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■re bng, silently water every portion of
nlie field sowed with the word of God; and,
with the divine blessing, would render lux
uriant and plentiful the Christian harvest.”
The writer proceeds to offer several
Suggestions, ig regard to the best methods
of extending the knowledge of Christianity
in the Turkish empire. He dwells on the
vast good, which could probably be effect
ed by a printing establishment, with Greek,
Turkish, and French types, (the latter
comprehending the general European al
phabet,) at Smyrna; and another at Jeru
alero, with Greek, Svriack, and Arabick
haracters. In the most unqualified inan
ler he sanctions the opinion, which the
Committee formed originally, that ‘ Smyrna
.3 by farthe best situation in the Levant for
a permanent missionary establishment, on
the eastern shores of the Mediterranean,
having a frequent communication with all
the parts of the Ottoman empire ; r.nd that
it is the best place in those regions for learn
ing Greek, Turkish, Italian and French,
and for the security and liberty, which for
eigners and Christians enjoy.’ The ad
vantages of an extensive printing establish
ment may he conceived, when it is stated,
that though the Greeks are very fond of
reading, there is not a single newspaper,
or other periodical publication, in all the
Turkish uominioiTS. There is little reason
to doubt, that the shores of the Mediterra
nean afford many of the best openings to
Christian enterprise; and it surely is not
too much to anticipate, that the churches
of this country will delight to send back to
those central parts of the earth, the inestim
able blessings, which were derived from
thence, but which have, in the righteous
visitations of Providence, been so long
banished from the countries, where they
were first enjoyed.
From the Charleston Courier.
REMEMBER ME.
“ This do in remembrance of me.”—Christ.
These were the remarkable words of
qur Saviour, at the close of the most solemn
wdinance, ever instituted in the Christian
Church. It was on the dismal night in
which he was betrayed, that he assembled
his disciples together, to commemorate his
dying love. The twelve had been con
stantly with bira during his publick ministry,
and the subjects of his private admonitions
and instructions ; —he loved them in life—
and in death was anxious to leave them a
legacy that should be as lasting as time it
self. That behest was the sacred em
blems of his own body and blood ; and was
not only bequeathed to bis apostles, but to
all who should believe on him in every age
. of the world; guarding it at the same time,
by the most terrible thuuders of the Al
mighty', that the unworthy might not dare
to approach it—for it was holy, and not to
be polluted by unsanctified hands, without
risking condemnation.
“This do,” srIJ the heavenly instituter
“in remembrance of me.” Yes, it is to be
done in remembrance of him, whose mem
ory should be cherished while gratitude
warms the heart of man. The sufferings he
was about to encounter were of no ordina
ry kind. He had already received almost
every contumely from those, he was anx
ious to preserve, but the cup of affliction was
not yet full. He was to be betrayed by
one of his professional friends, denied by
another, and forsaken by all; to be mock
ed by his enemies, and suffer the agonizing
death of the cross—that man might regain
’bis forfeited allegiance to his Maker. All
this he well knew, but he did not shrink
from this accumulation of woes. He left
bis apoFtles the sacred ordinance of the
Supper, to cheer their prospect as they
journeyed through this vale of tears.
What heart cao remain unmoved, on pe
'using the sacred pages, as they rehearse
‘his affecting solemnity'? For the last time,
the Saviour of the world, with his humble
followers, surround the homely board.
His . pestles were no more in bis human
character to hear his warning voice ; he
was shortly to be torn from ihem by bis
cruel persecutors; the land was to be dyed
with his blood, and they were to be left
destitute of earthly support. He, who for
a long time had been their companion and
adviser, was about to resign his charge ;
and to prepare them fur his trying hour he
now called them together, for he was ho
more to drink wine with them till he drank
it anew in his father’s kingdom.
“ This do in remembrance of me,” is
applicable to you, kind reader. Are you a
hoary headed transgressor ? Remember the
eleventh hour is not too late to prepare for
death ; and during your remaining days re
collect your dying Saviour ; his agony in
the garden, when he sweat drops of blood,
so intense was his struggle foryou. Then
in mercy to yourself remember your Sa
viour, and devote the remnant of your life
to his service.
