"I do not know what is the reason," said Harriet, just after she had returned home from a walk with her mother, "but I am not so happy as I expected to be at my new school. Yet our governess is very kind; and as for my schoolfellows, there is not a nicer set of girls anywhere, I am sure."
"Since that is the case," replied her mother, "I should be inclined, if I were you, to suspect that the fault must be in myself."
"I suppose so; and I have tried sometimes to find out what it could be. Will you help me to consider about it, dear mother; and then, if there is anything wrong, I will try to be more watchful over my conduct, that I may be happier next half-year."
"I will gladly give you all the assistance in my power," her mother replied; "and if you are sincere in your self-examination, I doubt not that we shall soon discover the true cause of your dissatisfaction. Tell me, then, in the first instance, if you have experienced any return of your unhappiness since you have been at home."
"Yes, mother; that is the strangest part of it. When first I came back, I was so glad to see you again, that I forgot everything else; but very soon I began to feel restless and discontented in my own mind, though I have everything to please me, and my father and you are satisfied with my improvement. It was just the same at school. When I gained the prize for good conduct, and all the girls said how happy I must be, I felt all the time as if I had not deserved it; and at night I was so sorrowful, that I could not help crying after I was in bed."
"You felt as if you had not deserved the prize. Were you then conscious of faults that were unknown to your governess?"
"Yes, mother, I was indeed; for you will be grieved to hear that I have many bad feelings in my heart, which I had not at my other school-such as selfishness, and envy of my schoolfellows, particularly if they are praised more than I am; and, what is worse than all, I do not like to think about holy things, nor about trying to please God, so well as I used to do."
"Oh! my dear child," said Harriet's mother, sorrowfully, "since you have told me this, we need not inquire any further respecting the cause of your unhappiness. It arises from a guilty and troubled conscience, which cannot let you be at peace. This also accounts for a change which I have remarked with much uneasiness, though I have refrained from naming it till now. When you were at home last holidays, I used to see your Bible and your little Calendar for daily reading lying upon your table, as if they were often used; but this time I have never seen you with the Bible in your hand, and I found your little Calendar among some old, worn-out school-books, in a corner of your trunk, as if it were no longer of use or value."
Harriet looked much ashamed, and shed tears as she replied, "It is true, mother; I do not read my chapters now: for, soon after I went to school, when the girls found out what I was doing, they made such game of me that I could not go on."
"No doubt their ridicule would be very painful to you," said her mother; "but did you pray, my dear, that you might be enabled to do your duty under every trial; and did you remember that awful declaration of our Savior, ‘Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words; of him also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father, with the holy angels.' Mark 8:38."
"No, mother, I did not," said Harriet; "but at school we have so little time, and so few opportunities of being alone, that, though I do not wish to excuse my fault, yet it is very difficult to do always as I ought; and I do not find that these things are made of so much importance as at my other school."
"I am very sorry that this should be the case," replied her mother; "but your way of duty is plain. You must endeavor to do the will of God under all circumstances, and he will give you strength for it, if you ask him with all your heart, and for the sake of his dear Son. I will myself speak to your governess upon the subject, and request that you may have time and opportunity for reading and retirement; but do not forget, my dear, that even amidst the engagements of the school-room you may secretly lift up your thoughts to your Savior, and implore his blessing. Words are not necessary to make known to him the desire of the heart. I am thankful to perceive that you have an awakened conscience. Do not resist its warnings, nor try to silence its reproaches; but humbly seek for pardon through the atoning blood that was shed for you, and thus you will regain the peace with God, and that happy state of mind which sin and the neglect of duty have for the present interrupted and destroyed."
Harriet went back to school with good resolutions, which, it is hoped, were not made in dependence on her own strength; and I must not omit to add, that she procured a new Biblical Calendar, which she packed carefully with her Bible, having made a firm determination to consult it every day.
__________
Betsy Bartlett and Other Tales (London: The Religious Tract Society, c. 1867), page 46.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
THE MISSIONARY'S FATHER by William Goodell
A LETTER FROM REV. WILLIAM GOODELL.
CONSTANTINOPLE, August 18, 1843.
