CLIO'S Father on a Death Bed.

IT was evening: the moon shone bright. The stars glittered in the heavens, so distinctly that I could call them by name. I admired the wonders of God in the firmament, and adored the Author of existence. This recalled to my mind the histo­ry of creation, and the records of that book, which I had for some time neglected. For the moment, [Page 8]remorse took possession of my soul. I retired to my study and took my Bible; but, on opening it, much of its grandeur was lost, and no part seemed to invite my attention. I laid it down, and took up a book, entitled "THE RELIGION OF NATURE," in which the author attempts to prove himself more capable than his Maker, of proposing a system of faith and morals. However absurd his attempt, the title then promised just what suited my turn of mind. I soon ran over the contents, and casting my eye upon the chapters, caught, with a transi­tory pleasure, the following words: "This proves, that the writings of Moses are farcical, that the story of Ruth and Esther is ridiculous; that the account of a theocracy is whimsical; and as to the Psalms of David and the Prophecies, (as they are called) any man of tolerable genius, might write better. The Proverbs of Solomon are old sentences, which were current in his day; and as to the New Testament, there is scarcely a page, but what con­tains something incredible and impossible." He went on to ridicule the doctrine of miracles, and to shew, that no man of sense would believe any thing, unless he knew the reason of it. I did not examine how he attempted to prove all this, nor what system he proposed in the room of it; but he said enough to balance all the impressions, with which I sat down, and I retired to rest in a state of absolute suspense.

My sleep was confused, and towards morning, methought I was transported to the bedside of my father who appeared to be in his last moments. It was a scene, which touched me to the heart. How distressed did I feel, at seeing my parent, the guide of my youth, so near the grave. To me the world had begun to propose its allurements; all [Page 9]the objects of time and sense seemed to be gilded. I had not then conceived a thought, that the colouring was all imparted from my own eye, nor had suspected that when these eyes should, like my father's, lose their lustre, the world would lose its charms.

How fondly, and ost how fatally, are youth de­ceived! They pursue the shadow of a moment, and lose the eternal substance.

It seems at this moment a reality, that my fath­er, feeble and almost breathless, took my hand, and said, "Weep not, my son, I go to a better world. Trusting in my Saviour, 'to die will be everlasting gain.' I expect you to preach the gospel, and in a few years to see you following me, bringing with you the seals of your ministry and the crown of your rejoicing. The time will come, when like me, you must be surrounded by weeping friends, breathing your last. Keep that hour ever in mind, and you will be faithful to the souls of men. Avoid subtle reasonings. Preach in its power and extent the doctrines of the cross, and ever be found bearing about you the blessings of the gospel of peace. Imitate your divine Saviour, go about doing good, visit the sick, comfort mourners, pour balm into wounds, and point out the Lamb of God, to all who are enquiring the way to Zion; and, my son, consider that I shall expect soon to embrace you in a world, where we shall never part."

My father knew the tenderness of my heart, and forebore saying many things, which he might have added, and soon after appeared calmly to breathe his last, saying, 'INTO THY HANDS, MY SAVIOUR, I COMMIT MY SPIRIT!' Such was the impression of the moment, that I would have gladly followed, and left the world to its vanities, and my destruc­tive books to be cankered by their poisons. At [Page 10]waking, the impression was fresh in my mind, and my pillow was moistened with tears. Though I found it but a dream of the night, it seemed like a warning from heaven. The solemn sound of my father's voice still rung in my ears, as if an angel spoke. I rose and opened my Bible, and with what rapture did I turn over the leaves of that inspired volume. Then with what contempt did I regard the feeble reasonings of man, when opposed to the wisdom of God. How could men leave such foun­tains of love for streams of pride! How could they prefer the trifles of a moment, the rattles of an hour, to everlasting riches! Is it possible that I was ever blind to these sacred truths? And can I now think of closing these records of redeeming love? No. this shall be the man of my counsels. Of this gospel I will be the herald. By this shall I be enabled to become an humble instrument of the Spirit, to lead enquiring souls into the way of all truth; to administer the blessed comforts of our most holy religion to the mourners in Zion, and to lead the thirsty soul to the wells of salvation.

How will the spirit of my father be rejoiced to see me arrive at the heavenly courts, attended by those who, through my ministry, shall be rescued from sin and death, and brought into the kingdom of Jesus Christ?

As well might Atheists talk of heaven, as Deists hope for future happiness. Can their systems stand the conflagration? Can their wood, hay and stubble, built upon the sand, endure that fire which shall try every work? No! Then will I begin in earnest to build gold, silver and precious stones upon the foundation of the gospel. On this book [Page 11]will I build my hopes, and on the munition of rocks, my salvation.^*

MARTIN's CONNEXION.

NOTHING could be more pleasing, at this time, than to see Clio firm to his resolution; but his conviction of the truth resulted from feelings ex­cited by a vision. I visited him, while under all these impressions, which he has described. He shed abundance of tears at his former folly, and assur­ed me, that he was now resolved to be a christian indeed. Knowing the quickness of his feelings, and convinced, that he relied upon his own strength, I proposed to him these words, which he has since told me, that he had afterwards occasion to con­sider as peculiarly prophetic. "The youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall." Had he then waited upon the Lord, his strength would have been renewed, and he might have mounted, on the wings of the gospel, as an eagle; but he fell, and great indeed was his fall. It is easy to descend, but hard to retrack our steps. Youth are easily charmed into the paths of vice. To them virtue seems a rugged way. Ask the aged Christian, and he will tell you, from experi­ence, that THE WAYS OF VIRTUE ARE WAYS OF PLEASANTNESS. Ask the aged sinner, and he will tell you, "I was allured into the paths of vice. In the spring of life I set out on flowers, and for a lit­tle [Page 12]time the path was delightful. I pursued it with the ardor of youth, farther than I can ever retrack, for lo! the winter of age is come, and the flowers are no more." Let youth be warned, that beneath the roses of pleasure are the briars of pain.

Clio had received much excellent advice, had heard the lessons of experience; his impressions were strong; but his heart was unguarded. His former associates soon found admission to his room. Wishing to persuade them, he communicated the suspense of his mind, his vision, and consequent resolution.

They were too artful to ridicule him at once; but began to hint at the prejudice of education, on which they at length so much refined, as to in­sist, that nothing ought to be believed, which we learnt of our parents; that all the experience to which the aged pretend, was only to make youth revere them, and imbibe their principles, without examination; that when people began to be old and gloomy, they saw every thing through a wrong medium. One proceeded so far as to say, that he despised all old musty lessons of his father; that he would think for himself, and that he did not want a stronger argument against any proposition, than that it was maintained by our forefathers.

Clio proposed the following answer: "Do we not grow wiser as we grow older? and why should not our parents be supposed to do the same. They have passed through this very time of life, and the sun shone then as bright as now. We are not to suppose, because many nights have interfered be­tween their youth and ours, that their days were darker, or their minds less improved than ours. They have experience, and my father has often told me, that THE EXPERIENCE OF THE AGED, WAS [Page 13]BETTER THAN SILVER AND GOLD TO THE YOUNG. Can they have any motive to adopt wrong princi­ples, or to instruct their children in what they do not believe?"

His seducers had been accustomed to such re­marks, and answered them partly with appearance of argument, and partly with sneers and ridicule: "Solomon," they said, "was for pronouncing vanity upon this world, when he was too old to en­joy it." And they added—"No subject or object can make a just impression, except at the very mo­ment of observing it. Our parents may as well judge of the proportions of a building, at a thou­sand miles distance, as of our pleasures, or princi­ples, or religion, at their distance of age."

Clio gave some heed to this remark, not reflect­ing on the infinite difference between mere subjects and objects of sense, and those moral principles and practices, the just conception of which, ever depend upon mature judgment and experience. SOPHISTRY HAS RUINED ITS THOUSANDS! 'Tis the engine, which the enemy of man most success­fully employs against the minds of youth.

But these sophists understood Clio's unguarded part, and there plied with success. "How," said they, "can a young man, of genius and talents, be dependent for his religion on his nurse, and quote for argument, the prattle of a fire-side? Do not all subjects stand on their own basis? If a religion be unreasonable, it ought to be rejected; and if there be reasons enough, by them let it be sup­ported; for MERE HEREDITARY RELIGION IS GOOD FOR NOTHING." This last remark being perfectly true, gave an air of truth to the preceding ones.

