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her energies to supply their wants, by the aid of the voluntary offerings of real charity, instead of by the compulsory tax of poor-rates, as heretofore.

The new poor-law and union-workhouse system has been objected to as prejudicial to both the Church and the poor, by destroying that endearing bond of respect and affection which has ever existed between the

pastor and the poor of his flock. The parochial clergyman has very properly been regarded as the leader, guide, and dispenser of that true Christian charity, which has an equal reference to the necessities of both the body and soul. And as the ministry of that pastor will be found very defective, which neglects the temporal wants of his people, so will any system established for the relief of the poor be objectionable which tends to lessen the obligation of the clergyman to attend to the temporal wants of his people. It will be found that the gain of a public and legal provision for the poor will but ill compensate for the loss of the private and voluntary offerings and kindnesses of the truly charitable, dispensed under the influence of a Gospel ministry.

Such, however, is not the character of the new legislative measure for the relief of the poor: so far from checking the bounty of private charity, its very success depends upon its increase; all that it aims to decrease, is the burden of a compulsory provision. Hence private benefactors, and the benevolent who are actively engaged in the promotion of works of charity, are the most valuable coadjutors to the administrators of the new poor-law. And should pure benevolence increase and abound as it should in this Christian country, it will very shortly provide for all the necessities of the deserving poor: then their reasonable complaints will cease, and contentment and gratitude will take the place of murmurings and discontent, and once more union and peace and goodwill will be restored between the different classes of society.

Many reasons unite to make our union-workhouses wholly unfit asylums for the deserving: the distance at which they are placed from most of the parishes with which they are connected, removes their inmates far from their homes and from all that ought to be dear in social life-friends and neighbours; and above all, it removes them from the watchful eye of their pastor, whose happiest employment must always be to administer to the wants of the poor of his flock by influencing the best feelings of the rich in their favour.

In my intercourse with the inmates of the workhouse, as their chaplain, I have always endeavoured to keep up the feelings of endearment for home, and especially of respect and attachment to the clergy of their respective parishes; as it appears very desirable that the poor should continue to regard in the office of their clergyman the person of their friend. It will be pleasing for the clergy to know, that I have always heard their visits to the workhouse spoken of with gratitude by their poor parishioners; and I trust by such occasional visits of kindness such a feeling may long be preserved.

Because the poor-laws do not achieve all that might be expected or wished by many, let it not be supposed that they are of little benefit; since by them the state has taken upon itself the charge of the most difficult part of the work-to provide for the undeserving, the slothful, and the vicious. The work which the state has left to be done by the voluntary exertions of the charitable is comparatively light and easy; for so the charge and management of the deserving poor is, when compared to the others. The division of labour which the new poor-laws ought to make, should also be considered as lessening the burden to each; as "when Moses chose able men out of all Israel," to assist him in judging the people-" the hard causes they brought unto Moses, but every small matter they judged themselves." In other words, let the hard

causes be brought unto the board of guardians, but let every small matter be provided for by private charity. Such a division would very greatly aid the administration of the new poor-laws, and be a considerable benefit to the poor, as the distress of the deserving would be relieved in a much more desirable way than at present.

DRUNKENNESS.*

THERE is no case so truly and awfully deplorable as that of a confirmed and habitual drunkard. A prey to the worst passions of our fallen nature, lust and anger, he is hurried onward to the commission of the most dreadful crimes, at which humanity shudders; without the power of asking himself, "What am I doing?" Nay, should a friendly hand be interposed to snatch him as " a brand out of the fire," and arrest his mad career, he resents it as the intrusion of an enemy; and is ready to vent his fury, like some injured savage of the forest, on this new assailant. The voice of persuasion and remonstrance are alike lost upon him; he is "like the deaf adder, that stoppeth her ear, and will not hearken to the voice of charmers, charming never so wisely" (Ps. lviii. 4, 5). The only hope that remains for this miserable and degraded creature is, that when at length he comes to himself, and is able to reflect upon the folly and madness of his conduct, he will be ashamed of such criminal excesses, by which he is sunk below the level of the beast, and will no longer indulge his vicious propensity. But, alas! this hope, reasonable as it may appear, has too often proved deceitful. The very nature of the poisonous draught produces a craving appetite for more; and when once the habit of indulgence has been formed, the greatest uneasiness is felt in the want of it; so that the deluded sufferer by his own misconduct will rather undergo the severest penalties, and risk all the dreadful consequences of intemperance, than be without that cordial so grateful to his present feelings, and now become, in his mistaken idea, almost necessary to his existence. Not that it is absolutely impossible to reclaim the drunkard; many happy instances are on record of the contrary; but the great difficulty, and we may add the improbability, of its being accomplished, when once the habit has been formed, and the moral character become thereby depraved, should impress on us the importance, in the first place, of removing and lessening the temptations to the commission of this vice; and, secondly, of putting difficulties in the way of practising it; so that, if we cannot banish intemperance from the land, and drive it out of the country entirely, the evil may be at least so limited and circumscribed as to hide its head in darkness and obscurity, instead of stalking through the length and breadth of the land, as at present, with a bold and unblushing face, even at broad noon-day.

