pendant from her mast-head; and still she kept edging down upon us. She might be, I thought, a Spanish cruiser; but if so, what can she want with an English merchantman ? "Haul down the ensign, and let him see we wish to part company." "He's not for parting company before we're better acquainted, and have smelt his powder," said old Owen Williams, a quarter-master, and one of the seven men left with me to refit the vessel, who had stood for some time eyeing her with indignant suspicion. A column of smoke, and the report of a gun from the schooner, proved the truth of his words; at the same time, the colours she had shewn were hauled down, and my worst fears were confirmed.

We were now by our reckoning about eighty or ninety miles from the coast of South America, with a strong casterly wind. Immediately under our lee dangerous reef of rocks stretched itself seaward from the coast; but to keep by the wind would be to throw ourselves into the jaws of fellows who act upon the principle, that" dead men tell no tales."

Brief was the council held upon this trying occasion, and desperate the resolution that was taken. Even

the females, appalling as the prospect was, declared for the risk of shipwreck rather than fall into the hands of these sea-monsters. Our crew, including my men and the passengers, numbered eighteen : one twelve-pound cannonade was the only gun we could muster; but there were several muskets, pistols, and cutlasses. With this slender force, as compared with that of the schooner, fighting was out of the question, except as a last resource.

The best point of sailing with our bluff-built vessel was right before the wind. Accordingly, it was determined to take this advantage, and endeavour to lengthen the chase, so that it might be dark before the schooner came up with us; or if that could not be accomplished, to run the ship ashore, and make the best escape we could. In a very few minutes the old ship was before the wind, staggering along under every stitch of canvass that could stand.

No sooner was this movement noticed by the stranger, than he gave us a significant token of his disapproval of it, by yawing and firing another gun, the report of which came groaning along the breeze, which had now considerably freshened; and the fastrising clouds to windward still portended an increase.

The shot dropped harmless under the counter, which told how rapidly the pirate had gained on us. Our only gun was by this time got aft, in the hope that a lucky shot might disable his spars or sails, and thus give us a little more time; for night was fast approaching. Never shall I forget the countenance of old Owen, as, with the cool and steady precision which marks a well-trained seaman, be squinted along the gun to take aim. He waited long and patiently; for the motion was great, and the object small. At length, just as the schooner rose to the sea, he applied the match

"Rung the report-the iron flew,

And prov'd the tar a marksman true;" for her main-boom was wounded, rendering the mainsail useless; the squaresail came down by the run, the haulyards being shot away; and as she steered more wildly after, we believed the wheel must have been injured. However, our end was answered; and a hearty "Bravo, old boy," was echoed by many voices. Again and again she fired; but, although within half gun-shot, did not strike us; and whilst, from her superior sailing she still gained upon us a little, the hope was encouraged that we might yet escape.

Night was just succeeding the short tropic twilight, and we were congratulating ourselves upon losing sight of our greedy pursuer, when the appalling cry of "Breakers ahead!" rang with death-like peal through the ship. All eyes were instantly fixed in that direction, and too truly convinced of the dreadful fact. With the desperate energy of men fully alive to the danger which threatened them, all hands worked speedily but coolly to shorten sail, and haul the ship to the wind. This done, brought the headmost breakers on the lee-beam, and with that circumstance, the only hope left, that of weathering them. The breeze was strong, and the sea rather heavy, yet still the good old ship made considerable headway, and our hopes brightened.

So signal an interposition of Providence could not but force itself upon every one; and many a rugged

heart, bursting with gratitude, ran over at the eye, confessing that we owed our present preservation only to Him, "who rides upon the whirlwind and directs the storm." Had we discovered the breakers sooner, our lynx-eyed enemy would have seen us alter our course, and soon been alongside of us. Had it been one quarter of an hour later, we could not have hauled up in time to weather the shoals, and must, humanly speaking, have gone ashore and been dashed to pieces. Years have passed since then; but that schooner and those breakers are as palpable to my mind's eye as ever, and will, I trust, continue so, to quicken my sluggish heart in the remembrance, that God's people are his peculiar care; that their extremity is his opportunity; and that the arm of a gracious and almighty Saviour will be surely put forth to help his sinking disciples, when no other arm has power to reach or

save.

We stretched on until midnight, when the wind slackening, we tacked to increase our offing, anxiously looking out, lest the schooner should again intercept

us.