Clio's pride, as a scholar, was now called into exercise, and he considered himself to have renounced [Page 14]nothing, when he consented to try the truth of the book by argument. He resolved to defend it against their attacks, and vainly hoped that these would be among his first converts.

Alas! little did he know his own strength; for as yet he had never proved the armour of the gos­pel, nor known the power of the Spirit of God. But this interesting scene we have in his own words, which introduce the second vision.

CLIO'S Father becomes his Guardian Angel.

FOR ever gloomy will appear to me that night, when, with my seducing associates, I opened the sacred volume, and vainly presumed to establish the eternal truth of God, upon the feeble reason of man. We had not even attained maturity of mind; mere youths, just started into being, and indebted for all our little knowledge to our par­ents and instructors! yet we presumptuously ar­raigned these our best friends, before the very tri­bunal of knowledge, which they had erected in our minds, and there ungratefully condemned them as old, as prejudiced, and unworthy to guide us. ALAS! HOW MANY YOUTHS HAVE BEEN RUINED BY AN AFFECTED INDEPENDENCE OF THOUGHT! HOW INDEPENDENT ARE SUCH OF REASON, OF GRATITUDE, OF SENSE AND REFLECTION!—But the word of God was opened, and mere children, who ought to have been under a father's rod, were sitting with mock majesty, to decide upon the truth of revelation. When David was champion of the [Page 15]armies of Israel, he relied not o^ll his stone and sling, but in the name of the Lord, and in the strength of the mighty God of Jacob. But I, alas! had not even a stone nor a sling; yet might have made some defence against my associates, feeble as myself, had not they produced against me the mighty Go­liahs, the champions of infidelity, who have long defied the experienced soldiers in the armies of Jesus. To their helmets of brass and mighty spears, what could I oppose? The contest was short; I resigned the Bible, renounced the doctrines of the cross, which I was to have preached, and became more fatally than before, a victim to subtlety and sophistry.

The event was such as an experienced parent could have foretold. We triumphed together up­on a reunion of sentiment, and I retired to rest.

Not long had my eyes been closed, when the well-known face of my father presented itself to me. The natural benignity of his countenance was heightened by celestial smiles. He was apparelled in white, which I have since learned, were the robes of the Redeemer's righteousness. He had in his right hand a branch of palm-tree, which he told me, was an emblem of victory; not gained by himself, but presented by the mighty Conqueror. Says he, "I am permitted to leave yonder world, to visit the son of my hopes: You are designed by the great Head of the Church, to be a minister of the gospel, and to be instrumental in turning many from the error of their ways, to the wisdom of the just. By nature you were formed, both in heart and soul, for the arduous task.

You are to be an officer in the armies of Jesus, and to oppose the weapons, which his gospel has furnished, against the rebels to his cause and kingdom. You are [Page 16]to assist in restoring to allegiance, those, who have once declared, that they will not have Christ to reign over them.

"I appear to you, that you may never be led to doubt the truth of God. Behold, I have been translat­ed to immortal life, and you shall live for ever: But I have left you in a world full of error and temptation, and am fearful that you will, in some unguarded mo­ment, be allured from the new and living way, which is opened through the veil, into the holy of holies."

How was my heart melted to see the love of my father survive the grave! How overwhelmed with grief and shame to see him leave the world of glory, and the hallelujahs of heaven, to visit a poor wretch, who, but a few hours before, had renounced his Saviour and his Bible!

With what sweet serenity, and irresistible elo­quence, did he teach me the character of a Chris­tian preacher, and open to me the doctrines of the New Testament? With what earnestness did he instruct me how to conduct the thunders of Sinai to the souls of men? THE LAW WAS THE MASTER WHICH LED ME TO CHRIST. How did he warn me against that religion, which is seated in the head, and which has no influence upon the hearts and lives of men? I wave the remarks which en­sued: they were full of tenderness, infinitely full of instruction. To them am I indebted for a knowledge of my duty.

I dared not to tell him, that I had renounced the gospel, and trampled on the cross; but he had been my guardian angel, and knew my conduct: yea, he knew the infirmity of human nature, too well to address me with reproofs.

"I saw," says he, "my son, attempt to defend the word of God, upon principles of human rea­son. [Page 17]Your motives were good, and you are now as able to defend by argument the divinity of rev­elation, as the oldest Christian. The truth of God was never submitted to the reason of man. God is a Spirit; his ways are far above our ways: we see the effect, but in tracing the cause, get lost in a labyrinth, and cannot see where the windings run. Alas! what is external or internal evidence without the power of God? The scholar may ad­mire the reasonings and the eloquence of Paul. The philosopher may trace the effects of Christianity upon the nations, on which has arisen the sun of righteousness. Miracles and prophecies may have weight with men, whose minds are not captious; but, my son, of all these outward evidences be­ware; they are the subtle contrivances of Satan. RELIGION SEATED IN THE HEAD IS NOT THE RE­LIGION OF JESUS; yet such may amuse the igno­rant and unsuspecting. It is true, that some good christians have been led to defend their Saviour, as Peter did, by a human weapon; but such have been counselled to return the sword into the sheath. The greater part of those who have introduced evidences, are Deists, subtle ensnarers of the souls of men. OF SUCH, MY SON, BEWARE!

"Preach the law to those, who are without, and the gospel to the real followers of the Lamb. If infidelity abounds; yet you are not commission­ed to attack it. Sorely has the cause of religion been wounded by its best friends. They, from a motive of promoting its interests, have exposed it to ridicule. Christianity is not a scheme of human reason; it is the wisdom of God. It cannot be supported on principles of reason. David had surely been slain, had he relied upon his stone and sling."

[Page 18] The vision was no more; but in the morning, the last word rested in my memory, and by it I recalled the whole scene. The impression was strong. It produced a change in my sentiments on the subject of religion, and I resolved no more to enter the lists against those, who fought with human armour. These were my reflections. "If Christianity has influenced the lives of men, so has every other religion. If martyrs have died in its de­fence, so have they upon all subjects. If scripture language be sublime, other writings are not infinitely inferior: And in short, I can find no argument, which Christians have adduced in favor of their system, more powerful, than the arguments of infidels and Mahometans. If we ridicule the sensual paradise of this last class, they, in return, ridicule our sensual Je­rusalem. They challenge as much right to derive their ideas of futurity from earthly pleasures, as we have to derive them from silver, gold, and precious stones, the objects of sense and avarice." In the event, my father's advice appeared just, that THE REAL TRUTH OF REVELATION DEPENDS UPON THE SPIRIT OF GOD.

I rose, and having a large library at my com­mand, employed several weeks in examining the writings of Leland, Tillotson, Beattie, Lardner, Jennings, Butler, &c. In the whole, no argument appeared, which was not easily answered; for none had adduced in proof the Spirit of God; too modest to challenge it themselves, and too delicate to ob­trude it upon the world. At that time, I lamented their manifest weakness and presumption; but since have had reason to adore that wisdom, which has denied to the reason of man, the power of God.

[Page 19] My resolutions were again formed; my plans were laid for spreading the gospel. My Bible was much in my hands. I studied closely its contents, but saw not its truths by the eye of faith. Human wisdom was still my foundation, and the pride of science remained; yet, how deceitful is the heart of man! I thought myself a real Christian, and sol­emnly promised allegiance, fidelity and perpetual service to Jesus Christ.*"Lord I have made thy word my choice." Watts's 119th Ps. 8th Part.

MARTIN's CONNEXION.

FEELINGS, ardent as Clio's, could not be long kept in their present state, nor ought we to wish it; for as yet he had no true love to God, no zeal for the law, and no genuine belief of the gospel. In fact, though he appeared an enthusiastic Christian, he was not one of GOD's CHRISTIANS; yet all the attacks of his companions were, after this, un­successful. He saw the fallacy of their ground, and despised their unfair mode of attacking the gospel.

He found that most of the writings, for and a­gainst the authenticity of revelation, were artful efforts of deism: that a few only were written by professing Christians, and that these had rather ex­posed than defended the cause. He was willing to consider some as good men, who had under­taken to defend the truth of God by human weap­ons; but regarded their attempts as no parts of their religion, nor proofs of their judgment.

