run into excess. He had formidable powers of sarcastic banter-and, sometimes in the full play of his great strength, was in danger of indulging his raillery till the infliction became severe. But in his later days, it was beautiful to see how grace and growing gentleness had mellowed and restrained his former tendencies. I can scarcely say that I have seen any one suffer from his jocular sallies: and often have I observed, towards his weliknown and dear friends, the exceeding kindness of his heart well up in a sparkling effusion of gentle and genuine humour.

He had a high and scrupulously delicate sense of the honourable in human dealings, and a corresponding dislike of the little and the mean. In the intercourse of society, he was considerately and kindly urbane. He had an instinctive regard for the substantial courtesies of life. Without the superficial polish of mere etiquette, he was every way gentlemanly in the sense in which the epithet may be honourably applied to a Christian man.

I must notice one marked characteristic more. He had a large share of public spirit. He was no noisy politician; yet he took an earnest, enlightened interest in the progress of national affairs, and regarded the claims of Christianity as by no means superseding, but rather including and enforcing the duties of citizenship. His sentiments on political questions were warmly liberal. He was a devout observer of God's doings in providence, and had great delight in studying the events of his time in the light of the prophecies and the principles of the Word of God. He was fond of preaching, now and then, as occasion was ministered to him by passing occurrences of moment, what he used to call a public sermon; bringing the declarations of Scripture to bear upon the providential aspects of the day. On such occasions, he generally rose into his most elevated and impassioned strain; and led the hearer to feel with what ardour and power his mind would have entered into the contendings of reformation times.

He

As a preacher, and in the class to which he belonged, Dr Stark was equalled by few. He was not imaginative-whatever value that quality may be supposed to have. Fancy he had almost none. very rarely introduced figures-and when he did, though the metaphor was appropriate and the description exact, yet the very accuracy had an air of stiffness about it, which showed that the mind was not now ranging in a congenial field. His figures did not spring up in his pathway like living flowers-blossoming and fragrant as they came. But in respect of sound, substantial, scriptural exhibition of truth-clear, full, and strong, his dis

courses were all that could be desired. Their chief characteristics were grasp of thought-wise discrimination — copiousness of scriptural illustration, by quotation or allusion-the introduction of striking, terse remarks on cited passages-solemn power of appeal; and a grave and elevated unction pervading all. His Lectures were

of that class which deals not so much with words, phrases, and the niceties of expression, as with the main and leading ideas of the passage, evolving and elucidating these. His Sermons were expansive, full of matter, rich, savoury, searching. There was a peculiar felicity in his exhibitions of the way of salvation to the perishing sinner. Nothing could be more lucid, simple, affecting or persuasive. His manner was admirable. His tone, emphasis, and gesture were throughout natural, correct, impressive. A very slight stutter-or rather rapidity of enunciation, which occasionally forced itself on him, rather enhanced than impaired the effect. When excited, his voice and action had prodigious power. At such times every hearer must have felt himself under the sway of a commanding eloquence. His whole appearance in the pulpit was befittingly grave, earnest, graceful, dignified. The manner helped to impress and illumine the matter-never to lead away from it. In this respect he might be regarded as a model. A wellknown master of elocution was accustomed to speak of his pulpit address, as the best example he had met with of effective natural oratory; and when occasion presented itself in Glasgow, advised his pupils to go and hear Dr Stark.

His personal religion was sincere, manly, progressive. In his declining days piety shone in his whole character with peaceful, winning lustre. He was a man of prayer, and of steadfast holy principle. He lived daily on God's Word. He had clear, full views of the gospel, and fed his own soul with the truth he preached to others. He was submissive in trial, and solicitous to profit by it. He admired the character of the blessed Saviour. He gloried in the cross. He was truly, as we believe, a servant of Jesus Christ, ripely furnished through divine grace for every good work.

THE NATURE OF HEAVEN.