Drunkenness is, indeed, the curse of this country, the pest of society, the peculiar disgrace and stain of Englishmen, which has brought shame upon us as a nation, and made us the scorn and reproach of foreigners, who have beheld with surprise and abhorrence the gross extent to which this vice has become common and habitual amongst us,-from the crowded

From "The Claims of Christian Philanthropy," &c. &c. By Robert Whytehead, B.A., late Incumbent of St. Peter's, Ipswich. London: Simpkin, Marshall, and Co., 1839, pp. 258. The Essay to which the first prize was awarded by the Philanthropic Society, Dec. 20, 1838.-The Essay, in the terms of the prospectus, consists of four sections: National religious education the imperative duty of a Christian government-Inordinate competition in trade and worldly pursuits productive of cruelty to animals-The baneful effects of intemperance, &c. - The design of Christianity impeded by these evils. The author's reasoning is forcible, and well illustrated by facts. Important notes are appended to each section. The profits of the work to go to the funds of that valuable institution, the Philanthropic Society.

streets of our great metropolis, the chief city in the world, to the most retired village of our island kingdom; and with justice have they reprobated the inconsistence of a nation which boasts of her science and philosophy, the land of arts and commerce, the country of Bacon, Locke, and Newton, being given to so degrading and besotting a practice, which takes away the use of the rational faculties, and deprives a man of the honour and prerogative of his nature. It need scarcely be added, that intemperance is directly opposed to the formation of a moral and religious character, and to all that culture of the mental faculties and inward principles of action which is the object and business of moral and religious education; and which (in a former section) we have endeavoured to recommend and enforce, as that which it is the great and important duty of the government to provide. So far is drunkenness from being compatible with morality, that it saps the foundations of all rational instruction, and makes it worse than useless; since, if it can be employed at all in such a state, it will only be in a way to injure and annoy, not to improve and benefit another. So deeply convinced was the great Spartan lawgiver, Lycurgus, of the evil influence of this sin upon the national character, that he taught the Lacedæmonians to give their children a disgust of it in their youth, in a manner sufficiently barbarous, and in accordance with the tyrannical spirit of his age, and the character of the system which he adopted-namely, by making one of their Helot bondsmen drink to intoxication, and exposing him, in this state of brutal insensibility, to their scorn and abhorrence. As Christians, we cannot approve of such an example, which is in direct contradiction to the precepts of our holy religion, which teaches us to "love our neighbour as ourselves;" but we may learn from it, how truly disgraceful is the nature of this offence; and it may lead us to warn our children betimes to beware of its seductive influence, which creeps upon the mind before we are aware; and when once it has thrown its noose over the head of its unsuspecting victim, and entangled him in its fatal snare, usually leads him on from bad to worse, a helpless and hopeless captive, to be given over to the chains of ignominy and irretrievable ruin. From the first recorded case of intemperance (Gen. ix. 21) to the present time, this poisonous and deadly pest has insinuated itself, like a viper hid in the grass, unseen and unobserved, under a specious guise of social pleasure and innocent gratification; and thus has obtained an entrance into our bosoms, and fastening on its wretched victim with its envenomed fangs, has inflicted a deadly wound. We must therefore guard against the approaches of a sin, which, when frequently committed, may prove to be beyond the reach of a remedy, and defy all our endeavours to effect a cure.