[Page 20] He saw that a PRIDE OF SCIENCE had ruined thousands, and little suspected this root of bitter­ness in his own heart. He began to prepare for preaching, like many thousands, who have never drank from the spiritual rock. He went on the common hackneyed road, believed as his commen­tator wrote, and made out his body, rather scheme, of Christianity. He had not resolved what party to join, concluding, with a good share of human wisdom to wait, till he should know the prevailing sentiments of the people and the probable place of his settlement. In fact, he had resolved upon little more, than to be a preacher, instead of devoting himself to any other profession. He found, that ser­mons might be composed so as not to offend any party; would often say, "THAT IF MEN WERE MORAL, THAT WAS THE GREAT POINT; AS FOR DOCTRINES AND PRINCIPLES, THEY WERE QUITE SUBORDINATE." His first sermons, therefore, were very pretty compositions, neatly written, and [...] proper for a periodical paper. His texts were [...] the Bible indeed; but the sermons were too [...] written to have any connexion with them, and [...] might have preached as well in a Mahometan mosque, or Chinese temple, as in a Christian church.

Thus equipped was Clio to preach Jesus Christ, and to be the herald of salvation. You shall now have his exact words on this part of his life, writ­ten after his real conversion, entitled, a Waking Vision.

CLIO deluded by the Philosophy of SHAFTESBURY.

—HOW must the spirit of my guar­dian parent have been affected, at seeing a strip­ling go forth, thus miserably prepared for the work of the ministry! Had I then persisted, he would surely have restrained me.

How was it possible that I, all ignorant of men, and destitute of grace and gospel truth, as the beasts which perish, should presume to offer my­self to instruct men in the way to heaven? How could I, who was dead, and under the sentence of the law condemned, teach men to live and be sav­ed? Were my hands pure enough to handle the word of life? Alas! I had not then tasted that the Lord was gracious: But I was prevented from this great evil, by a very singular incident. One of me [...]iends had suggested to me the importance of some knowledge of men, before I attempted to preach to them, and advised me, very ignorantly, to go through a course of studies upon human nature, and subjects of real life. I did not then reflect, that books were but the pictures of life; that some were very deficient in real likeness; that the fashion of the world changed; and that if the disorders of the heart remained always the same, yet the symptoms were perpetually varying. Books I studi­ed for a knowledge of men, and was peculiarly pleased with the ingenious philosophy of Shaftes­bury.

He taught, in most charming language, the dignity of human nature; and on the rubbish of sin, folly and fashion erected a superb structure of [Page 22]morality. This was decorated with all the elegan­cies of his fancy, and presented to the eye, as hav­ing the strictest proportions.

MY YOUNG FRIENDS ENTER NOT THE PORCH OF HIS DOORS, FOR WITHIN ARE THE CHAMBERS OF DEATH.

Soon will that fabric feel its want of founda­tion and totter to the ground, crushing all who shall be found in it.

On closing this book, I thought myself possessed of a key to all hearts; was persuaded, that MAN, created in the likeness of God; that MAN, the lord of this lower world; that MAN, so near to angels, was full of dignity; that he needed no threats and terrors, but that mildness and persua­sion, addressed to his reason and understanding, would be sure of producing effect.

These were the days when I talked learnedly about the moral sense, and the soft pliability of the human soul; about the natural attraction between the mind of man, and every thing good, amiable and excellent throughout the universe. I sought the company of those, who admired the ingenious system, and wondered at the stupidity of the world, in not seeing its justice. This led me to ridicule the doctrine of moral depravity.

I even refined upon the system, and pursued it, just as the author could have wished, first oppos­ing all exercise of punishment on earth, for breach of human laws. THE LORDS OF CREATION WERE TO BE LED, NOT DRIVEN. But I could not fail to re­flect on the millions of men, who are exceedingly vicious and debased, abandoned to the meanest vices, to the profoundest ignorance, or the most horrid crimes.

[Page 23] Men once system-mad are not easily checked. My new doctrine would prove or disprove any thing. I made it change the whole face of the natural and moral world. The earth was culti­vated, and all the bloom of Eden smiling in the midst of winter. Men of all classes became moral and industrious. Hills lay low, and vallies rose at my command; and here I saw clearly, that this principle was finally to prepare the way for a mil­lennial state. The influence of it began to be vis­ible in the abolition of slavery, in the increase of institutions of learning, and in the revolutions of empire.

With shame I reflect on those vagaries of a dis­tempered brain, those whims of an ungoverned fancy; yet this system of dignity was then in all my discourse; it regulated my choice of diet; was applicable to all professions, to every body, and to every business under the sun.

With confidence I intruded it into every body's affairs, and left my own eternal business undone. While I thought the doctrine my slave, which would go and come at my command; it was in fact my God. I worshipped it, and paid to it the homage of all my faculties.

To crown all, Shaftesbury's system (if only his name was omitted) proved the truth of revelation and elucidated all its doctrines. Once after a re­tired walk, having wrought myself into a frenzy of dignity and moral sense, I burst forth into the following exclamation, "Franklin may boast of snatching lightning from the clouds, it shall be mine to shine in the moral world with more distinguished fame. I'll teach men, that though the thunders of the mount, and the wrath of God must fall, I can render them [Page 24]perfectly harmless. This system shall be the conductor, and thus all the families of the earth shall be safe."

I had wrought up the figure to its highest pitch; but was more solicitous to preserve a parallel be­tween Franklin's glory and mine, than between the thunder of our clouds, and THE THUNDER OF THE ALMIGHTY GOD.

On returning, I opened my Bible, and between the original and translation, new modelled the his­tory of the fall, proving that it was an actual rising.

By the first chapter of Isaiah I found, that (oth­erwise translated) man was from the crown of his head to the soals of his feet all soundness.

In the New Testament much was wrong; but when I found, that in so many passages, we were assured, that the wrath of God should be revealed upon all unrighteousness of man, I concluded not to alter them, but to do better for God and men, saving the honor of the first, and the souls of the last. I contrived that when the wrath must come, it should light upon the sins; but leave the sinner unhurt; and that in the last great day, when sin­ners were summoned to appear before the bar of God, the sins should appear, and answer for the deeds, which they had done in the pure bodies of men; but—how could sins appear alone, and where would the man be, in whom those sins were committed? All this was easily contrived, at that inventive time of life. The soul was to be separat­ed from the passions; these passions were to ac­company the sins; and the man, who had been an actual sufferer by these passions and their sins, would see the righteous sentence of God executed upon them.

[Page 25] All these things were proved and illustrated by many texts of scripture. Every thing bent kindly to my purpose, and I little suspected, that by push­ing the theory a little further, it would, by a like process, prove that there was no need of a God, a Saviour, or a Bible.

At that time my mind was not strong enough to advance thus far, though since I have done it. Upon this part of my history, I am led to remark the danger of indulging in theories upon religion, without recourse to the Bible. I was at that time actually a deist, though I did not suspect it; for I had impiously made the word of God conform to my system, instead of conforming myself to the insallible standard of truth.

My Bible was open more than ever; but it was no longer GOD'S BIBLE. I admired revelation in­deed; but it was only those parts of it, which were an exact transcript of my mind and will, not of God's; and when any doubts arose, I hushed them by the words INTERNAL EVIDENCE, MORAL SENSE. These were universal opiates.

My sleeping visions were full of truth, but this waking vision I shall ever have reason to consider, as a contrivance of Satan, to effect the ruin of my soul. Shall I add, that so strong was my delusion, that with a new gospel, thus made by myself, I had the confidence to propose to be recognized, in the usu­al form of the country, as a minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

MARTIN's CONNEXION.

CLIO proceeds to relate his examination, the questions proposed to him and his answers, in which he conformed totally to his favorite system. The account is so long that I must wave it, and hasten to more interesting scenes. Yet the reader would not pardon me for neglecting what follows, copied from Clio's own mouth.

CLIO'S Account of his Examination.

"I was prompt and confident in my answers, and upon leaving the room, was persuaded, that in a few minutes I should be recalled, and pre­sented with a license, accompanied with many compliments.

"Alas! how little of the Christian did I then feel, expecting that a written paper would make me a preacher of righteousness; and with what earthly rhapsody did I look forward to the next Sabbath, when an admiring audience would be charmed with the eloquence of my tongue, and astonished at my display of classical knowledge. O! that that hour, which has long since flown with intel­ligence of my pride to the recording angel, had been then dark as it now is; but alas! the time is coming, when all our yesterdays shall advance, in solemn state, from the shades of time, and rise up in judgment against us. Though to us they are for ever gone, yet they are ever present to the Ancient of Days. How often have I wished to seize an hour, which had been witness of my sins, and prevent its going to appear against me: but all our past hours are gone, and soon we must fol­low them.