The long-looked-for day at length dawned, and keenly was the horizon swept in search of her; she was nowhere visible to seaward: but among the breakers, on the middle of the reef to leeward, we discovered our late dreaded enemy, a miserable wreck; a small part only of the hull was above water, but the long tapering masts were still standing, as if to enable us to recognise her.

As the weather was now more moderate, we ran down towards the reef, hove to, and sent a boat as near as the heavy breakers would permit, to see if haply any of those who so lately peopled the ill-fated vessel might yet be struggling for existence; but, alas! there was not one. The crashing of the waves, impatient of the obstructing rocks, and the noise of the rending planks, and the wild screeching of the seabirds, were the only sounds that met the ear: we looked and listened in vain for a signal or cry of distress; the only things we got near were, three small empty spirit-casks, which had most likely been thrown overboard before, or just as she had struck. There was no mark on either from which to learn the name of the vessel. Whilst we stopped, the masts were carried away, and she bilged and went down in deep

water.

The breeze began now to freshen, which warned us to hoist up the boat, and make all sail off. When this was done, the people appeared deeply affected by what we had lately witnessed; and I felt that it would be unpardonable to neglect such an opportunity of pointing out to them the evil nature of sin, the steps by which men are led on from one wickedness to another, so that murder and rapine are hardly considered crimes;-that in all probability there were many of those unhappy creatures so suddenly summoned to their account, who would, in early life, have shuddered at the thought of any flagrant sin; but Satan led them on so imperceptibly to themselves, after first tempting to some (so-called) trifling offence, until at length they became exposed to the dreadful penalty of outraged laws both human and divine. I bid them

see in this circumstance an illustration of the truth of God, that "evil shall slay the wicked;" and that "the wicked is snared in the works of his own hands;" and

also besought them to remember, though their poor bodies were now covered with the hissing surf, that when the archangel's trumpet should rouse them from their watery bed-if they were found unwashed in the Redeemer's precious blood, uncovered with his robe of righteousness,-they would be consigned, by the unerring Judge of quick and dead, to the place of wretchedness and woe, where the undying flame of God's wrath will hiss around and scorch their souls throughout eternity. I have good cause to hope that God blessed the circumstances and the words to some of those who saw and heard them. Reader, may the recounting of them be blessed to you; and to God shall be the praise and the glory.

W. S.

THE GIFTS OF GOD IN NATURE AND
GRACE.

BY MISS M. A. S. BARBER.

No. V. The Spirit of Adoption.

"COME, eat of my bread," saith Wisdom; " for by me thy days shall be multiplied, and the years of thy life shall be increased." 66 Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding.... length of days is in her right hand, and in her left band riches and honour." "For thou, O God, hast heard my vows," saith the Psalmist; "thou wilt prolong the king's life, and his years as many generations." "To die," says the Christian apostle, " is gain;" "to depart, and be with Christ, is far better." "We are confident, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord." Whence comes it that death bath laid aside those terrors, from which of old even wise and holy men drew back with dread? Witness also the prayer of David; "He weakened my strength in the way; he shortened my days: I said, O my God, take me not away in the midst of my days; thy years are throughout all generations." And the lamentation of Hezekiah, "Mine age is departed and removed from me, as a shepherd's tent... he will cut me off with pining sickness.... I did mourn as a dove-mine eyes fail with looking upward." Whence is it? because the covering which was cast over all people, and the veil that was spread over all nations, has been removed, according to the promise of God; and a more perfect revelation having been made of the mercy and love of God towards man, and of the means whereby the purposes of that love are accomplished, the believer in Christ is restored to the place which was lost by the fall, and made by grace what Adam was by nature-the son of God. "Men fear death," says Lord Bacon, 66 children fear going into the dark :" in both, the fear arises from an unknown and uncomprehended danger; but when he who thus shrinks from death becomes convinced, that immediately it takes place, an immortality of happiness is begun, and that the soul will not only be instantly sensible of the presence of his almighty Creator, but find in him a Friend,-surely he will then cease to fear it, as the child would cease to tremble in the dark, if it held fast by the hand of its father. It is not asserted that this is the experience of every Christian, as it is impossible to say how far, either in life or death, nature may prevail over grace; but it is, without doubt, the spirit of Christianity. Is not death constantly described in the Christian covenant as a desirable exchange-a passing into rest-a happy entering into a Father's house? Has not the Gospel a triumphant song, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?"

as

But this peace and triumph arise from the new relationship into which it has pleased God to admit man-a relationship explained to our mortal under