The greatest misconceptions have long prevailed respecting the nature, necessity, and use of those intoxicating liquors, which are the fertile sources of so much evil and misery to mankind. No doubt they have their proper service, which renders them, when judiciously applied, highly valuable; even as the most acrid and deadly poisons are found to constitute the materials of the most potent and successful medicines which the skill of the apothecary has discovered. Thus chemistry informs us, that all fermented and distilled liquors contain a portion, larger or smaller, of pure spirit of alcohol, which is a pungent stimulant and slow poison, and of a nature utterly disqualified for nutriment, and calculated to produce the greatest injury to the human frame.

If Lycurgus did not directly teach this practice, it was in accordance with the rest of his instructions, and grew out of them.

The Cabinet.

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KNOWLEDGE AND IGNORANCE.-Much cause as we have to praise God for our knowledge, we have as urgent reason to bless him for our ignorance; for in a world of suffering and sin, how seldom, how very seldom, would prescience and misery be disunited! How often would the mother's heart be filled with sorrow, and her eyes with tears, if while she pressed her little one to her bosom, she could read in its peaceful and innocent countenance the trials, the sufferings, and the wretchedness of the future man! How often, while the parent watches with joy the first tottering footsteps of the child, would his spirit sink within him, as that dark day passed in sad and sorrowful anticipation before his eyes, when the course of nature should be inverted, and he should follow to the sepulchre the remains of one whom he fondly hoped would be the comfort and solace of his own declining years; or even worse than this, when he should live to see him a profligate and a reprobate, every early lesson forgotten, every good example cast aside, the fairest prospects of his youth for ever blighted, and his maturer age dishonoured by a course of reckless dissipation, and hastening the footsteps of those who gave him being with sorrow to the grave! But why do we particularise? Where is the festive scenewhere is the social meeting where even is the domestic and family circle, upon which a knowledge of the future (we speak only of the future which this world's horizon bounds and limits) would not cast a deep and gloomy shadow? Let, then, our praises ascend to God, that all here below is to us unknown and uncertain-that if afflictions and distresses, if sorrows and disappointments, be gathering around our path, there is no darkening cloud to portend, no ominous howling of the elements to proclaim the coming tempest. But still louder and more heartfelt should be our thanksgivings, that this uncertainty has its boundary, this ignorance its limit, even though that boundary and that limit is the grave. The foreknowledge which would be our bane and curse, as regards the events of time, is our highest joy as respects those of eternity. Of the better and nobler things which God has prepared for all who love him, our heavenly Father suffers no ignorance to dull our minds, no uncertainty to mar our prospect; and we, poor children of the dust, whose eye can penetrate but little deeper into the events of the day which passes over us than the worm we tread upon, can see as angels see, and know with a certainty that the highest archangel cannot emulate, events which shall befall us, and blessings which await us, when time itself shall be no more. Yes, every true child of God is here a prophet, and has inherited the prescience of holy Job, and may say with the same assurance and the same humble confidence, I also "know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.”—Elisha, by the Rev. Henry Blunt.

SPIRITUAL DEATH AND LIFE.-Now, touching our spiritual death and life, these sayings of the apostle should be thought upon: "We thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead; and that he died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him which died for them and rose again" (2 Cor. v. 14, 15). "God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ" (Eph. ii. 4, 5). "And you being dead in your sins, and the uncircumcision of your flesh, hath he quickened together with him, having forgiven you all trespasses" (Col. ii. 13). "I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of

God, who loved me, and gave himself for me" (Gal. ii. 20). From all which we may easily gather, that if by the obedience and sufferings of a mere man, though ever so perfect, the most sovereign medicine that could be thought upon should have been prepared for the curing of our wounds, yet all would be to no purpose, we being found dead when the medicine did come to be applied. Our physician, therefore, must not only be able to restore us unto health, but unto life itself; which none can do but the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, one God, blessed for ever. To which purpose these passages of our Saviour also are to be considered: "As the Father hath life in himself, so hath he given to the Son to have life in himself" (John, v. 26). "As the living Father hath sent me, and I live by the Father; so he that eateth me, even he shall live by me" (John, vi. 57). "I am the living bread, which came down from heaven; if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world" (John, vi. 51). The substance whereof is briefly comprehended in the saying of the apostle: "The last Adam was made a quickening spirit" (1 Cor. xv. 45). An Adam, therefore, and perfect man, must he have been; that his flesh, given for us upon the cross, might be made the conduit to convey life unto the world; and a quickening spirit he could not have been unless he were God, able to make that flesh an effectual instrument of life by the operation of his blessed Spirit. For, as he himself hath declared, "It is the Spirit that quickeneth" (John, vi. 63); without it the flesh would profit nothing. Immanuel, by Archbishop Usher, edited by the Rev. J. N. Pearson.

