defenders of the truth as he; "in him alone nothing is observed but what became a wise man to do, and a righteous man to suffer." In short it was "the whole world against Athanasius, and Athanasius against it; half a hundred of years spent in doubtful struggle which of the two would in the end prevail; the side which had all, or else the part which had no friend but God and death: God the defender of his innocency and death the finisher of his troubles." (Hooker, Ec. Pol. v. 54. 5.) I need only say now that God's side finally prevailed, and the Creed of which we have been writing, drawn up after St. Athanasius' death from his works, comes down to us as the perpetual trophy of it. And every clause in it seems to me like a hardly-contested battle-field. It may have lain quiet and undisturbed enough for centuries: but then it was that in old time the soldiers of God met the prince of this world with every alternation of victory and defeat; then it was, in short, that the good fight of faith was fought and was won. I must not look, with me in all this. perhaps, to carry you along One must have studied the history of this saint and of the time in which he lived. One must have watched his different struggles and followed him into his exile. But still I hope I have said enough abundantly to vindicate this noble Creed from the objections you have heard against it, and that I have succeeded in shewing you how little reason there is for any inward uneasiness at the appointed repetition of it. On the contrary; its doctrines will receive our most hearty assent as nothing but what plain Scripture teaches, and what we must cling to as the very hope of our souls. And instead of being inclined to except at the way in which this doctrine is stated, you will rather feel thankful, that all has been drawn out so clear and plain for us beforehand, that God has given us richly to enjoy an inheritance for which St. Athanasius had to fight, that other men have laboured and we have entered into their labours. Its solemn comminations too, you will as cordially accept, as being the very language of God's own Word; nay, you will feel thankful for them, you will "kiss the rod." You may be sure that now of all times they are most useful, that now of all times men need to be forcibly reminded that God asks the submission of our intellects, (what they are so unwilling to give Him,) that they must bow to His truth as well as obey His will, and that they are re sponsible for what they believe as much as for what they do. Such, I repeat, is the main lesson of the Athanasian Creed. And the more you think about it, the more I feel persuaded you will see how valuable it is to us, and what little weight really lies in the popular objections which you hear taken against it. I will only add my prayer, shortly, that all your searchings after truth may ever be made in such a reverent and humble spirit as will ensure God's blessing upon them, that He may remove all scruples and doubtfulness, and keep you stedfast in His faith. Your affectionate friend and pastor. JOHN HENRY PARKER, OXFORD AND LONDON. EDWARD ELFORD; OR, WHO'S AFRAID? EDWARD ELFORD was one of the nicest boys in Eglos-ros, or Church-heath. Every boy in the school liked him; was he any the better for this? No: for if he had been firm, and always done his duty, some boys would have disliked him but he was not always firm. His face was open, full of happiness and kindness. You could see at once, that he was good-natured, generous, and brave, as the world calls people brave. But whether he was truly brave or not, we shall see hereafter. : However, all the boys of the school considered Edward brave, and not without reason for not long after he came to school, he defended one of his playfellows against an idle boy, who was plaguing him, a boy older and stronger than himself: and although he was severely beaten he would not give in, and kept on defending his friend until a man who was coming by ended the quarrel. Another thing which he had done, was perhaps still braver. He was sent on an errand with a basket, and as he was going along the road, the farmer's wife for whom his father worked, came by in a gig with her little girl, and seeing him toiling along with his basket, and appearing much tired, she very kindly took him up. They had not gone far, however, before a gun was fired off behind the hedge: the horse took fright, and started forward so suddenly that the reins slipped out of Mrs. Pascoe's hands, and the horse galloped on with them along the road. On and on he went, and did not seem likely to stop; only one field more remained to pass, and then they would be on the top of a steep hill, where the road was narrow and winding, and ledges of smooth rock crossed it constantly. It was quite inpossible that they could reach the bottom of this hill in safety, if the horse did not stop. Edward saw this, and treading on the shaft, he jumped on the horse's back; the horse gave another start, and almost upset the gig. Edward, however, clung to him, and gathering up the reins, he threw the long end of them over his shoulder, so that Mrs. Pascoe caught it, and the horse was pulled up in time. |