Are you in possession of youth and
strength, and does health and hilarity ani
mate your countenance ? These are rapid
ly passing away; the evening vespers may
be chaunted over your lifeless corse—and
the morning’s sun may light you to your
charnel-house. Remember the dying love
of your injured Redeemer; he was fond of
youth, and counselled them for their good.
One he tenderly loved, and wept over him
with brotherly affection. He weeps over
you when he looks from his abode, and
sees you hurrying to your own destruction.
Pause then, and return to him, and you
will drink wine new with him in Para
dise.
Are you fast going the way of all flesh,
and Jiaye you in patience possessed your
“souls, looking beyond temporary afflictions,
jikgii the means of weaning your affections
IBBR earth?—You do, indeed, remember
him, and he does not forget you. He will
acknowledge you before assembled angels,
when your grey hairs go down to the
grave. Persevere, and ae your head blos
soms for the tomb, your heart ripens for un
eternity of happiness.
Are you in the morning of life, and have
you placed your hope on (hat Saviour?
Fear no evil—he will never leave nor for
sake von, but will guide you securely thro’
all the dark mazes of this howling wilder
ness—the fiercest dragons of the pit may
assail, but they cannot injure you, for his
omnipotent power will be exerted for your
redemption. Trials, afflictions, poverty
and distress will only he momentary —your
bliss will be endless. Remember your
Heeding Saviour, anil all will go well. In
the lat agonies of expiring nature, and
when the dark mists of death obscure your
earthly vision, your soul will look up to
him with a hope as cheering as the meridi
an sun to the beclouded mariner. In death
he shines upon all who have remembered
him.
Your humble Bible Essayist too, in tak
ing his reluctant farewell, hopes that you
will sometimes remember him before that
Throne, where, the petitions of the high
and the low mingle together—where rank
and distinctions are nothing—and where the
fervour of devotion is alone pre-eminent.
If he has alleviated but one woe of the
heart, he is amply rewarded, and it will
cheer his way as he pursues his assiduous
avocations.
—-o :o:o:
CLOSE OF THE YEAR.
From the Baltimore. Morn. Chronicle, Jan. 1.
There is a peculiar solemnity that at
tends the close of the year.- VVe look
I around on the white banks of December,
I and they seem associated wiih hoary heads,
! with loss of memory and of sight, end all
those harbingers of a swift approaching
eternity. We turn for consolation to our
friends and relations, to the companions of
our earliest years, and we are again re
minded by the rising mounds that cluster
around our feet, that they also have depart
ed to that “ bourne friim whence no trav
eller returns.” Finally, the heart oppres
sed and disconsolate, is compelled at last
for support on the stay furnished by Gospel
hope.
We are compelled to confront the visage
of the king of terrors,and to look upon our
selves, warned as we are, by the per
vading mortality around us, as candidates
for the tomb. This obnoxious fact is ob
truded on our notice in such a variety of
forms, that there is no escape, no resting
place from such contemplations. But
while we dwell on this melancholy specta
cle with humble hearts and confidence in
the Divine mercy, the shadows of death
begin to kindle with a purple light. We
feel that we are not to remain forever the
subjects of the king of terrors—that there
is a state of existence beyond this transito
ry life—we are admonished of this fact by
the resurrection of the flowers, by the re
volving course of the seasons, by the re-ap
pearance of the sun, and by all the analo
gies furnished by external nature. Vague
and unsatisfactory as these analogies are to
the cravings of an immortal soul—they at
least preach to man that there i3 another
state of being—another world to inhabit.—
Here philosophy trembles and retires ; her
taper can afford no more light—it seems
rather a species of lurid darkness than of
illumination. The proudest philosophers
of antiquity were here compelled to fore
go their inquiries. With all the gigantick
graspings of their mighty minds they could
penetrate no further, and they were at last
coerced to submit to death with a sort of
gloomy acquiescence, as a thing inevitable,
as a dispensation imposed on humanity, not
to be avoided. Those heart-cheering, those
animating hopes were reserved for revela
tion to inspire, and they could only have
been afforded by revelation. Since that
blessed period, the shadows of death have
been'illuminated by a divine light. Angels
have drawn up the curtains, and we behold
realms of joy and sorrow, regions of de
light and mansions of woe ; we behold this
existence connected with an interminable
state hereafter. Death is now viewed in
a more awfully interesting light ; it is that
link that connects the life of man with that
of angels or demons hereafter; he is told
of the reword, and of the punishment. The
good man now looks around with different
views—to him the snows of December, and
hoary hairs, the loss offriends, their graves
gathering around his footsteps, the gradu
al departure of his own senses, produce new
ami soothing associations—he beholds in
the ravages of winter, the return of the
vernal months—he sees in the graves of
his friends, and the decay of his own con
stitution, that the time is near at hand when
he shall meet those beloved comrades of
his heart, in the regions of light and glorv ;
he drops the body to soar an immortal
spirit from the grave—he sees on the gath
ering tempest of death, the bow of mercy
expanded in all its lustre.