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CASTING OUR CARE UPON GOD.-The children of God have the only sweet life. The world thinks not so, rather looks on them as poor, discontented, lowering creatures; but it sees not what an uncaring, truly secure life they are called to. While others are turmoiling and wrestling, each with his projects and burdens for himself, and are at length crushed and sinking under them-for that is the end of all that do for themselves,-the child of God goes free from the pressure of all that concerns him, it being laid over on his God. If he use his advantage, he is not racked with musings, Oh! what will become of this and that? but goes on in the strength of his God as he may, offers up poor but sincere endeavours to God, and is sure of one thing, that all shall be well. He lays his affairs and himself on God, and so hath no pressing care; no care but the care of love, how to please, how to honour his Lord. And in this too he depends on him both for skill and strength; and, touching the success of things, he leaves that as none of his to be burdened with, casts it on God, and since he careth for it, they need not both care, his care alone is sufficient. Hence springs peace, inconceivable peace. "Be careful for nothing, but in every thing by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds, through Christ Jesus" (Phil. iv. 6, 7). —Abp. Leighton.

Poetry.

NATIONAL BALLADS.-No. VI.

AN APOLOGY.

BY M. A. STODART.

(For the Church of England Magazine.)

YE bid me stay my rapid hand,

And check the rising strain;

Such themes, ye say, high powers demand, And mine are wild and vain ;

When the loud thunder's voice is heard,
Who heeds, ye ask, the warbling bird?
I know, I know that stirring strain
Is not for hand so weak;

And yet, if all should mute remain,

The stones would forthwith speak: Tempests, we see, are gathering round; Why hush a faint but faithful sound? I glance on England's sons of song With feeling still'd and deep; But gazing on the laurell'd throng, I cannot choose but weep: Silent they stand, while perils lour

Silent in England's dark'ning hour! O, for some hand, bold, firm, and free, To sweep the living lyre With might of English minstrelsy,

With force of ancient fire!
Such hand could glowing truths declare,
Might rouse the lion from his lair.

Sad, silent o'er my harp I bend;
I strike its feeble strings;
But faintly, though the sounds ascend,
One chord responsive rings,
Which tells how dark must be the days
When hands like mine a warning raise.
Despise not, then, my simple lay;
Its weakness hath a power
To warn of England's waning day,

My country's threatening hour: 'Tis when the thunder's voice is heard, We hear the cry of fluttering bird.

THE NIGHTINGALE-FLOWER. FAIR flower of silent night,

Unto thy bard an emblem thou shouldst be; His fount of song in hours of garish light Is closed like thee.

But with the vesper-hour,

Silence and solitude its depths unseal;
Its hidden springs, like thy unfolding flower,
Their life reveal.

Were it not sweeter still

To give imagination holier scope,
And deem that thus the future may fulfil
A loftier hope?

That, as thy lovely bloom

Sheds round its perfume; at the close of day, With beauty sweeter from surrounding gloom, A star-like ray ;

So, in life's dark decline,

When the grave's shadows are around me cast, My spirit's hopes may, like thy blossoms, shine Bright at the last;

And as the grateful scent

Of thy meek flower, the memory of my name : Oh! who could wish for prouder monument, Or purer fame ?

The darkness of the grave

Would wear no gloom appalling to the sight,
Might hope's fair blossom, like thy flow'ret, brave
Death's wintry night;

Knowing the dawn drew nigh

Of an eternal, though a sunless day,
Whose glorious flowers must bloom immortally,
Nor fear decay.
BERNARD BARTON.

Miscellaneous.