MY DEAR BROTHER-The intelligence contained in your letter was not unexpected. Our father had attained to a great age, lacking only five days of being eighty-six years old. He was full of days, but more full of faith and of the Holy Ghost. How long he had "borne the image of the earthly" before he was renewed in the spirit of his mind, I know not; but I know he had long borne "the image of the heavenly."
Though I can look back some forty-five years or more, I cannot look back to the year when he was not living a life of faith, and prayer, and self-denial-of deadness to the world, and of close walk with God. This was the more remarkable, as in the church of which in those days he was a member, there was scarcely one individual who could fully sympathize with him in his religious views. Those great evangelical doctrines of the gospel, which his own minister never preached, and his own church never adopted into her creed, were his meat and drink. "The raven, though an unclean bird, brought food to Elijah," was a common expression of his on returning from church, where he had been able to pick out of much chaff a few crumbs of the bread of life. His privileges were few; prayer-meetings were unknown; the sum total, or about the sum total of his library, was the family Bible, one copy of Watts' Psalms and Hymns, Doddridge's Rise and Progress, Pike's Cases of Conscience, the second volume of Fox's Book of Martyrs, and the Assembly's Catechism.
But though his means of grace were thus limited, yet, meditating day and night on God's law, his roots struck deep; and he was like a tree planted by the rivers of water, whose leaf is always green, and whose fruit is always abundant. Whoever saw him riding on horseback would, if he kept himself concealed, be almost sure to see him engaged in prayer. Whoever should work with him, in seed-time or harvest, would find his thoughts as actively employed above, as his hands were below. Whoever of the Lord's people met him, by day or by night, at home or abroad, alone or in company, would find him ready to sit down with them in heavenly places, in order to comprehend "what is the length, and breadth, and depth, and height" of the love of Christ.
Being the youngest of the family, you can have but an indistinct recollection of the small house on the side of the hill, containing two small rooms and a garret, floored with loose and rough boards, where twelve of us were born; and of the small clump of apple-trees before the door, where your elder brothers and sisters played in the days of their thoughtless childhood. There, with no lock to any door, and no key to any trunk, or drawer, or cupboard; there, where, as I am told, nothing now remains but an old cellar, which may even itself, long before this, have been filled up; there our godly father prayed for us with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit; there, on every Sabbath-eve, he asked us those solemn, important, and all-comprehensive questions from the catechism; and there, with eyes and heart raised to heaven, we used to sing to the tune of old Rochester,
"God, my supporter and my hope,
My help for ever near;
Thine arm of mercy held me up,
When sinking in despair."
And there, too, our mother, of precious memory-though, as she died when you were but six months old, you remember her not-there she lived a life of poverty, patience, meekness, and faith. There she used to sit and card her wool by the light of the pine-knot, and sing to us those sweet words,
"Hov'ring among the leaves, there stands
The sweet celestial Dove;
And Jesus on the branches hangs
The banner of his love."
And there, too, almost thirty-four years ago, we assembled early one morning in her little bed-room to see her die. Her peace was like a river; she was full of triumph; and she was able to address to us words of heavenly consolation till she had actually crossed over into shallow water within one minute of the opposite banks of the Jordan-heaven and all its glories full in view. Precious woman, "Were my children but pious," thou didst often say in thy last long sickness, "how cheerfully could I leave them, and go away." But what thine eyes were not permitted to behold, have not the angels long since told thee-that the eight children thou didst leave behind, with all, or all but one of their partners, were partakers of that blessed gospel "which was all thy salvation, and all thy desire;" and that three of thy sons were engaged in proclaiming it to others? Yes, God hath heard thy prayers, and "hath remembered his holy covenant," as we are all witnesses this day.
But before I close, I must say something more of the early habits and character of our venerable father. The little farm he once possessed, if it were not all ploughed over, was, I am confident, almost every foot of it prayed over. And some dried apples from it, which a subsequent owner sent me a few years since, were to me "as the smell of a field which the Lord hath blessed." He was full of the millennium and of the missionary spirit, long before the existence of the present missionary societies ; praying daily for both Jews and Gentiles-saying with the Psalmist, "Let the people praise thee, O God; let the people praise thee, all of them"-and like his uncle Solomon Goodell, was ready and desirous to contribute something for the spread of the glorious gospel long before he had an opportunity for so doing.