[Page 27] "These are my present reflections; but then I was looking forward to a long train of years, each hour of which was to witness my glory, and the triumph of my genius. But soon was my pride checked, and this oil of gladness turned into the gall of bitterness. Soon was I made to see my folly, and to feel like my kindred dust and ashes; for O! when recalled, can I record the scene? My youthful levity was soon repressed, by the sight of those aged fathers of the church, who were sitting with solemn dignity and christian meekness wait­ing my return. Not to commission me to preach! not to flatter my pride! but to reprove my folly and presumption. Each look went to my heart, and there remains. At length, after a short silence, the most aged rose up; tears fell from his eyes, which I shall ever think, were sacred to the cause of Jesus; and addressed me in such language, as never before came from the lips of man. Each word was like the point of a diamond to my soul; at this moment I feel the depth of the engraving, and there it will remain through eternity. Even angels will see it with pleasure, and men cannot read it without instruction."

ADDRESS to CLIO, from an aged MINISTER.

MY young friend, our aged hearts leap for joy, when we see the sons of the prophets rising up to fill our places. We rejoice to see genius and learn­ing, devoted to the cause of Christianity; but we grieve to see you seduced by principles, which are [Page 28]poisonous to our profession. If you imagined, that your sentiments and discoveries were new, you are much deceived. If you expected that mere human learning would procure our approbation, you mistake our characters. We challenge no right to commission men to preach. That can be derived only from the great Captain of our salva­tion. Men may license you to preach; but they only give you a human power, and can you in your soul think that of any avail? We could only examine, whether you could testify to us a com­mission from above; for remember, that THOUGH BISHOPS CAN MAKE PRIESTS, AND COLLEGES CRE­ATE DOCTORS, GOD ALONE CAN MAKE A CHRIS­TIAN. From the great Head of the church alone do we derive a right to speak in the name of God.

Have you the witness within your own heart? Has Jesus called you to preach? Did you ever hear the voice of the great Shepherd? Has the heavenly Dove ever descended and abode with you? Or did you vainly imagine that the grace of God arrived through the medium of a diploma?

My son, we reproach you not; from our hearts we wish you grace and blessing; but we have to render an account, and cannot, without daring impiety, recommend one to preach a Saviour, whom he has not known?

We judge your sentiments dangerous and cor­rupt, and though we might propose you to the world, as a scholar, we cannot recommend you as a minister of the New Testament. Though we are pleased with the promptness of your genius, and with the amiableness of your manners, yet you seem far from the kingdom of heaven. The fab­ric, which you have raised, has no resemblance to the temple of religion.

[Page 29] I trust, that before you ever preach the gospel, you will pass a scene, of which you appear to have no conception. From our hearts we pray, that it may soon arrive, and that you may see BY THE EYE OF SAVING FAITH, THE TRUTHS OF THE GOSPEL; FOR REMEMBER, THAT THEY ARE SPI­RITUALLY DISCERNED.

MARTIN's CONNEXION.

CLIO retired with a mixture of confusion and resentment. A deadly stroke had been aimed at his pride; yet there was a serious plainness in the address, which filled him with awe. For several days, he was pensive and irresolute. At times he would burst out into the bitterest reproaches against his examiners. He could not bear to renounce his favorite scheme of MORAL SENSE. In its ap­plication to every new subject, something occurred which gratified his pride of science. He resolved, however, to believe the Bible, and to bring down its truths to a level with the understandings of men. In this process, he pared off one incredible after another; till at length the whole Bible was gone. I wave many things, which now occured; they were too painful to his own mind, when I last saw him; but one incident cannot be omitted.

One day, sitting and conversing with him, I took occasion to recal the visions which he had re­lated to me, and the manifest means of Providence in bringing him to a knowledge of the truth. He [Page 30]seemed much agitated for the moment, then took up his Bible, clasped it, and threw it upon his ta­ble with some vehemence, then burst into tears. saying, "My friend, I wish never again to con­verse with you on this subject. I am now resolved, and neither arguments nor visions shall move me. THAT BOOK I GIVE TO FOOLS AND FANATICKS."

After this, he became a man of the world, was totally careless of religion; yet he professed to be­lieve in the being of a God, and in the immortal­ity of the soul. Virgil's account of a future state, he would often say, was far more rational, than the Bible account; and that if he was honest and tolerably moral, he should get safe enough to Elysium.

He found, in a converse with the world, that his favorite system often betrayed him; but could not yet persuade himself to renounce it.—He was ready to dispute with Christians, Deists, or Scep­tics, and could personate either of those characters. He had studied accurately the philosophy of the schools of Athens, and by an happy talent, had so modernised it, that all the wisdom of enlightened Greece appeared his own.

He understood the system of Berkley, and could reduce to decimal fractions, infinitely, the least ap­pearance of matter; could even subdivide atoms so small, that they were invisible to the human eye, and inconceivable by the human mind; or at pleasure he could prove that the whole earth was one conjoint, indivisible, immense atom. He could place the earth on a tortoise, or suspend it in the air; could make it whirl millions of miles in a second, or be totally at rest. He had discovered the weak side of human nature, and was sure of [Page 31]being thought learned, when he conversed, so that no one understood him.

His pride of science was now in its zenith, and by all the ignorant, he was esteemed a prodigy. He did not care to converse with the learned, who practised, as he did, the magic power. No credit was to be gained from those who were in the se­cret. He well knew the jealousy, and enmity, which generally subsists between your great met­aphysical and unfathomable scholars.

He discovered that the loudest talker, and the boldest asserter was generally most applauded; and that the laurels of genius were never to be expect­ed from learned competitors. He reduced these observations to a general principle, which he ap­plied to all arts and professions, forming a complete "SYSTEM OF HUMAN NATURE," which I have in manuscript.

I have no occasion to notice his travels, his books, or his company, only so far, that the reader may trace his pride of science, and the natural con­sequences of infidelity; nor must we forget, that even now were perceivable, in some measure, the effects of a GOOD EARLY EDUCATION. This had an unseen influence, and was finally improved, by the Spirit of God, for his recovery.

His guardian parent seemed to have forsaken him; his visions were no more; all his partial convictions and resolutions forgotten, and he was left to himself. "This earth," he said, "was his present residence, and this life, the only one which he was absolutely sure of: that he was resolved to live, while he did live, and if after he died, another life should be given him, he would make the most of it."

[Page 32] Such conversation often pursued by his friends, at length led him to doubt the immortality of the soul. This alarmed him. He began the enquiry; but as he went from the word of God, he soon got involved in total darkness. He could see no dif­ference in this respect between men and birds, beasts, fishes and insects. All seemed to be rational for all their purposes of life. No one had return­ed from any other world. In fact, having no con­ception of the nature of the soul, he was soon in want of premises: this reduced him to a dearth of argument, and at length he resolved, that the common ideas of immortality were absurd.

His manuscript treatise upon this is long and full of laboured sophistry. He had exerted all the powers of his soul to prove, that he had no soul; but a doubt occurring, how this principle of life could be annihilated, he fell into the doctrine of transmigration. This was long a favorite scheme. He illustrated it clearly (as he thought) by a com­parison between the powers and passions of men, and those of other animals, and fully concluded, that at death, the innocent and good would be changed into doves; the vicious and bad into venomous serpents; the idle and useless into in­significant infects. He pursued the system in this whimsical manner, and for himself resolved to be an eagle.

He was pleased with this change of being, and delighted with this creature of his fancy; he even spent whole nights in drawing conclusions in fav­or of it, from various experiments in anatomy.

I make this short extract, from this part of his manuscript, to shew how wild and distracted men will be in their reasonings, when once they have left the records of truth.

[Page 33] But steep is the descent to the shades of error. Clio was not to rest here. He caught by accident a book in an old library, entitled, "MAN A MA­CHINE," written by La Metrie. This was the very subject which lay next to transmigration. He took it up, merely to gratify curiosity; but the old philosopher understood very well the machinery of man; too well for Clio. From the first page, he was led to the second, and so on through the book. He made no pause, and no conclusions; but half convinced, gave it a second reading, again a third. THE PRIDE OF SCIENCE was touched; he longed to be master of the system; though he was still unresolved to admit it.