CONVERSATION OF ENGLISH WOMEN.-Besides the cases already described, there are some darker passages in human life, when women are thrown upon the actual charm of their conversation, for rendering more alluring the home that is not valued as it should be. Perhaps a husband has learned before his marriage the fatal habit of seeking recreation in scenes of excitement and convivial mirth. It is but natural that such habits should with difficulty be broken off, and that he should look with something like weariness upon the quiet and monotony of a fireside. Music cannot always please, and books to such a man are a tasteless substitute for the evening party. He may possibly admire his wife, consider her extremely good-looking, and, for a woman, think her very pleasant; but the sobriety of matrimony palls upon his vitiated taste, and he longs to feel himself a free man again amongst his old associates. Nothing would disgust this man so much, or drive him away so effectually, as any assumption, on the part of his wife, of a right to detain him. The next most injudicious thing she could do, would be to exhibit symptoms of grief, of real sorrow and distress, at his leaving her; for whatever may be said in novels on the subject of beauty in tears, it is sure to be rendered null and void by the circumstance of marriage having taken place between the parties. The rational woman, whose conversation on this occasion is to serve her purpose more effectually than tears, knows better than to speak of what her husband would probably consider a most unreasonable subject of complaint. She tries to recollect some incident, some trait of character, or some anecdote of what has lately occurred within her knowledge, and relates it in her most lively and piquant manner. If conscious of beauty, she tries a little raillery, and plays gently upon some of her husband's not unpleasing peculiarities, looking all the while as disengaged and unsuspecting as she can. If his attention becomes fixed, she gives her conversation a more serious turn, and plunges at once into some theme of deep and absorbing interest. If her companion grows restless, she changes the subject, and again recollects something laughable to relate to him. Yet all the while her own poor heart is aching with the feverish anxiety that vacillates between the extremes of hope and fear. She gains courage, however, as time steals on, for her husband is by her side; and with her increasing courage, her spirits become exhilarated, and she is indeed the happy woman she has hitherto but appeared; for at last her husband looks at his watch, is astonished to find it is too late to join his friends; and, while the evening closes in, he wonders whether any other man has a wife so delightful and entertaining as his own.

CONFIRMATION.-Let me draw your attention to a custom, similar to our rite of confirmation, existing amongst the Jews. Their children, you are aware, are

From "The Women of England, their social Duties and Domestic Habits." By Mrs. Ellis, author of "The Poetry of Life," &c. &c. 4th edit. Fisher, Son, and Co., London; Quai de l'Ecole, Paris.-A sensible work, and meriting the attentive perusal of those for whose instruction it was more particularly written.

admitted into covenant with God, by the rite of circumcision, when they are eight days old, as our children are admitted into a better covenant with him, when they are infants, by the sacrament of baptism. When the minds of these Jewish children are matured to understand their duties and obligations, they are brought before the congregation to promise, in their "All own persons, obedience to the law of God. Jewish parents are reckoned to be accountable for the sins of their sons till they are thirteen years old, but no longer; and therefore when boys arrive at their thirteenth year, they are for the first time called up to the law, that is, they stand at the altar in their synagogue on the Sabbath-day, and read a chapter or more in the law themselves, and become accountable for obedience to it, and are called Bar Mitzwah, or sons of the statutes." This was the custom with the Jews in old time; and it is not unreasonably supposed that when our Lord went up with his parents to Jerusalem at the time of the feast of the passover, he accompanied them for the purpose of conforming to the customs and institutions of religion, and fulfilling the righteousness of that covenant into which, in his early infancy, he had been admitted by the ordinance of circumcision. From a letter which I have received from a Jew, who is now a member and ordained minister of our own Church, I find that this custom is still continued amongst the sons of Israel now in the days of their dispersion. "A Jewish boy," he informs me, "at the age of thirteen years is received into full communion in the Jewish synagogue. His father

then puts his hand upon the son's head, and says that he, the father, is no more responsible for the sins of his son, but that he must be answerable for them himself." As the Jews, then, admitted infants into covenant with God by the rite of circumcision, so do we admit them into covenant with him, through Jesus Christ, by the sacrament of baptism: and, as the Jews bring their children, in mature years, to promise obedience to the covenant in their own names, so also do we bring the youthful members of our Church to confirmation, to promise for themselves obedience to the "everlasting covenant." As the apostles, by the "laying on of hands," confirmed those who had been converted and baptised, "and prayed over them," that they might receive the Holy Ghost, and as St. Paul has enumerated the "laying on of hands" amongst "the principles of the doctrine of Christ,"-so must we, taking them for our example, the Scripture for our guide, "follow their godly motions" in all things, and seek for the gift of grace, as the first converts sought for it, in answer to many prayers, and by the "laying on of hands."-Rev. J. Downall.