While we tender to our friends the com
pliments of the season, we feel a sort of
foreboding heaviness of heart, that many,
who now peruse these pages, and rejoice
with us on the arrival of another year,will,
before another annual revolution of the
seasons, be cold and insensible, either to
the applause or censures of man; we com
mit them to the blessings of that Being,
whose tender mercies are over all the
works of his hand.
FROM THE GUARDIAN.
CAROLINE AND SOPHIA.
You recollect, iny dear young friends,
who read the Guardian, that we promised
to give ydu some further account of Caro
line and Sophia. When we mentioned them
last, Caroline had just turned out to see
the world : Sophia had devoted herself to
the service of God and the Saviour. They
were both diligent in the profession. Car
oline thought of nothing but dressing, dan
cing parties, company, &c. Her waking
hours were wholly devoted la Inis objiwl m
and even’ in her dreams, she was generally
repeating \he scenes of the day. Sophia
became teacher of a class in the Sunday
School, to which she was very attentive,
and which soon became one of the best
classes in the school. She joined the Fe
male Bible Society, a Female Missionary
Association, and another female Society for
visiting and comforting the poor when sick
and distressed. These Societies required
a small annual contribution in money.
This money she determined to raise by •
little more industry every day ; and by
saving a little in the expense of her cloth
ing. Through the blessing of God on this
industry, and this saving, she had, at the
end of the year,the full amount which these
societies required, and something more for
other charitable purposes. She spent more
than her proportion of time in visiting
the poor *nnd the sick; she visited, at
their own houses, all the children in her
class in the Sunday School, once every
three months. Both the children and their
parents were always delighted to see her
coming. The poor and the sick were al
ways pleased when it was Sophia’s week
to visit them : for the members of this So
ciety always visited in turn. Sophia per
severed in the most cheerful obedience to
her mother, was punctual in the discharge
of all her religious duties, both publick
and private, and made a very pleasing pro
gress in the knowledge and practice of true
religion. Caroline, decked out in ell the
ornaments and tine things that money could
procure, with a number of companions,
both male and female, like herself, was
hurried from one scene, of what she called
pleasure and amusement, to another. Her
parents had indulged her so long that now
they had no authoritv over her. She nev
er thought of regarding their wishes, un
less they agreed with her own way. When
she could get two or three of her compan
ions to go with her, she would go to church.
She had never been taught to fear God, or
respect religion. But now her conduct
was more indecent than ever. The con
gregation saw Ler come in with dread and
sorrow : for they were sure to be interrupt
ed with her impious levity. She would
take the most conspicuous seat in the
church she couid get, and, in the most
shameless manner, laugh and talk during
the whole service. Once or twice (he
clergyman thought it his duty to give her a
gentle reproof; but she did not regard it .
she seemed rather gratified with it, be
cause it attracted mure notice. God was
not in all her thoughts. Caroline, during
this season of her gaiety and merriment,
often passed Sophia, but never spoke to
her, nor seemed to know her. And yet
there was one circumstance happened be
tween, which, I hope, you will be pleased
to hear. Mrs. Wells, a poor woman, was
very ill; and, for several days, it was
thought she would not live ; but the doc
tor now said she was better, and likely to
recover. It was Sophia’s week to visit the
sick. She was returning from her visit to
Mrs. Wells ; and the joy which she felt
from the hope of the poor woman’s recove
ry, was strongly expressed in her counte
nance. Caroline was rolling by, in her
fine carriage, wjh two or three of her com
panions. One of them, Miss Fitzborn, was
struck with Sophia’s appearance ; and ask
ed who that was. O, said Caroline, it’s
Soph Burney; I suppose she has been
whining and praying with some of the beg
gars ! This remark, together with Sophi
a’s induced Miss Fitzborn to
inquire after Mrs. Burney; and ur.e even
ing, after darky she ventured to call, and
spent half an hour in conversation with
Mrs. Burney and Sophia. A few days
after this conversation, Miss Fitzborn left
the place and returned home, which was
about fifty miles distant. Such was the im
pression she carried with her, that she for
sook her gay companions and amusements,
commenced reading the Bible, visiting the
poor and the sick, opened a Sunday School,
and has, ever since, been diligent in doing
good. No person doubts the sincerity of
her piety. 1
In the same town in which Mr. Foster
lived, Mr. Carlton, a young gentleman of
handsome person, and French manners,
had commenced business as a merchant.