No subject has been the source of more speculation than the nature of heaven-not as regards its inhabitants, for there is little room for doubt concerning at least the general characteristics of these, but as regards heaven itself, considered as a place. The question that asks where heaven is, has been answered in various ways. Some,

supposing that the throne of the Almighty must needs be sought for within the confines of the solar system, have imagined the sun to be the probable locality of heaven; such not only forget that the sun is but one of the countless stars that twinkle in the firmament, all of which are equally the work of God, and that the system it rules, however boundless it may appear to us, is but a part, and a comparatively small part, of the works of God; they also fail to recollect that the physical nature of the sun, is such as to preclude entirely the possibility of the truth of their theory. Others again would have us to believe that heaven is to be found on this earth itself, an opinion which, so far at least as we can understand it, is liable, even more than the former, to all the objections we have urged against it. A third class hold that there is no such place as heaven at all, conceiving the Scripture heaven to denote, not a place, but a state of mind; they shrink from the idea of a material heaven, however refined and spiritualized: as they would from the notion of a material soul, this opinion we shall subsequently consider.

When we consider the vast creation situated beyond the confines of our system, and the relation in which the inhabitants of these worlds stand to God as their Creator and Preserver, as well as ours, we cannot be blind to the conclusion, that heaven must be somewhere beyond that planetary system, of which this earth forms a part. We shall now proceed at once to give our view on the subject.

What we call the solar system comprehends the sun and the planets, whose motion through the heavens it governs; but we know that there are many other such systems, all consisting of suns and planets, and all fashioned probably after the same plan as that according to which the great Architect has made our own. The stars, we know, are the suns of these systems; and, as in the case of each one of them, the planets revolve round their respective suns, so it may be that these suns with their systems move, together with our sun and its system, around a common centre, which, by its attracting power, preserves the most unbroken order among those satellites. We do not of course know whether this complicated system constitutes, or does not, the whole of the created universe. The universe may not be so large; or, on the other hand, the truth may be that there are other such systems of worlds revolving along with this, around some interior sun, which is the centre of the whole. Supposing this last to be true, let us, before proceeding further, retrace our steps, and consider the process by which we have obtained to this conception. By an effort of imagination, we have, in the first in

stance, imaged to our minds-and that by no easy task, though our notion be inadequate at the best-that system, of which, more peculiarly, the earth we inhabit, forms a member; then we rise to the conception of a system so vast, that this solar system dwindles into one of the satellites revolving round its sun; and once more, by a similar process, we imagine a system so stupendous that even this last becomes one of the satellites attendant on its sun, and this sun we may suppose to be the centre of the universe. The imagination, weary with the effort, must here cease her flight; but if we were to suppose that, because our finite conception can extend no further, the universe must be extensive with our imagination, or that because we can extend our thoughts so far, the universe does extend to the greatness of which we have attempted to conceive;—such an idea were absurd. The created universe may be vaster; it may not be so vast; indeed, we are not entitled to suppose that it extends further than such a system as that of which the stars and their planets are the satellites, and some inferior sun the centre. such a question is beside our present purpose. It is enough, if, by a correct induction from what we know of the plan after which the solar system was created, we attain to a knowledge of the law it has pleased the omnipotent Designer to follow, and in obedience to which He has framed all the world; and such an induction leads us independently altogether of the extent to which Infinite Wisdom has seen fit to carry out that law, leads us to the grand conclusion, that there is, in the midst of the mighty host of heaven, a centre-sun* around which they all revolve.

But

May it not be that this centre-sun, round which all the suns revolve, is heaven-the throne of God most high-the abode of angels-the home of the righteous?

Thus we contemplate Jehovah enthroned in the very centre of his works, dispensing on all the creatures of his hand, the blessings He giveth them so richly to enjoy, sending forth his ministering spirits on missions of love to the worlds that 'whirl their ethereal round' on the very confines of immensity, and receiving from all his

* When we speak of a centre-sun, we mean, of course, a sun in the centre of the universe; but this pre-supposes that the universe (here and elsewhere, by universe, we mean, created universe) is bounded which we need scarcely say we believe to be the case. We should violate the axiomatic truth that space has its centre everywhere, and its circumference nowhere' (than which it is no less true that space has its centre nowhere, and its circumference everywhere,) were we to suppose that a boundless

universe of worlds, had its centre anywhere in particular. On the other hand, if the universe be bounded it must have a centre; but the universe is bounded [because no created thing can be coextensive with uncreated space i. e., boundless]; therefore the universe has a centre.

work, in all places of his dominion, the grateful tribute of praise.