He served three years in the revolutionary war; and I was struck with the fact you communicated of its being early on the morning of the memorable fourth of July, amidst the roaring of cannon, that he slept in peace. And though to his children he left no inheritance, no, not so much as one cent, yet, in his godly example and prayers, he has left them the very richest legacy which any father ever bequeathed his children.
It is a rare privilege we have all enjoyed in being descended from such parents. They were the children of the great King. They belonged to the royal family. Their names were on the catalogue of princes, and of those that live for ever. They daily walked abroad with the conscious dignity of heirs to a great estate, even an incorruptible inheritance. And they have now gone to sit down with Christ on his throne. "And they shall hunger no more, neither shall they thirst any more." I love to look back and see how, with no ambitious aspirings after worldly gain, or pleasure, or honor, they humbly walked with God; how from day to day they deliberately sought, both for themselves and for their children, first of all, "the kingdom of God and his righteousness;" and how in this scoffing world they were so united to Christ as apparently to have no separate interest or existence-it not being so much "they that lived, as Christ living in them."
It was doubtless a mercy to them, that they never at any time possessed much of this world's goods, and were at times reduced to great straits: and a mercy to us, that we had to bear the yoke in our youth, and often to make our meal of salt and potatoes; and I have often found it in my heart to bless God for all his dealings with them and with us. And why should we be anxious to leave our children any other inheritance than was left to us? If we leave them this, and they avail themselves of it, then, though we be dead, they shall still have a Father who will provide for them, and take care of them, and bless them, and make them happy for ever.
And is our father gone, who prayed for us so much? Let us be thankful that the great Intercessor "everliveth to make intercession for us;" and more than ever, let us avail ourselves of his mediation and atonement, of his grace and strength, and of his righteousness and Spirit; and more than ever, let us now pray for ourselves and for all our brothers and sisters. And is our father dead? Let us arise and give thanks to God that good men may die. Let us give special thanks that our father and mother are no longer in this world of sin and sorrow. And let us be more careful than ever to "be followers of those who, through faith and patience, are now inheriting the promises," being sinners saved by grace alone.
CONSTANTINOPLE, August 18, 1843.
MY DEAR BROTHER-The intelligence contained in your letter was not unexpected. Our father had attained to a great age, lacking only five days of being eighty-six years old. He was full of days, but more full of faith and of the Holy Ghost. How long he had "borne the image of the earthly" before he was renewed in the spirit of his mind, I know not; but I know he had long borne "the image of the heavenly."
Though I can look back some forty-five years or more, I cannot look back to the year when he was not living a life of faith, and prayer, and self-denial-of deadness to the world, and of close walk with God. This was the more remarkable, as in the church of which in those days he was a member, there was scarcely one individual who could fully sympathize with him in his religious views. Those great evangelical doctrines of the gospel, which his own minister never preached, and his own church never adopted into her creed, were his meat and drink. "The raven, though an unclean bird, brought food to Elijah," was a common expression of his on returning from church, where he had been able to pick out of much chaff a few crumbs of the bread of life. His privileges were few; prayer-meetings were unknown; the sum total, or about the sum total of his library, was the family Bible, one copy of Watts' Psalms and Hymns, Doddridge's Rise and Progress, Pike's Cases of Conscience, the second volume of Fox's Book of Martyrs, and the Assembly's Catechism.
But though his means of grace were thus limited, yet, meditating day and night on God's law, his roots struck deep; and he was like a tree planted by the rivers of water, whose leaf is always green, and whose fruit is always abundant. Whoever saw him riding on horseback would, if he kept himself concealed, be almost sure to see him engaged in prayer. Whoever should work with him, in seed-time or harvest, would find his thoughts as actively employed above, as his hands were below. Whoever of the Lord's people met him, by day or by night, at home or abroad, alone or in company, would find him ready to sit down with them in heavenly places, in order to comprehend "what is the length, and breadth, and depth, and height" of the love of Christ.
Being the youngest of the family, you can have but an indistinct recollection of the small house on the side of the hill, containing two small rooms and a garret, floored with loose and rough boards, where twelve of us were born; and of the small clump of apple-trees before the door, where your elder brothers and sisters played in the days of their thoughtless childhood. There, with no lock to any door, and no key to any trunk, or drawer, or cupboard; there, where, as I am told, nothing now remains but an old cellar, which may even itself, long before this, have been filled up; there our godly father prayed for us with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit; there, on every Sabbath-eve, he asked us those solemn, important, and all-comprehensive questions from the catechism; and there, with eyes and heart raised to heaven, we used to sing to the tune of old Rochester,
"God, my supporter and my hope,
My help for ever near;
Thine arm of mercy held me up,
When sinking in despair."
