APPOINTMENTS. Appointment. Curate of Ramsey, Essex. Domestic Chaplain to the Lord Bishop of London. Curate of St. Blazey, Cornwall. Head Master of Exeter Dioc. Board of Educ. School. Head Master of Aylesbury Grammar School. Chaplain of Partis College, Bath. Curate of St. Mary's, Lichfield. Chaplain to the Lord Bishop of Rochester. Thursday Evening Lecturer of Kibworth, Leicester. Curate of Howden, near Selby. Prebend of Wherwell, Hants. Domestic Chaplain to the Earl of Enniskillen. Chaplain to the Gaol at Portsmouth. Domestic Chaplain to Viscount Combermere. Hildebrand, J. B. Hopper, W. Iremonger, T. L. Labatt, E. Llewellin, J. Mitchell, J. Smith, C. F. Smith, R. Stevens, C. Stevenson, H. J. Walker, G, A, Wolf, Dr. Curate of Walton-in-Gordano, Somerset. Curate of West Farleigh, Kent. Domestic Chaplain to the Bishop of Sodor and Man. Curate of High Hoyland, York. TRIBUTES OF RESPECT. Name. Place. County. Article. (Cambridge, St. Giles Cambridge. Silver Inkstand. Motham. St. Paul's, Worcester Bedford. Robes. Plate. Purse of Money. Communion Service. Epergne and Breakfast Service. Purse of 64l. 10s. Silver Sugar-basin and "E." "Phoenix," "D. I. E." and two letters from "Daleth," have been received. A Sermon will be inserted in our next. "A Priest" shall appear. The question would not have been asked, if the Editor had examined the March Number. The letter of" A. A. A.” should bear the real signature of the writer. "J. W. G." is in type, and is unavoidably deferred, as are many other articles, (more particularly the valuable letter of a "Shepherd of the South," and the List of New Publications,) from want of space. This must be our excuse for omitting the paper on the Propriety of a Petition to the House of Lords, with the prayer of which, however, we do not at all concur. The Editor is extremely sorry to postpone "Hermocrates" for another month. 742 Northum. Durham D. of Northumblnd. 96 Denbigh St. Asaph Bp. of St. Asaph Oxford Oxford Lord Dillon 403 Cheshire Chester Marq.of Westminstr. 87 199 Camb. Ely Queen's Coll, Camb. THE CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER. JULY, 1840. A SERMON. JOSEPH'S BRETHREN. GEN. XLII. 21. And they said one to another, We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he besought us, and we would not hear; therefore is this distress come upon us. THE History of Joseph has ever been considered as one of the most interesting and impressive portions of Sacred Scripture. It presents us with a combination of all the moral elements which can adorn the mind. It exhibits the higher qualities which command respect, most delicately tempered and set as it were amidst the softer and more gentle graces which conciliate affection and regard. A spirit of resignation under the pressure of calamities is not more strikingly evinced than that meekness of bearing-that simplicity and self-possession-which distinguish the truly great in the day of affluence and honour. And again, the liveliest emotions and sympathies-the finest impulses of pity and forgivenessbrotherly love under the most trying circumstances-filial tenderness in its most engaging forms-are not more conspicuous than the sterner energies of virtue-the instinctive dread of wrong-the prompt resistance to seduction-the uncompromising severity of religious obedience and devotion. If we turn from the cast of his disposition to the events of his life, we are equally struck with the illustration which they afford of an overruling Providence-of ways beyond our ways-of strange workings, which educe good out of evil, which wind themselves through darkness and danger merely to emerge in prosperity and light. Under every aspect therefore, either as regards his character or his fortunes, we find eminently displayed the beauty alike and the reward of holiness. But, pleasing as such a view must naturally be, I would request your attention at present to a portion of his history, less attractive perhaps, and less familiar to our thoughts, but not less fraught with materials of instruction and warning. I mean the conduct of his Brethren. I would consider it as offering a practical confirmation of that truth, which so awfully vindicates the moral government of God-that "to hate is to suffer"-that the malevolent passions, in the same degree in which they are exerted to inflict misery upon others, are invariably found to produce it upon ourselves. And, before entering on this consideration, I need scarcely remind you that the description, which this narrative conveys, was drawn and preserved to us by men who professed to be the direct descendants of those very patriarchs, who had every inducement, therefore, which national pride and prejudice can suggest, to soften every harsher feature, and to throw a brighter colouring over every unfavourable point. And yet we find a total absence of any effort to conceal or to extenuate. The feelings of their ancestors—their reasonings, their designs, their crimes, their remorse, their punishment-all these are placed before us with minute and unaffected simplicity. The most sceptical must at least acknowledge the clear expression of candour and impartiality: the Christian will discern the deeper marks and guidance of Inspired Truth. I pass to the narrative itself. There are particular sins, which whether it be from temper, education, or accidental circumstance, are said in Scripture most easily to beset us. And it is from the bias which they impress upon the moral character, that the whole turn and direction of future life may not unfrequently be determined. The passion which peculiarly assailed the brethren of Joseph, which conducted