We know not if we may carry out this thought a little farther, and trace the analogy which seems to us to subsist between the relation which this centre-sun holds to the universe around it, and that which, for instance, our sun holds to this earth and the other planets of its system. We shall merely suggest two particulars in which it is possible an analogy may subsist: of these the first is probably true; the second, more problematic.

The sun exerts upon this earth and the planets the force of gravity, and prevents them from deviating from the path God has appointed them to run. And is it not owing to the attracting influence of this centre-sun, primarily upon the suns which, with their systems, revolve around it, indirectly upon every planet and world by means of these suns, that these countless globes revolve in unbroken harmony and order?

The sun gives light-the light to which we owe most of the blessings of this lifenay, to which we may be said to owe life itself to our earth and the other planets of the system. May it not be that the source of all light, to all the universe, is to be found in this centre-sun? Is it not from heaven itself that the suns derive their light? May it not be that the light which comes to us from the sun, is not inherent in it is but a reflection from some other sun, which again is a reflection of the light of heaven? And is it so, that, were we to traverse, on the wings of an angel, the vast universe of God, we should find the light of every sun more bright than that of its attendant stars? would not the light become more glorious, the beams more radiant, as we drew nigh to that centre-sun, as we approached the dwelling-place of Him who is the light-the light of the world, the light of the universe-even that light which is 'inaccessible and full of glory.

Is heaven indeed the fountain of light? Ask rather is not the God of heaven literally the Father of lights? Can it be that the light which shines on earth is in very deed an emanation from God himself? Reflected from sun to sun, from star to star, from the sun which lightens our firmament, does it reach us still the image of that source of purity from whom it proceeds? It may be so, we have no direct proof to offer that it is really so; still may we think of it as a possible thing; and there is at least no proof that it is not so. But let it not be urged against this opinion, that light is too physical a substance to proceed from a pure spirit. If light has become, in some measure, a physical substance and its primal purity become sullied

by the nature of those suns, by which it has been reflected in its pathway from heaven to earth; if, from the nature of terrestial atmospheres some baser alloy has marred its original spotless beauty; without this, it had been a thing too holy, too divine for this vile and sinful earth;-can we on that account regard it as altogether material, altogether earthly? No; it is a type, whether we view it in itself as still pure, beautiful above all earthly objects, or in its effects upon creation, rejoicing, reviving and blessing all things;-it is a type of Him from whom proceeds all that is good, as well as all that is fair and lovely.

When the spirits of the just made perfect quit the tenement in which they have been imprisoned, how glorious the route through which they journey, as they ascend from the blackness of death's dark valley up to the bosom of their Father and their God? Truly the way by which they travel, as they are borne through immensity on angels' wings up to their Father's house. resembles the path they have trod on earth, shining more and more unto the perfect day. For, as their celestial guides bring them nearer and nearer to the better country, the glory which emanates from the Father of lights and from the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shines on them with increasing radiance. And when at length they reach the paradise of God, the holy Jerusalem having the glory of God,' what rich and copious floods of light shall beam around them? 'for the glory of God doth lighten it and the Lamb is the light thereof!