And there, too, our mother, of precious memory-though, as she died when you were but six months old, you remember her not-there she lived a life of poverty, patience, meekness, and faith. There she used to sit and card her wool by the light of the pine-knot, and sing to us those sweet words,
"Hov'ring among the leaves, there stands
The sweet celestial Dove;
And Jesus on the branches hangs
The banner of his love."
And there, too, almost thirty-four years ago, we assembled early one morning in her little bed-room to see her die. Her peace was like a river; she was full of triumph; and she was able to address to us words of heavenly consolation till she had actually crossed over into shallow water within one minute of the opposite banks of the Jordan-heaven and all its glories full in view. Precious woman, "Were my children but pious," thou didst often say in thy last long sickness, "how cheerfully could I leave them, and go away." But what thine eyes were not permitted to behold, have not the angels long since told thee-that the eight children thou didst leave behind, with all, or all but one of their partners, were partakers of that blessed gospel "which was all thy salvation, and all thy desire;" and that three of thy sons were engaged in proclaiming it to others? Yes, God hath heard thy prayers, and "hath remembered his holy covenant," as we are all witnesses this day.
But before I close, I must say something more of the early habits and character of our venerable father. The little farm he once possessed, if it were not all ploughed over, was, I am confident, almost every foot of it prayed over. And some dried apples from it, which a subsequent owner sent me a few years since, were to me "as the smell of a field which the Lord hath blessed." He was full of the millennium and of the missionary spirit, long before the existence of the present missionary societies ; praying daily for both Jews and Gentiles-saying with the Psalmist, "Let the people praise thee, O God; let the people praise thee, all of them"-and like his uncle Solomon Goodell, was ready and desirous to contribute something for the spread of the glorious gospel long before he had an opportunity for so doing.
He served three years in the revolutionary war; and I was struck with the fact you communicated of its being early on the morning of the memorable fourth of July, amidst the roaring of cannon, that he slept in peace. And though to his children he left no inheritance, no, not so much as one cent, yet, in his godly example and prayers, he has left them the very richest legacy which any father ever bequeathed his children.
It is a rare privilege we have all enjoyed in being descended from such parents. They were the children of the great King. They belonged to the royal family. Their names were on the catalogue of princes, and of those that live for ever. They daily walked abroad with the conscious dignity of heirs to a great estate, even an incorruptible inheritance. And they have now gone to sit down with Christ on his throne. "And they shall hunger no more, neither shall they thirst any more." I love to look back and see how, with no ambitious aspirings after worldly gain, or pleasure, or honor, they humbly walked with God; how from day to day they deliberately sought, both for themselves and for their children, first of all, "the kingdom of God and his righteousness;" and how in this scoffing world they were so united to Christ as apparently to have no separate interest or existence-it not being so much "they that lived, as Christ living in them."
It was doubtless a mercy to them, that they never at any time possessed much of this world's goods, and were at times reduced to great straits: and a mercy to us, that we had to bear the yoke in our youth, and often to make our meal of salt and potatoes; and I have often found it in my heart to bless God for all his dealings with them and with us. And why should we be anxious to leave our children any other inheritance than was left to us? If we leave them this, and they avail themselves of it, then, though we be dead, they shall still have a Father who will provide for them, and take care of them, and bless them, and make them happy for ever.