them by insensible gradations even to deeds of unspeakable horror, was Envy. It was that passion which first taught man the dismal lesson of his fallen state-taught it in the novel spectacle of death-in the cold and stiffened corpse of "the righteous Abel "—in "the voice of a brother's blood" that cried "from the ground." Nor was its appearance different in the conduct of the patriarchs. They saw a younger brother the object of especial favour and regard. They stopped not to inquire into the causes of this preference-arising, it may be, from the innocence of youth-from the development of early excellence and virtue-from the hopes and fond imaginings which connect themselves with an untried career-from the prospect of all which can cheer and solace parents in their declining days; or, if these causes were perceived, they most probably but suggested an invidious contrast, and added fresh intensity and bitterness to their aversion. "They hated him, and could not speak peaceably unto him." And, when once a feeling of alienation had settled upon the mind, there was nothing so slight and trivial which would not administer to its fatal influence. Every act, every word, every look, they would probably invest with some sinister meaning, and wrest to their own gloomy purposes. The mere imagery of a dream-shadows of future grandeur, revealed with an unthinking cheerfulness-sank deep into their souls, and poisoned every spring of comfort. "And they hated him yet the more for his dreams." But these feelings were manifested, not, at once, in open acts of insolence and injury, but by the more insidious progression of raillery and insult. And is not this the first appearance which every passion of malevolent character and tendency assumes? It seldom shows itself under a defined aspect-it seldom betrays at once its deadly virulence. It moves in a more subtle form-it disguises its sickly hue with smiles -it bears the name of pleasantry and wit-it insinuates itself into the light charm of conversation-it lurks in oblique doubts and limitations, and circulates in whispered sarcasms and sneers. But how rapid is the growth of envy; how fearful its matured energies and might. Once fostered, it is a passion of unmitigated evil. It bears down every prin ciple of justice, and smothers the loud cry of mercy. Oh, lean not then on excellence and worth! "Whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are of good report," these are the things which it loves, like the unseen pestilence, to wither and destroy. When our Saviour would present to us the model of that perfect simplicity and mildness which form the characteristic of the Christian temper, he pointed to "young children, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." And indeed it would be quite impossible to fix upon a brighter spot in animated nature. With every form of advanced life, we associate something of its inherent corruptions; we cannot believe that it has moved so long in this low shadow unspotted by its tainting influence. But in the Young-in their helplessness-in their purity-in their gentle looks-in their guileless accents-in their playful and unsuspecting confidence we see all that can disarm ferocity, and win the hardest spirit to love-" But who is able to stand before Envy?" It would be too overpowering to dwell on the recorded scene, when the patriarchs prepared themselves for the purposes of vengeance, and he stood before them their own brother-their young brother-the joy, the hope, the comfort of their common parents-he stood before them "as the lamb that is doomed for the slaughter." He had come to them on a message of gladness-he had sought them out with impatient affection -he had hastened to inquire of their success and welfare. Who can conceive the dreadful revulsion, when, untaught as yet to believe in cruelty, he marked the strange gatherings of wrath-harsh words, and fearful signs, and the grasp of rude hands. Who can conceive it—the wild cry of terror-the feeble struggle and the look of piteous astonishment, when he descended into the pit-into the darkness of a living grave! Their resolution, it is true, was subsequently changed. Violence was made to yield to the colder calculations of avarice, or, it may be, to a lingering sense of compassion and regret. His life was spared; but it was spared for a state which might be deemed far worse than the most painful death. Torn from the fondness of parents, from the caresses and endearments of home, he was left in early youth, guideless and friendless, to be bartered for sordid gain-to be dragged away into captivity and bondage-to be cast upon a thousand unknown difficulties and dangers-to be forced to wear out a wretched life, under every form of humiliation and suffering, amidst the stranger's taunt and the oppressor's blow. It was then, we may well imagine, that they saw "the anguish of his soul," when he besought them, but they would not hear; when he stretched out his feeble arms, and cried with an exceeding bitter cry, and they would not relent. Determined as they had been on this ferocious deed, when their steps turned homewards, they could scarcely have been free from melancholy reflections. They could not but recall the light steps, and the joyful greeting-how ill returned, poor victim, by the sickening scene which they had just witnessed! But this was not their only penalty. Sin links itself with sorrow. Another scene of woe was to arrive. They had hardened themselves against the looks of Youthful innocence: they must now meet the Aged form of parental grief. After a life, which he compared, even in his happiest moment, to a |