But we often reason ourselves into blindness. He reasoned upon the structure of the human bo­dy, of which he had obtained a most accurate knowledge; upon the necessary seat of the living principle; shewed how the nerves conducted mu­sic to the soul, and how all objects of sense con­veyed their impressions. He then reasoned upon the compartments of the brain, and their appro­priate uses; of the effect, which a disordered state of body has upon the soul; of the operations of diet; of the circulation of the blood, &c. &c.

These he would throw out to his adversaries, as mere trials of their skill; then when their argu­ments were exhausted, he would come out with his main body.

This was fortified on every side, by the argu­ments against innate ideas. He would say, if we come into the world without one idea, and if this pretended soul never receives any, except through the senses, have we any argument that the soul is capable of receiving ideas without such a medium? Again, if reflection be destroyed, when a man is [Page 34]stunned, or when one is drowned for a short time, what is this soul but a part of the body? How can it exist separate from it? What is it separately? It is nothing and vanity: it has not half the properties of fixed air. His antagonists being un­able to define their terms against him, were foiled as he was at first, for want of premises.

He would pursue the triumph by remarking how far the opposite doctrine must carry: that it must prove the perpetual existence of the living princi­ple, both in brute animals and vegetables; and he would add with emphasis, if we renounce La Me­trie's principle, even the stones of the street would be immortal, and we might expect to see rocks in a course of ages, rising into rational life, and haranguing an audience of rivers and forests.

When he was rallied upon these flights, he would coolly lead his antagonists into the old doc­trine of the schools, OF AN UNIVERSAL ATTRACT­ING PRINCIPLE OF LIFE, IN THE CENTRE OF THE MORAL WORLD; would assert that all living nature was drawn by it from lower to higher grades, thro' eternity; here he would lead them from the lowest vegetable up to the highest existence; and as they could seldom follow him, through all the mazes of natural history, they were soon lost and confound­ed, and the triumph was completely his own.

Clio longed to make this last theory his own; but it would lead him too far back, and his bent was forward; he was for ANNIHILATION. Long had he left his favorite system of moral sense, and was too proud to look back.

The ground was now his own, and he could walk through regions of fancy, before untrod by man.

[Page 35] Alas! how many thousands have left the fair surface of truth and evidence, to explore mines and caverns! How many have forsaken the culti­vated grounds of knowledge, and the abodes of rational society, to explore desarts, or forests, in which was never heard the voice of man.

I have recorded these things of Clio so minutely, as this was a most interesting part of his life; and as it opens a scene, perhaps unparalleled on our records, of the intricate wisdom of God.

Whatever affords new proofs of an over-ruling Providence, and shews his influence upon the minutest actions of men, in operating his pur­poses of grace, has a tendency to inspire us with christian gratitude and admiration.

Those, who have not read the ancient systems of philosophy, may here have noticed some of their leading traits. I wished to pursue them only far enough to lead the mind of the reader to a con­viction of their fallacy and sophistry, and to con­clude with me, that THE WISDOM OF GOD MUST REGULATE AND DIRECT THE RESEARCHES OF MEN.

Though Clio was now, in his own conception, like a stock or a stone, yet, be not surprised, that he afterwards fell into universal infidelity; and to crown all, and make the system complete, became an Atheist. His own account now follows, writ­ten near the close of his life. ^*

CLIO an ATHEIST.

—SHOULD my history ever reach the light, may it be a lesson to the youths who shall follow me!

In early life, I was a victim to the pride of sci­ence. The knowledge, which I derived from my parents, was exerted to prove, that no respect was to be paid to their parental instruction. My know­ledge, derived from the Bible, was exerted to prove that Bible false. Then all these acquirements were employed as rebels to my God, my Saviour, and my Bible, in supporting the cause of their bitter­est enemy.

I even endeavored to gain the influence of the officers of heaven, that I might be a secure spy in the camp of Jesus.

At length I impiously renounced my Bible to fools and fanatics. I even improved the immor­tal faculties of my soul, to prove that my soul was formed of dust and ashes, and gloried in the pros­pect of eternal sleep. I made stocks and stones my brethren and sisters, and improved the breath which God had breathed into my nostrils, to con­vince the world, that my breath was my own. Worse than all, I improved not only the light of my mind, but even the seven golden candlesticks, to light me into the glooms of heathenish igno­rance and superstition.

THIS WAS AT A TIME, WHEN I LOVED DARK­NESS RATHER THAN LIGHT. WHEN MY EYES COULD NOT ENDURE THE CELESTIAL GLORY OF THE BRIGHT AND THE MORNING STAR.

[Page] Why should I then retain God in my know­ledge, when I had denied his wisdom, his word, his providence and his works? Without these there is no God. I did not do it. I was a consistent in­fidel, and pursued my principles to the very gates of hell. On my principles there was no need of a God; for I then could as well have conceived of matter self-existent, self-created and eternal, as of a being with all these attributes, capable of creating it, with all its forms and modifications. I will not proceed; it is enough that I denied the God who made me, that I erected atheism upon the foundation of infidelity. I boast not that I understood the economy of Satan's kingdom, and that I was his master-builder; perhaps the only one, who ever made use of all his materials, in erecting to the pinnacle, a temple of his worship. The time is come, when I lie low and feel humble for these distractions. Pity, O! my friends, the weakness of my youth; but rejoice with me now, since the Spirit of the Lord hath touched me.

MARTIN's CONNEXION.

CLIO has so frequently interwoven the early and latter scenes of his life, that I am often oblig­ed to interrupt his own narration, to preserve a clear connexion in the mind of the reader.

We are now to contemplate Clio in the depth of infidelity. He could get no farther from moral light. But this was to be his tropic, from which [Page 38]we shall see him gradually advancing back. With what heart-rending eloquence has Clio often des­cribed to me the state of his mind, at this gloomy period. I must reluctantly omit to record it, and leave the reader to pursue the thought.

Clio, by a fortunate accident, took up the writ­ings of old Python, master of the sceptical school in Athens; this he read with pleasure, and became persuaded to doubt of every thing. He had never reflected, that upon moral subjects, the world have agreed to adopt certain first principles, which no man can dispute more fairly, than he can the let­ters of the alphabet. Old Python had proposed a great number of the plainest first principles, and challenged all the other schools, to support any one of them, by abstract reasoning. Knowing, that this could never be done, he had proceeded to shew, that the great truths in all the sciences were only arbitrary axioms, which owed their support to the credulity of man; that truth itself was but a relative term, and that any man of tolerable acuteness might confound any subject, or any reasoner, by denying his first principle, and obliging him to attempt the proof of it.

Here Python proceeded to record his victories over the logicians of his day. Clio was convinced, not reflecting that a true disciple of Python must doubt the truth of what he wrote. He became a Sceptic, which is one grade better than an Atheist, for IT IS BETTEK TO DOUBT, WHETHER THERE BE A GOD, THAN TO BELIEVE THAT THERE IS NO GOD. Clio had some secret wish to live beyond this state of being, and endeavored to refine so far upon scepticism, that when he actually died, he might always be in doubt, whether he was or was not dead.

[Page] He was struck with the absurdity of this, and turning about to pursue the principle, among the different doctrines of religion, and systems of phi­losophy in the world, he resolved to sap their foun­dations, and to make them totter. He ought to have doubted his strength; but here we shall see the Spirit of God, beginning to operate upon him. We shall see it improving, for his recovery, those very faculties, which Satan had before employed for his ruin. Even this pride of science was im­proved as a leading instrument. Here let us pause a moment, that we may notice, with all due atten­tion, the wisdom of God; for we shall soon see, in Clio's conversion, how he improves not only good early education, but even pride and other perverse pas­sions, to accomplish his purposes. "Even the wrath of man shall praise God."

Clio was now zealously engaged to attack the systems which he had formerly advocated, when a doubt arose in his mind, whether his former deci­sions upon them had been just. This led him back through all the different subjects, which we have noticed; recalled to him his visions; doubts in­creased; he seemed to see truth on both sides; his mind was perplexed; he retired to rest, and had the following vision, which is recorded in his own words.^*

CLIO alarmed in the midst of his Delusions.