And is our father gone, who prayed for us so much? Let us be thankful that the great Intercessor "everliveth to make intercession for us;" and more than ever, let us avail ourselves of his mediation and atonement, of his grace and strength, and of his righteousness and Spirit; and more than ever, let us now pray for ourselves and for all our brothers and sisters. And is our father dead? Let us arise and give thanks to God that good men may die. Let us give special thanks that our father and mother are no longer in this world of sin and sorrow. And let us be more careful than ever to "be followers of those who, through faith and patience, are now inheriting the promises," being sinners saved by grace alone.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
POOR JOSEPH by Rev. Dr. Calamy
A Poor unlearned man, named Joseph, whose employment was to go on errands and carry parcels, passing through London streets one day, heard psalm-singing in the house of God, and went in, having a large parcel of yarn hanging over his shoulders. It was Dr. Calamy’s church, St. Mary’s, Aldermanbury. A well-dressed congregation surrounded the doctor. He read his text from 1 Timothy 1:15. “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief.” From this he preached, in the clearest manner, the ancient and apostolic Gospel, the contents of this faithful saying, that there is eternal salvation for the vilest sinners, only through the worthiness of Jesus Christ, the God that made all things. Not many rich, not many noble are called by this doctrine, says the apostle; “but God hath chosen the weak things of this world to confound the things that are mighty.”
While the gay and thoughtless part of the congregation listlessly heard this glorious truth—and, if they were struck with any thing, it was only with some fine expression or well-turned sentence that the doctor uttered—Joseph, in rags, gazing with astonishment, never took his eyes from the preacher, but drank in with eagerness all he said; and trudging homeward, he was heard thus speaking with himself: “Joseph never heard this before; Jesus Christ, the God who made all things, came into the world to save sinners like Joseph; and this is true; and it is a faithful saying.’ ”
Not long after this, Joseph was seized with a fever, and was dangerously ill. As he tossed upon his bed his constant language was, “Joseph is the chief of sinners; but Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, and Joseph loves him for this.” His neighbors who came to see him, wondered, on hearing him always dwell on this, and only this. Some of the religious sort addressed him in the following manner: “But what say you of your own heart, Joseph? Is there no token of good about it? No saving change there? Have you closed with Christ, by acting faith upon him?” “Ah, no,” says he, “Joseph can act nothing—Joseph has nothing to say for himself but that he is the chief of sinners; yet, seeing that it is a ‘faithful saying,’ that Jesus, he who made all things, came into the world to save sinners, why may not Joseph, after all, be saved?”
One man, finding out where he heard this doctrine, on which he dwelt so continually and with such delight, went and asked Dr. Calamy to come and visit him. He came, but Joseph was now very weak, and had not spoken for some time, and though told of the doctor’s arrival, he took no notice of him; but when the doctor began to speak to him, as soon as he heard the sound of his voice, he instantly sprang upon his elbow, and seizing him by his hand exclaimed as loud as he could with his now feeble and trembling voice, “O, sir, you are the friend of the Lord Jesus whom I heard speak so well of him. Joseph is the chief of sinners; but it is a ‘faithful saying,’ that Jesus Christ, the God who made all things, came into the world to save sinners, and why not Joseph? Oh! pray to that Jesus for me, pray that he may save me: tell him that Joseph thinks that he loves him for coming into the world to save such sinners as Joseph.”
The doctor prayed: when he concluded, Joseph thanked him most kindly; he then put his hand under his pillow and took out an old rag, in which were tied up five guineas, and putting it into the doctor’s hand, (which he had kept all this while close in his,) he thus addressed him: “Joseph, in his folly, had laid up this to keep him in his old age; but Joseph will never see old age: take it, and divide it amongst the poor friends of the Lord Jesus; and tell them that Joseph gave it them for His sake who came into the world to save sinners, of whom he is the chief.” So saying, he reclined his head. His exertions in talking had been too much for him, so that he instantly expired.
Dr. Calamy left this scene, but not without shedding tears over Joseph; and used to tell this little story with much feeling, and as one of the most affecting occurrences he ever met with. It naturally suggests the following observations:
1. Let us admire the power of Divine grace. The whole congregation, whether rich or poor, were sinners in the sight of the holy God, and stood equally in need of that salvation which by the Gospel was preached to them. But while the thoughtless assembly heard it with inattention, the word of God came with “demonstration of the Spirit and of power” to the heart of Joseph, and fixed his attention to its infinite importance. To what can we ascribe this difference, but to the free grace of him who “hath hid these things from the wise and prudent, and revealed them to babes, and hath chosen the poor of this world to be rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him?”
