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of Neander's sentence-"The faith which has faced difficulties is a far higher faith than that which studiously ignores them."

These were not the only difficult lessons of the Christian life that he learnt in this humble school. Writing of Sherfield, he says :

"While I was at this place, an incident occurred which, although slight and common in itself, had another most important effect on my spiritual life. One of my hearers had aspersed the character of another. In reproving her for it, I referred to the import and obligation of the second commandment, which she had violated. While I was thus speaking, a vivid and piercing conviction flashed upon me that I myself had been violating this sacred law ever since I had been a Christian. I have no words to express the intense shame and penitence which this conviction produced. My numerous violations of this sovereign law were recalled to my mind with alarming brightness of thought, and produced quite a radiance of terror. The side of my mind towards the blessed God had, indeed, often beamed with devotion and love; but the side of it towards man had been defective in tenderness and humility of feeling and speech. I had scorned the abilities of inferior men, and had been in the habit of marking with keen and cool

severity the mortal defects of good people. I did not know until now that I had been guilty of such sins. I was in as much penitent distress, though not in such a wilderness of troubled thought, as at the time of my conversion. I felt that these sins had placed me in a proud and hateful opposition to the mind of my Saviour. Most fervently did I pray for pardon and renovation, and never were my prayers more distinctly answered. These unsanctified tempers began to melt away before that divine light and power which revealed their existence: since that time it has been easy and delightful to honour and love my fellow-creatures. I was converted to the spirit of the second commandment."

If any have read this last extract hastily, it would be a wise thing to read it again; for, most certainly, the more we are inclined to think such sentiments insipid and common-place, the more do our spirits need to be brought under their influence. We have slighted Christ's law of brotherly love; we are in danger of becoming so acclimatised to the atmosphere of censoriousness, as not to know that we are censorious; in danger of losing that delicate holiness of feeling which will lead us to detect the presence and

deplore the evil of this crying social sin. It may do us lasting good, if we pause to take in the full meaning of these sentiments; sentiments whose constant force made him who uttered them, what every disciple should be-a searching perfectionist only with reference to himself; with reference to others, all patience, gentleness, and hope.

His labours amidst scenes like those which have been described were occasionally relieved by visits to Salisbury and Devizes, where he had circles of friends by whom he was greatly prized. They yet call to mind the skill-fresh, gracious, and affectionate-by which he sought to heal the wounds of the heart, and to remove the doubts of the speculative thinker; how clearly he would argue; with what warm, compassionate sympathy he would plead; how, when one of the company would try to parry the thrust of an argument by what looked like a mere ingenious artifice of debate, he would rise, take him by the hand, and implore him to be in earnest. They remember his passion for truth, his delightful turns of expression, and the overflowing ardour of his Christian love. They seem to see him now,

the spiritual fire sparkling in his eyes, lighting up his thin, pale, pain-worn features, and sometimes glowing in the rich scintillations of genius which shot along the chain of his logical reasonings. They remember especially his prayerstheir faith, their deep spirit of reverence, their indescribable earnestness, making those who knelt with him to feel that the presence of "the King invisible" was a vivid reality; so that even a little child would say, "He is speaking to somebody in the room."


Cast as a broken vessel by,

Thy work I can no longer do;

But while a daily death I die,

Thy power I may in weakness show;

My patience may thy glory raise,

My speechless woe proclaim thy praise."

Charles Wesley.


IN 1823, Mr. Rhodes was seized with a fever, and for six months wavered between life and death. He never entirely recovered from the effects of this calamity. From this time, there was not merely a weakness, but an organic and incurable defect of speech: he was to be nerveless and weary to the end of his days. Judging from appearances, even long after he had left the sick chamber, it might have been said, "His

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