His capital was small, but it wa3 thought,
with prudence and attention to business, lie
might succeed. He was, however, more
fond of amusement and pleasure, than was
consistent with his interest. He paid his
addresses to Caroline, and shortly after
they were married. Caroline determined
to have a splendid establishment of her
own. She might have lived with her fa
ther, as she was his only child ; but this
would not satisfy her; she must see com
pany at home. Anew carriage, and furni
ture of the most expensive kind, were pro
cured ; and they lived in the highest style.
Sophia received proposals of marriage
from Mr. Henson, a young man who had
commenced business as a mechanick ; his
proposals were accepted, and they were
married. Mrs. Burney resigned to them
her house, and lived with them as one of
the family. Mr. Henson was sober, indus
trious and pious. His business increased
every month ; for he was always punctual
to his promise, and truly honest in doing
his work. His customers were so pleased,
(hat they recommended him to all their ac
quaintances. He soon became quite inde
pendent in his circumstances. One of the
greatest pleasures he derived from this,
was, that Sophia able to give more than
she had done, to charitable and religious
purposes.
Five years after Caroline’s marriage, her
father died; and on the settlement of his
affairs, it was found that he was worth no
thing ; every part of his property was bare
ly sufficient to pay his debts, which were
demanded with great rigour. Mr. Carlton
had great expectations from the wealth of
his father in law: but was now obliged
of disappoint mjnt, for
he knew the consequence, fix months afj
terwards he tailed. Ail his property, his
be<ls, and even the least article of kitchen
furniture,was sold under the hammer, and a
large amount remained, still unpaid. Mr.
Carlton determined not to bear the shock.
Next morning after the sale, he borrowed
a pistol, walked a little distance from town,
and shot hitnself; for he had no 3ense of
religion to keep him from such a horrid
crime. Caroline was now left with two
small children, without a cent, and almost
without a friend. Her former companions
in folly and vanity now deserted her. She
had treated those whom she considered be
low her with so much neglect and haughti
ness, that very few of them even pitied her.
She wms permitted to go into a small house
on the back streets ; and supported herself
for several months, by selling her clothes.
This resource at length failed, and she was
brought to absolute want. Her children
suffered for clothing, and cried for bread.
Though in great distress, yet she was too
proud to let it be known that she could re
ceive any thing in charity'. There was
scarcely any kind of work she knew liow
to do. She could have danced, for she
was better at that than any thing else ; but
no person would pay her for it. She
might obtain employment as a teacher of
musick, or needle work ; but she is not ca
pable of teaching ; for she had neglected
these branches of her education. Misera
ble in this world, she is unprepared for the
next; for all her distress has not led her to
God as her refuge. Sophia often passes by
her door after dark, and giving a gentle
tap, leaves something on the sill for Caro
line and her chifdren, and then walks on,
that it may not be known who left it.
Sophia enjoys all the comforts and con
veniences of life. Though not wealthy,
yet she is respected by all, on account of
her piety and usefulness; by her friends
and acquaintance she is dearly beloved.
From this short history', my dear young
friends learn the difference between obedi
ence and disobedience to your parents;
between industry and idleness ; between a
life of usefulness, and one that is useful to
nobody; between the service of God, and
the service of sin. Let this truth dwell in
your minds and impress your hearts—‘‘God
liness is profitable unto all things, having
promise of the life that now is, and of that
which is to come. Y. F.
oOJfOo——
WONDERS OF CREATION.
Remarks on Physical Creation , bij Rev. Da
vid Simpson.