To display the riches of this grace, the apostle tells us that God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak things of the world to confound the things that are mighty, for the express purpose that no flesh should glory in his presence, but that he that glorieth should glory only in the Lord. This is very different from the general views of men. There is a proneness in men, when convicted of sin, to go about to establish a righteousness of their own, not submitting to the righteousness of God; while others endeavor, by their own exertions, to make their hearts better, and so prepare them for the reception of Christ. Joseph had no idea of such a way of salvation. When asked about his heart, if there was no token for good about it, no saving change there, “Ah,” said he, “Joseph has nothing to say for himself, but just that he is the chief of sinners; but ‘it is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners.’ ”
While the gay and thoughtless part of the congregation listlessly heard this glorious truth—and, if they were struck with any thing, it was only with some fine expression or well-turned sentence that the doctor uttered—Joseph, in rags, gazing with astonishment, never took his eyes from the preacher, but drank in with eagerness all he said; and trudging homeward, he was heard thus speaking with himself: “Joseph never heard this before; Jesus Christ, the God who made all things, came into the world to save sinners like Joseph; and this is true; and it is a faithful saying.’ ”
Not long after this, Joseph was seized with a fever, and was dangerously ill. As he tossed upon his bed his constant language was, “Joseph is the chief of sinners; but Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, and Joseph loves him for this.” His neighbors who came to see him, wondered, on hearing him always dwell on this, and only this. Some of the religious sort addressed him in the following manner: “But what say you of your own heart, Joseph? Is there no token of good about it? No saving change there? Have you closed with Christ, by acting faith upon him?” “Ah, no,” says he, “Joseph can act nothing—Joseph has nothing to say for himself but that he is the chief of sinners; yet, seeing that it is a ‘faithful saying,’ that Jesus, he who made all things, came into the world to save sinners, why may not Joseph, after all, be saved?”
One man, finding out where he heard this doctrine, on which he dwelt so continually and with such delight, went and asked Dr. Calamy to come and visit him. He came, but Joseph was now very weak, and had not spoken for some time, and though told of the doctor’s arrival, he took no notice of him; but when the doctor began to speak to him, as soon as he heard the sound of his voice, he instantly sprang upon his elbow, and seizing him by his hand exclaimed as loud as he could with his now feeble and trembling voice, “O, sir, you are the friend of the Lord Jesus whom I heard speak so well of him. Joseph is the chief of sinners; but it is a ‘faithful saying,’ that Jesus Christ, the God who made all things, came into the world to save sinners, and why not Joseph? Oh! pray to that Jesus for me, pray that he may save me: tell him that Joseph thinks that he loves him for coming into the world to save such sinners as Joseph.”
The doctor prayed: when he concluded, Joseph thanked him most kindly; he then put his hand under his pillow and took out an old rag, in which were tied up five guineas, and putting it into the doctor’s hand, (which he had kept all this while close in his,) he thus addressed him: “Joseph, in his folly, had laid up this to keep him in his old age; but Joseph will never see old age: take it, and divide it amongst the poor friends of the Lord Jesus; and tell them that Joseph gave it them for His sake who came into the world to save sinners, of whom he is the chief.” So saying, he reclined his head. His exertions in talking had been too much for him, so that he instantly expired.
Dr. Calamy left this scene, but not without shedding tears over Joseph; and used to tell this little story with much feeling, and as one of the most affecting occurrences he ever met with. It naturally suggests the following observations:
1. Let us admire the power of Divine grace. The whole congregation, whether rich or poor, were sinners in the sight of the holy God, and stood equally in need of that salvation which by the Gospel was preached to them. But while the thoughtless assembly heard it with inattention, the word of God came with “demonstration of the Spirit and of power” to the heart of Joseph, and fixed his attention to its infinite importance. To what can we ascribe this difference, but to the free grace of him who “hath hid these things from the wise and prudent, and revealed them to babes, and hath chosen the poor of this world to be rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him?”
To display the riches of this grace, the apostle tells us that God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak things of the world to confound the things that are mighty, for the express purpose that no flesh should glory in his presence, but that he that glorieth should glory only in the Lord. This is very different from the general views of men. There is a proneness in men, when convicted of sin, to go about to establish a righteousness of their own, not submitting to the righteousness of God; while others endeavor, by their own exertions, to make their hearts better, and so prepare them for the reception of Christ. Joseph had no idea of such a way of salvation. When asked about his heart, if there was no token for good about it, no saving change there, “Ah,” said he, “Joseph has nothing to say for himself, but just that he is the chief of sinners; but ‘it is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners.’ ”
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