And if it is indeed the light of heaven the light of God himself that shines around us, with what euthusiasm can we not exclaim with the Poet

'Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven! when we recognise in every ray that beams around us, a gift which has come down from the Father of lights, who is at the same time our Father in heaven; while the eye of faith may look beyond it as a sign, into the exceeding and eternal weight of glory it portrays, and see in it a harbinger of the brightness of the glory yet to be revealed in that land from which it

the lot of the Christians of the present day. As soon as our Lord was taken up to heaven, the disciples returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and were continually in the temple praising and blessing God.' Nor was this a mere transient rapture that lighted up their minds for a short interval, and then disappeared for ever, leaving a darker gloom behind. Joy was the element in which they lived, notwithstanding external circumstances of the most unfavourable kind. They were 'troubled on every side, yet not distressed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.' In poverty, discomfort, and persecution, they enjoyed a very large amount of spiritual happiness; while we, though possessed of every apparent advantage, are exceedingly liable to doubts and fears. How little can most Christians of the present day tell by experience of such a thing as a peace that passeth all understanding.' How seldom do we meet with any who can affirm that, in believing, they rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. From what causes, then, can this general decline of spiritual joy arise? we have the same Saviour to redeem us, the same promises to cheer us, and the same heaven set before us. The love of the Father has not grown cold; the blood of the Son has not lost its efficacy; the Holy Spirit fills, as actively as ever, the office of the Comforter. As the cause of the change is not to be found in any alteration of God's dispensations towards us, it must be sought in ourselves, and those who seek it there will find a complete solution of the question.

6

The greater spiritual happiness of Christians in apostolic times arose in part from their possessing a more thorough knowledge of the gospel than is common among even truly good men at the present time. All the doctrines of the gospel are comfortable doctrines to those who believe it, and therefore the more that is known of them, the more fully and the more clearly they are understood, the happier will the believer of them be. Now if the more we know of Christianity, the happier we are; it will follow, that the less we know of it, the less happy will we be. In looking at such parts of the New Testament as afford us any information on the subject we can scarcely avoid coming to the conclusion, that the generality of believers in those days had a more complete and clear acquaintance with the gospel than most Christians at the present time, he can judge of the usual attainments of the primitive Christians from the subjects on which Paul, in his epistle to the Hebrews, takes for granted that they were sufficiently informed, and for this reason, tells them

that he would proceed to higher mysteries. Therefore,' says he, 'leaving the princiciples of the doctrine of Christ, let us go on unto perfection, not laying again the foundation of repentance from dead works and of faith toward God, of the doctrine of baptisms and of laying on of hands, and of resurrection of the dead, and of eternal judgment.' Can it be said of the majority of the Christians of this country that they are so thoroughly acquainted with these subjects that they read no further instruction regarding them, but only require to have their pure minds stirred up by way of remembrance?' The members of the apostolic Church were expected to be able to carry on instructive conversations with their fellow Christians on the doctrines and duties of the gospel, and to give unbelievers an intelligible account of the evidences on which rested their belief in the divine origin and anthority of their faith. Writing to the Romans, Paul says 'myself also am persuaded of you, brethren, that ye are filled with all knowledge, able also to admonish one another.' To the Thessalonians he gives the following advices, comfort yourselves together, and edify one another, even as also ye do, warn them that are unruly, comfort the feeble-minded, support the weak;' and in his epistle to the Hebrews he gives the following injunction: Exhort one another daily, while it is called to-day, lest! any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin.' Now it can scarcely be supposed that any one, writing to our modern churches, would take it for granted that the great majority of their members would be able to confound gainsayers, and to edify, comfort, and warn their brethren, as the apostles expected, or those who were in fellowship with the churches founded by them. Another proof of the knowledge of the early believers is to be found in the history of Apollos. He was, it would seem, a man of talents and education, and, 'being fervent in the spirit, he spake and taught diligently the things of the Lord, knowing only the baptism of John.' But at Ephesus he met with two Christians, who forthwith began to instruct him; and and in the account given us in the book of Acts it is noticeable, first, that Priscilla as well as Aquila was able to impart that instruction, for it is said-' They pounded unto him the way of God more perfectly.' The Christian women of those days, therefore, as well as the Christian men, must have been well acquainted with religious truth, for Apollos received some of his lectures on divinity from the mouth of a woman. In the next place, we have no reason to believe that Priscilla and Aquila were much superior in the amount of their attainments, to the great body of