—THOUGH my eyes were closed upon every earthly object, yet I seemed sitting by my desk, wrapt in thought, and holding in my hand "THE ANALYSIS OF HEATHEN PHILOSOPHY." At [Page 40]once my father seemed to stand by me and to say, "My son, have you drank of the waters of oblivion? Is your memory dead to all your past life?" He paused. I endeavored to conceal the book. Says he, "Is that your Bible?" My face was like crimson. He continued, "My child, how many sons and daughters have you made converts to the truth of the gospel?" Great drops of sweat rolled from my face, and I fainted—On opening my eyes, my fath­er's countenance was softened. On my desk lay an open Bible, from which seemed to proceed rays, filling the room with a blaze of light. I cast my eye upon the book, and saw St. John's history of the crucifixion. There was a solemn pause for a few minutes! My father then pointed to the book, saying, "Think you, my son, that to no purpose the vail of the temple was rent in twain? that the rocks burst asunder, and that the groans of Jesus were heard from the top of Calvary?" He then recalled to my mind, the innocence of my early life, the purity of my thoughts, and indeed every scene, which could have a tendency to restore me to my duty. He plead with heart-melting eloquence, the tears of a mother, the fate of infidels, and the joy of angels at the return of a sinner. He as­sured me, that he had watched me every moment, since his first appearance; though he had not been permitted to discover himself till this; that my errors were to be a lesson to the youths of after times, and that the wisdom and goodness of God, now to be exhibited, would give joy and triumph to the aged, who relied on the promises.

He added, "My son, I shall now depart, and you will not see me again, while you live; but remember that your days are numbered. You have a steep ascent to climb, but you will have assistance infinitely better [Page 41]than mine. Watch the motions of the Spirit, and when you shall come into marvellous light, with what grati­tude will you adore him, who has brought you from the depth of darkness! Your feet will be finally taken from slippery places and set upon the rock; but first, my son, you will see much distress and affliction. Your hard heart will be softened; your sensibility restored and improved. You will often despond, and your eyes will become as fountains of tears. You will be re­duced to poverty, and every kind of distress, and will be sometimes almost wishing that death would give you relief. Into whatever employment you may be led, dur­ing this scene of trial, be honest and diligent, for if you endure, you will yet be a minister of the gospel, able to divide rightly the word of truth. Then be faithful to the death and you shall receive a crown of life."

MARTIN's CONNEXION.

CLIO proceeds to relate the parting scene be­tween his guardian angel and himself; the im­pressions of the vision, after he awoke; the [...] fulfilment of the prophecy, in which he gives a minute detail of all his distresses. He notices the Providence of God, in saving his life, and preserv­ing him through many accidents; and the various indirect means, by which the Spirit of God operat­ed on his heart. He relates how he gradually re­acquired a speculative belief of the gospel. I have [Page 42]waved all these things, and hasten to the time, when I next saw him after several years separation. Though his principal object of pursuit was preach­ing, yet he still suggested some doubts, whether a good and merciful Being would not finally place all the frail descendants of Adam in heaven, and in his gloomy moments would suggest some doubts whether we were absolutely sure of a resurrection. How the truth, upon these two important subjects, was ushered into his mind, we shall soon see.

In all the future writings of Clio, we shall dis­cover a rising of soul, an elevation of thought, a manliness of feeling, and a tenderness of heart, which cannot fail to interest the reader, and to con­vince us all that "we shall never look upon his like again."^*

CLIO, an INSTRUCTOR of YOUTH.

—IT pleased the divine Spirit, by a most singular method, to give me light on the subject of future rewards and punishments. I was appoint­ed an instructor of youth. Warm in my imagi­nation, I thought that moral suasion alone was to be used; that schools were nurseries for heaven, and that as punishments would not be inflicted in the last, they ought not to be in the first.

I undertook the task, as promising me an honest competence: was faithful to my employers; the children seemed as my own, and hours were not counted. My heart was in my business, and I re­joiced [Page 43]in the prospect of presenting to my country, a long list of useful men, who should rise up to fill the places of the aged and dying. In my profes­sion was neither brilliancy nor honor; but I fond­ly hoped, that those on whom I expended my life and health, would, after I was cold, rise up and call me blessed. I wished, that on the stone which should cover my remains, might be inscribed, "Here lies a man, who sacrificed his life to the infant interests of his country, and found an early grave; but he was full of days, if we count them by his sorrows, his pains, his miseries, and the vicissitudes of his life. Here he lies low in death; let the tears of a grateful public moisten his grave."

I then thought, as I now do, that "HE DE­SERVES NO STONE TO RECORD HIS NAME, WHO LEAVES NO ACTION TO ENDEAR HIS MEMORY."—With a heart warm as the world is cold, and having ever in view the end of life, I pursued the thought, and con­templated the serious time, when followed by those who were mine in the strictest bonds of nature, duty and affection, I should be carried to the house appointed for all living. Then a long train of parents would follow, leading the children of my care, all in solemn silence, paying a tribute to my memory, more durable and precious than mon­uments of marble.

These I have found vain illusions, mere waking "visions of a baseless fabric;" yet for the time, they gave joy to my heart, strengthened my hands, and led me to exertions beyond the powers of na­ture. In my days, I had not leisure for the com­mon recreations of lise; my nights were sleeplessly spent in preparations for the morning; yet my [Page 44]mind was active, my imagination bright, and my soul feelingly alive to all my duties.

At this crisis, I imprudently denied to nature, the repose which she required, my health failed, and I became a subject of pain and gloom. All the festivities of life were courted. I resorted to brilliancy and gaiety, and indulged in scenes of humor for relief. All was in vain. If I smiled! it was like the lightning of the heavens, which leaves the eye in more "intimate darkness." It was a transient gleam of brightness on the face, which brings no warmth to the heart. How oft, that I might not give pain to a friend, have I re­tired, where no eye could see me, to commune with my own heart, and to ask from it that relief which the world could not give.

In moments of gloom, all the painful images which through life have been seen, all the ghosts of departed actions, appear at once, shewing their hideous spectres to the eye of the soul. All the malicious demons, who had aimed cruel stabs at the reputation, now present anew their poinards, and "grin horribly a ghastly smile," insulting the wretch's woe.

The whole scene is beyond description; even the half cannot be told you; yet the whole was mine. They only know the pangs of death, who have felt its sting.

At scenes like these, we ask no tears from mar­ble eyes—no blood to flow with quick emotion in marble veins—no heart of stone to beat—no iron breast to heave with sighs, nor tongue of steel to speak; but they who can feel, will feel, and the tears of sensibility will flow; they will moisten the manly cheek, and stream from the glistening eye, when the hand which holds this pen shall be no more.

MARTIN's CONNEXION.

I MIGHT go on, and lead the reader through scenes, more interesting to Clio, than any which have been related; but this would lead me from the immediate subject before us.

Clio had tried the experiment of mild govern­ment, till he was fully convinced that it was ruin­ous; but he had said so much in favor of it, that many had been persuaded to believe as he had done. To alter his mode was difficult and painful. If he even gave a harsh word, he offended a friend; if he spared the rod, he spoiled the child; and if he used the rod, the child was taken from him. He experienced much ingratitude, and was perplexed beyond measure. It was not his fault, but mis­fortune that he lived, surrounded, by many, who had no conception of the nice and acute springs of a feeling heart. Amidst their daggers and his own doubts, he was in a most unhappy state, when he had the following vision.

Of a SCHOOL.

I RETIRED late to rest, harassed with care: my limbs were indeed reposed; but my mind was never more wakeful. It was winter, and the sea­son [Page 46]peculiarly severe; but I seemed instantly con­veyed into a beautiful garden, where fruits and flowers were in perfection. The heat seemed in­tense, and I resorted to an arbour for shade. My ears were soon saluted by a concert of the most musical voices, seemingly of children. My curi­osity led me to follow the sound, which appeared to retire as I advanced. They were sweet notes, and I was desirous to know what celestial choirs had resorted to this retirement. I walked on hast­ily through a vale enamelled with flowers: if I trod upon a rose, it drooped for the moment, but soon raised its blushing head with improved beau­ty and fragrance. I must pause a moment to no­tice the kindness of Providence, in giving us such active fancies, capable of enjoying the beauties of nature in idea, when in truth the season had in­vested, with frost and snow, the whole face of the earth. TO FANCY, TO WHIM, AND OFTEN TO FALLACY, ARE WE INDEBTED FOR HAPPINESS.