AIR. Atmospheric air is a compound body; its elements are azote, oxygen, and carbonic acid. The two former are simple gases, the last is a mixture of oxygen and carbon. The proportion which these elements bear to one another in pure air is that which is most conducive to health. If the quantity of oxygen is increased, the circulation is quickened, and symptoms of fever appear; if, on the other hand, the proportion of carbonic acid is great, it diminishes the vital energy, produces headaches, languor, and even death. When air is respired, its composition is altered; the quantity of azote remains almost the same, but a large portion of the oxygen disappears, and is replaced by carbonic acid.-Curtis on Health.

London: Published by JAMES BURNS, 17 Portman Street, Portman Square; W. EDWARDS, 12 Ave-Maria Lane, St. Paul's; and to be procured, by order, of all Booksellers in Town and Country.

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ON THE OMISSION OF THE DUTY OF
PRAYER IN THE MOSAIC LAW.
BY THE REV. EDWARD HAWKINS, D.D.
Provost of Oriel College, Oxford, and Prebendary of
Rochester.

II.

THE actions and outward ceremonies of the Mosaic worship might, in some measure, teach the duty of prayer, even without any express commands to this effect in the written law. The offering of sacrifices and incense, in particular, would answer this purpose very easily, and does in fact appear to have answered it to a considerable extent. Hence the Psalmist says, "Let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense, and the lifting up of my hands (meaning, of course, the lifting up of the hands in prayer) as the evening sacrifice." For sacrifices, in fact, corresponded with almost all the occasions and offices of prayer and worship,--such as, the adoration of God's majesty, the invocation of his aid and blessing, confession of sins, petitions for pardon, assistance, or blessings, pleading his promises, dedicating ourselves or our substance to his service, blessing and praising his mercy and bounty. And whether the Israelites did or did not from the first accompany the sacrifices with actual prayers, the use of prayers in worship would thus in some measure be answered by their sacrifices. And after a time, we are informed that they did accompany their sacrifices with express prayers; and further, when they could no longer offer sacrifices because their temple was destroyed, they appointed public stated prayers to correspond with the public stated sacrifices-morning

VOL. VII.-NO. CLXXVIII.

PRICE 1d.

prayer to correspond with the morning sacrifice, evening prayer with the evening sacrifice, and the additional prayer with the additional sacrifice. And we find the sacred writers themselves, both of the Old and New Testaments, alluding to the connexion between sacrifice and prayer. Thus Hosea calls upon Israel to render unto God the "calves of the lips" (xiv. 2). Thus Saul is spoken of as making supplication and sacrifice almost the same: "I had not made supplication unto the Lord; I forced myself therefore and offered a burnt-offering" (1 Sam. xiii. 12). And Solomon unites both in a passage already cited: "The sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord; but the prayer of the upright is his delight" (Prov. xv. 8; 2 Mac. i. 28, 29). And in the New Testament St. Paul calls upon us "by Christ to offer the sacrifice of praise to God continually" (Heb. xiii. 15); and St. Peter describes all Christians as "an holy priesthood to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ" (1 Pet. ii. 5).

But it is probable that the offering of incense was yet more particularly considered as a figure or symbol of the offering of prayer. Accordingly we find, that it was the custom of the Jews, at the time of our Saviour, to offer up their prayers in the courts of the temple, when the priest was burning incense within the temple itself. So David in the text likens his prayer to incense: and St. John in the Revelation connects incense and prayer in a very remarkable manner; "The four and twenty elders," he says, "fell down before the Lamb, having every one of them harps and golden vials full of odours, which are the prayers of saints" (v. 8). Again;

[London: Robson, Levey, and Franklyn, 46 St. Martin's Lane.]

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