ex

their Christian brethren. Aquila was not a man of wealth or of letters, but a tradesmen, a tent-maker, and his wife would probably belong to the same class of society; yet these plain persons, these private members of the church, were able to give Apollos such a thorough insight into the evidence and nature of the Christian faith, that, without any farther instruction than what he had received at the tent-maker's fireside, he became one of the first preachers of the day, for he mightily convinced the Jews, and that publicly, showing by the Scriptures that Jesus was the Christ.' But how few of the private Christians of these times could furnish a preacher with a complete stock of theology to fit him for public usefulness; and how few of our Christian ladies would be able to succeed Priscilla in her theological chair. It seems to be clear, then, from the facts that have been brought forward, that the average knowledge of the primitive Christians was much greater than that of believers at present; and as we have already seen that the more we know of religion the happier we may be, we can be at no loss to draw the conclusion, that those who desire to partake of the happiness of the early disciples, must emulate their knowledge.

Another reason for the superior happiness of the apostolic Christians, was their constant reference, in all that they did, to the spiritual and future. They seem to have had a very lively gratitude for the privileges which they enjoyed; while most of us, it is to be feared, live on from day to day with very little reflection on the inestimable value of the mercies that we receive, and very inadequate thankfulness for them. We are also much more bound to the world than they were. When their possessions were confiscated, they took joyfully the spoiling of their goods;' when they were rebuked by the councillor, they 'rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for the name' of their Lord; when they were cast into prison, and subjected to the most rigorous confinement it afforded, they 'sang praises to God.' They were able to rejoice in their tribulation; we seldom can attain higher than to be assigned under it. We think more of a slight inconvenience in the cause of Christ, than they did for the loss of all things; and if we have such worldly tempers, and so much attachment to what is beneath, is it at all surprising that we have so little of the comfort that is from above? The primitive Christians seem to have been much more completely and habitually than modern believers under the influence of the grand realities of a future state. It is very noticeable how frequently this is presented as a motive to duty in the

New Testament. Let your moderation be known unto all men; the Lord is at hand.' Deny ungodliness and worldy lusts, and live soberly, and righteously, and godly, in this present world, looking for that blessed hope.' 'Be ye also patient, stablish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord draweth near.' 'Abide in him, that when he shall appear, we may have confidence, and not be ashamed before him at his coming. Keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. Such passages as these give us the key-note of Christian life in the first century of our era; and one very strong reason why we enjoy so little spiritual happiness, is that we look so little beyond the present life. Heaven far too seldom is before our minds. It is like a dream to us; it was as much a reality to them as the spoiler's hand in their houses, or the fetters on their limbs. We are like servants who, in their master's absence, sit trembling in the dark, and listening to the storm that blows without; we should have 'our loins girt, and our lamps burning,' and believing that he will soon return, be as men that wait for our Lord, that when he comes and knocks we may open to him immediately.'

The primitive Christians enjoyed a larger amount of spiritual happiness than we do, because they lived more under the power of the gospel. It is to be feared that their was more sound and active religion among that generation of believers than their is among ourselves; and therefore they were happier. Religious happiness is not a thing that we can obtain by itself. It is the fruit of religion; there can be no fruit at all unless we have the tree; and if we wish the fruit to be good and plentiful, we must see to it that the tree is large and flourishing. If our religion be stunted and withering, how can we look for anything but small fruit, and little of it? If we would increase our religious happiness, we must increase our religion. The great laws of the gospel are that we should walk in faith and love; and this the early Christians did to a higher degree than those of modern times. The faith of some was 'spoken of throughout the whole world;' and from others 'good tidings were brought of their faith and charity. Their faith was shown by their unshaken firmness in the midst of persecution, and by the bold front of opposition that they presented to the world. Like the spiritual heroes of a former dispensation, they were tortured, not accepting deliverance, because they looked for a better resurrection.' They were not conformed to the world, but steadily and calmly resisted every custom, however common, that was inconsistent with the