I reached the place, from which the sound pro­ceeded, and found a large school of boys and girls, chanting a morning hymn to the praise of their Creator. There was an elegance in their appear­ance, and a serene smile upon their faces, such as I had never seen among my own children. I entered without hesitation. The master, who seemed, at first sight, created to take such a charming school, beckoned me to take a seat by him.

The music ceased, and all fell upon their knees, raising their eyes, in the act of fervent devotion. The master then addressed the throne of grace, in a few words, most pertinent and striking. All rose; there was a perfect silence; all commenced their employments, which they pursued with dili­gence. If the master spoke, every ear was atten­tive [Page 47]and every thing proceeded with perfect ease and harmony. This, I thought, proves that my former ideas were just; but I will enquire how this effect is produced.

I proposed my questions, and suggested the em­barrassments, which I had experienced in attempt­ing to form such a school, and added, I shall al­ways in future, conclude the fault to have been in myself, "Who could even frown on such inno­cents? What monsters are they who cruelly in­flict punishment on children?" I am ashamed now to repeat all which I then said; but as I was closing a laboured panegyric on my own sagacity, and knowledge of the effect of moral truth upon the young mind, every thing seemed changed in an instant. The master assumed the appearance of an angel, and the children looked like cherubs and seraphs. The angel then addressed me. To such alone can your principles apply with truth. These are pure spirits, and this scene is all designed for your instruction. He then opened to me in clear and explicit terms, the doctrine of rewards and punishments, and taught me the wisdom of God in ordaining them, and their fitness to the nature of man. How many poor wretches, says he, have been disgracefully sent out of this world, into a worse, from the mere neglect of early discipline and control. Youth is the season, when the rough and boisterous pas­sion may be subdued, and if this season be neglected, the life will be like a garden, where the growth of every useful thing is prevented by a multitude of weeds and brambles.

He then added, "GO AND CONDUCT LIKE A FAITHFUL GARDENER." I waked, fully impressed with the vision, and for several days revolved over the actual government of the King of the universe, [Page 48]as it is discovered in his Providence, and in revela­tion. At length I established a conviction, that pun­ishments as well as threats were necessary for man, and that it was vain to expect the reason to assist my former theory, till this reason should control the passions. My visions were not the visions of my employers, nor my convictions, their convic­tions. They still saw the subject through the perverted medium of affection, which always re­fracts the rays of truth.

MARTIN's CONNEXION.

CLIO has said much more upon this subject. He was persuaded, and I forbear to record the conse­quences of this persuasion, only this—Each of his children was the father's cherub, or the mother's se­raph; and he needed the wisdom of an angel to please and to do his duty. On the last, he resolv­ed, and failing of the first, was dismissed from em­ploy.

His health soon failed him, and he was confined to his bed, for several months, except a few hours, when supported in his chair, he wrote the two suc­ceeding visions, which, out of many, he had select­ed; for his mind being much agitated, he was frequently lost in thought, when awake; yet his soul was more active than ever; his sensibility im­proved, and though he believed the immortality of the soul, yet some doubts remained, that were dis­pelled in a manner, which the reader will perceive to have all the appearances of a revelation from heaven.^*

IMMORTALITY of the SOUL.

HOW little do I value this emaciated body? It is welcome to return home, if my soul can have the same privilege. Surely some guardian angel watches my slumbers, and seizes the moment, when all my passions are asleep, to teach my reason the most sacred truths. O that my prejudice, error and pride would never wake!

If this be sickness, let me be sick, till death, for scarcely do I sink into the arms of sleep, when some unseen power presents to me the sublimest visions.

The last I cannot describe; it surpasses my strength and the powers of my pen.

Could I have written at the instant of the im­pression, my lines had been full of fire, they would have warmed every heart, not with poetic fire! No! for the genuine feelings of the soul, at such en­trancing seasons, scorn the aids of art, and the pris­on of measured lines. They burst forth with in­spiration, and delight to be arrayed in the slowing robes and charming dignity of prose.

Can that soul be mortal, which is composed of such heaven-wrought materials? Shall that soul die, which can for a season bid adieu to the senses and the clay, and soar to scenes immeasurably dis­tant? No! "The dust shall return to its kindred dust; but the spirit shall return to God who gave it."

At such moments would I have wasted a wish to be sure of immortality? No! I felt myself already [Page 50]in actual possession of eternal being, full of princi­ples of life, which death can never destroy, nor the grave diminish.

Such was my confidence, that had the choice been my own, I would never have been reunited to the forsaken mass. As soon would angels leave their seats of bliss, their golden harps unstrung, their blest society forgot, and ask for human bodies to inhabit this vile earth again. But to them how little is this world! its pomps, it pleasures and its nonsense all! The crowns of monarchs, and the wealth of worlds, how trifling in their view!

But heaven is their blest abode, and there will they rejoice to dwell for ever. That world will never want for songs, nor God for praise. There shall daily arrive, from these lower courts, after a triumphant flight from sense and pain, the spirits of the just. There shall cherubs ever smile, and seraphs ever burn before the throne of God.

Shall flimsy argument, shall subtle sophistry, and nice-wrought scepticism unsoul the man, and reduce to a level with the lower creation, the image of God? Shall not the soul of the mother meet the soul of the child in the world of glory? Shall not the son, who in youth was sunk into a watry grave, see his father again? Yes! The graves shall give up their dead, and friends, who parted with aching hearts, shall meet in a world, where tears shall be wiped from every eye.

But I must return to the body! must stay yet a little longer; but in prayer will I watch each rising sun, and swift in duty hail it to its setting.

Days, months and years shall roll on without regret. Fain would I seize the minutes of my to-morrows, and draw myself to heaven; but I [Page 51]must wait till my change come. Death will never appal me; for I know, that even in the dark val­ley of its shadow, I shall see beams of light from the sun of righteousness.

In sickness I will rejoice; even with present pains will be glad. Each pang will I regard as the beck­oning of an angel; for as the body retires, the soul advances, and with one effort more I shall be gone.

With a most ardent exertion I sprang; but the body had enchained me. I was still its prisoner, and could not burst the bands of life. I reached not the celestial goal. I sprung not into heaven, but back to earth, and found myself awake, repeat­ing with prodigious energy "LET OTHERS BOAST THAT THEY ARE BRUTES, I GLORY THAT I'M A MAN. LET OTHERS WISH FOR ETERNAL SLEEP, I SHALL BE FOR EVER AWAKE. LET OTH­ERS WASTE THEIR GOLDEN HOURS IN PROVING THAT GOD IS FALSE, I FEEL SOMETHING WITH­IN, WHICH PROVES THAT HIS WORD IS TRUE. THOUGH OTHERS CONSIGN SOUL AND BODY TO THE DUST, THE CLODS OF THE VALLEY CANNOT COVER MY SOUL. NO! LEGIONS OF ANGELS CAN'T CONFINE ME TO THE GRAVE. MY BODY WAS DESIGNED FOR THE DUST; BUT MY SOUL WILL INHERIT THE WORLD OF SOULS! ALAS! WHAT IS LIFE, IF WE LIVE NOT FOR EVER!"

MARTIN's CONNEXION.

BUT with all this confidence, Clio was not yet ready for an angel's wings, nor could he, with jus­tice, adopt the triumphant song of the dying Christian: but a scene now opens, which closes and completes the character. He wrote the follow­ing, with four other interesting visions, and a ser­mon, which he heard from the angel of charity, just before his death; but at present I quit the sub­ject, with recording the triumphs of the Spirit of God, over all his doubts and fears.

The TEMPLE of RELIGION.

IN the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon man, methought I was transported in­to a region beyond mortal view, and there beheld wonders, which no tongue can relate and no pen describe.

But perhaps a faint description may entertain the inquisitive, may warm the cold, and lead the minds of the young and the aged, to that most in­teresting subject, which excited my thoughts.

I found myself on an extensive plain, surround­ed by multitudes of people, all crowding forward. The throng was prodigious, and each neglectful of his neighbour, was only solicitous to advance himself.

These were of all ages, sexes, colours, nations and languages on earth. Astonished at such a mingled group, and wondering at the object of their zealous pursuit, being unable to retire, and curious to be satisfied, I pressed forward with the rest.

When, lo! at once my eyes were struck with the sight of a magnificent building: It was large enough to contain all the families of the earth, and my first thought was, that the Father of the uni­verse had erected it, that he might assemble in one place all his children. I was transported with joy at being so near the door of my father's house. I had passed no valley of the shadow of death, and imagined that the time was come, when from all [Page 54]the winds of heaven, were collecting the sons and daughters of the Lord Jehovah.

Elevated with the thought, I contemplated all the promises and prophecies of our religion; and was, for the time convinced, that this was no other than a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.

On our arrival, I perceived that this building was surrounded by numberless little chapels, into which the multitude crowded with eagerness. They soon dispersed, and I was left alone to examine the place. I found over each an inscription. Some were sacred to Mahomet; some to Paul, Apollos and Cephas; and among the rest, was astonished to find one to the unknown God; but more to see it crowded by innumerable votaries. While I was musing upon these things, one, in the likeness of a man, approached me, and said, "Know that this is the temple of religion. The chapel by which you stand is frequented by those, who have not God in their knowledge. The others are zealous partizans; their doors are ever thrown wide open, and there are some always at the entrance, to bec­kon in strangers, and to increase their numbers. He then pointed me to several, who constantly em­ployed some of their number, compassing sea and land, to make proselytes." As we passed along, I was solicited at every door to enter: persuasive motives were used to no purpose; for I was anxi­ous to get within the great temple. As we came round to the door, I perceived it locked, and over it, in plain letters—

TO GOD AND TO THE LAMB.

I proposed to my guide, why the doors were shut. He replied, "This is a faint, earthly em­blem [Page 55]of the things which shall be hereafter; for in the city which is to come, there is no material temple, for the Lord God almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it; but here shall, in no wise, enter any thing that defileth: for holiness becomes God's house for ever.

Thousands of those, whom you have seen, are daily applying for admission; but few obtain it. The many plead their zeal in the service of God; but this zeal is not according to knowledge. They plead their works; but these have been done to please men, and not with a single eye to the glory of the Giver of life. They plead their prayers and alms; but these have never come up in memorial before God; they have not fed the hungry, nor clothed the naked, nor visited the sick, nor the prisoner. They have not sold their goods, and given to the poor; they have not comforted the mourner, nor afforded relief to the dying; but they have lived in luxury and vanity; they have hoard­ed up the mammon of this world; they have pam­pered their lusts and lived deceitfully. They have harboured malice, envy, hatred, bitterness, and ev­ery evil thing: yea, some have said there is no God, and have denied the Lord that bought them; yet with all these abominations, they wish to enter this holy temple. But how gladly would they re­turn to their parties and their lusts, rather than en­dure the society of the happy beings within, for here, the high praises of God employ every tongue and gratitude to the Redeemer fills every heart. Their chapels are filled with men pleasers, who say, Lord, Lord, merely to be heard of men, and lift up their eyes to heaven, that they may seem to pray; but he, whose eyes are as a flame of fire, [Page 56]sees their hypocrisy, and will cause them to fear and tremble in the day of his wrath.

While he was speaking, the clouds had been gathering, and at this moment, the war of ele­ments began, and I was almost petrified with fear. Never was a scene so full of terror; yet my guide was calm and serene, unruffled at the impending storm. I noticed, as a flash of lightning gleamed across his face, if seemed to remain, and he shone with the brightness of the sun, and appeared like a burning seraph. Till this time of life, I had never known such an excess of fear. The rolling of a distant thunder had always filled me with a solemn serenity; but now in awful terror, the lightning flashed upon my astonished eyes, and the thunder, peal on peal, seemed rending heaven and earth, ready to burst upon my devoted head. I had just breath to cry for mercy. I fainted, fell, and seemed to be no more—But I recovered, and at the moment of standing on my feet, was hasting for shelter, to one of those chapels. All, so far as I could see, were beckoning me to enter. As I was running towards them, on a sudden the thunder crashed them to atoms, and sent to instant death all their votaries! But the great temple was unhurt, and appeared much more august and mag­nificent, than when surrounded by those chapels. All was vision, but to me seemed reality. My guide, seeing the agitation of my soul, by the scenes which had passed, took me by the hand, and said, "Know that I am the angel of charity, who am entrusted with the keys of this temple," They, who were in those chapels, thought themselves safe, and were triumphing over their neighbours, in the vain imagination, that their own house stood strong, [Page 57]at the very moment when the thunder burst upon them. They would all have offered you shelter; but had you believed them, see where you would have been. Adore then that goodness which struck you to the earth; for had your own strength per­mitted, you would have been lying among yon ruins; he, who heareth prayer, heard your feeble cry for mercy, as you fell, and you are now alive, never to fear again; for behold! here he waved his hand towards the heavens, I cast up mine eyes, and lo! the clouds were dispersing, the rainbow of the covenant appeared, and in the midst one like unto the Son of man, "having on his head a crown of gold, and in his right hand seven stars, and his countenance was as the sun shined in his strength," and he said with a voice of infinite mildness, and a look of ineffable tenderness, "In my father's house are many mansions."

At this moment the angel opened the door of the temple, and beckoned me to enter, saying, Lo! here are they whom no thunders appal. They could look unmoved at the wreck of nature. They have all passed the scene which you have endured, and are now perpetually serene. Without you will be exposed to frequent storms; for those chapels, lo! they are already rebuilt, and will be again demolished. To me they appeared indeed rebuilt on the old ruins, and the dead bodies. They seemed larger than before, and all again filled.

The angel again beckoned me to enter. I fell upon my knees, with unspeakable humility, and consciousness of my demerit, saying, "My heaven­ly Father, thou knowest that I am not worthy to enter under this roof; but I will for ever remain thus at the steps of thine house." The angel took [Page 58]me by the hand, and said, "Thy Saviour is worthy: thou hast given a cup of cold water to a disciple in his name; he is a faithful Saviour, and thou shalt not lose thy reward. Then he led me into THE TEMPLE OF RELIGION, WHERE, WITH FILIAL REVERENCE AND HEART­FELT AWE, I JOINED THE BLESSED SO­CIETY OF THOSE, WHOSE DAYS WERE DEVOTED, AND WHOSE HEARTS WERE DEDICATED TO THE SERVICE OF GOD AND THE LAMB.

MARTIN's CONNEXION.

I WAS standing by his bed, when he awoke from this vision: his health was at this time wholly departed, and while awake, he was often the sub­ject of acute pain. The first words which he pronounced, shewed that he had a confused idea of being still in a school, as he repeated

Upon recovering he seemed insensible to pain; his soul was healed, and he was calm. There was a divine mildness, and a placid smile on his face. A celestial lustre seemed to sparkle from his eyes, and he ceased to have a mortal look. I feared, for the moment, that his breath was about to leave [Page 59]him, and was much affected with the thought; for our souls had been knit together. He recov­ered, but the vision had nearly overpowered him. To him, it has had all the effect of reality, and he afterwards assured me, that had I known all, there was no occasion for alarm; for if he appeared to be dying, it was but a few moments before, that he received the new breath, which can never leave him: that he then just commenced to live the life of angels, and to anticipate the innocence, the knowledge, the holiness and employments of heav­en. With his new breath, he received new lan­guage, to record which, is beyond my power. He talked with ecstacy of the work of redemption, and ever reflected with Christian gratitude, on the means of the Spirit, in bringing him to a saving knowledge of the truth.

But when he spoke of the joy, which his arrival in heaven would afford his father, and how all the ascended heirs of glory would rejoice at the return of a repenting sinner: When he conversed of those with whom he should spend an eternity, how would his eyes stream with tears of rapture, Ye, who have experienced what Clio felt; ye, who are in Christ, his brethren and sisters, can best conceive his feelings and language.

BY THIS HISTORY, MAY PARENTS BE INDUCED TO TRAIN UP THEIR CHILDREN IN THE WAY THEY SHOULD GO. MAY YOUTHS BE WARNED NOT TO INDULGE IN VAIN IMAGINATIONS ABOUT ETERNAL CONCERNS, AND MAY ALL BE PERSUAD­ED TO RELY ON THAT DIVINE SPIRIT, WHICH RAISED CLIO EVEN FROM THE DEPTHS OF INFI­DELITY, INTO THE ELEVATED RANK OF THE BRETHREN OF JESUS, AND INTO THE DISTIN­GUISHED HONOR OF THE SONS OF GOD.