The grand evidence of Christianity rests
beyond doubt on the claims of Revelation ;
but this consideration should not prevent
our attention to the auxiliary testimony
which is furnished by the Author of nature
in his physical creation.
While we daily study the former, we
shall do well to pay all due attention to the
latter, according to our opportunities of in
vestigation. To an enlightened observer,
they both carry indubitable marks of their
great Original. ‘ The heavens declare the
glory of God, and the earth is full of his
riches.’ The most perfect catalogue of
stars before Hersche! appeared,did not con
tain quite 5000, but by the vast superiority
of his glasses, he hath discovered 44,000
stars in a few degrees of the heavens ; and
by the same proportion, it is supposed that
75,000,000 are exposed in the expanse to
human investigation. Lalande supposes
that a glass of Herschel’s power may dis
cover 90 millions of stars in the whole sur
face of the heavens, and that even this
number is but small in comparison with
what exists. All these stars are of a fiery
nature, and conjectured to be so many suns
with their systems of planets moving round
them. We know the sun to be the centre
of the system. It is accompanied with 29
planets, besides about 450 comets. What
an amazing idea does this give us of the
works of God ! And if ’’such be the work,
what must the Workman be !
Every part of nature, with which we are
acquainted, is full of living creatures, with
stores of every kind to supply their neces
sities. This little globe of ours is known
to contain within its bowels a great variety
of valuable minerals, and to be covered by
about 20,000 different species of vegeta
bles, 3,000 species of worms, 120,000 spe
cies of insects, 200 species of amphibious
animats, 550 species of birds, 2,600 species
of fish, and 200 species of quadrupeds.—
How immense then must be the number of j
individuals ! One fly is found to bring forth j
2,000 at a time, and a single cod-fish to pro- j
duceconsiderably more than three millions!
and a half of young. Ltwenhoeck tells us j
that there are more animals in the melt of
a single cod-fish than there are men upon !
the whole earth ! And when it is consider-1
ed, that the earth itself, with all its furni- j
ture, is no more, when compared with the i
whole system of things, than a single grain J
of sand when compared with a huge moun-!
tain, we are lost in the immensity of God’s 1
works, and constrained to cry out, ‘ Lord, i
what is man that thou art mihdful of him, i
or the son of man that thou visitest him !’;
And if to this immensity of the works of.
creation, we add the admirable structure of
the whole, and the exquisite perfection of
every part, we shall not fail of being ex- :
ceedingly affected with the ineffable wis
dom of the Divine Architect. To bring
this consideration more within the grasp
of human comprehension, let us take to
pieces and examine the several parts of
any one creature which God hath made ;
and we shall find a perfection among its sev- j
era! powers, and an adaption of its situation j
in the grand scale of existence, farsurpas-j
sing human skill. Let the most perfect
anatomist that ever existed, make his ob
servations upon the human frame : let him
examine with the greatest possible atten
tion, the tout ensemble of the structure, then
hjfahim proceed to the several parts, of
‘Vvmch the microcosm is composed ; first,
tfife jSoweftsSjf the mind ;#tbe understand
ing, tnte viT!7the ndfcmor’^nie Iftinscience,
and the various affections ; next the five
senses—tWe touch, the taste, the smell, thn
hearing, and the sight ; afterwards let him
proceed to the* sewer a I fluids of the body ;
and then to the 300 bones, the 40 different
sorts of glands, the 466 muscles, the 40
pair of nerves, the fibres, the membranes,
the arteries, the veins, the lyniphaalucts,
the excretory vessels, the tendons, the lig
aments, the cartilages ; and let him ex
plore the whole and every part with the
greatest degree of accuracy, knowledge
and judgment that ever centered in man;
and then let him honestly say, whether he.
could suggest the very smallest irpprove
ment in any one respect. If he were an
atheist before such an investigation, like
the celebrated Galen, he would be convert
ed to the belief of the Divine Existence,
would compose a hymn in praise of tho
Creator ot the world, and sjng wiih the
great progenitor of mankind:
“ These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty, thine tiiis universal frame.
Thus wondrous fair! Thyself how wondrous then?
Unspeakable ! who sitt’st above these heavens,
To us invisible or dimly seen
In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare
Thy goodness beyond thought,and power divine.”
GENERAL SUMMARY.
Charleston, Jan. 13.
From a notice in the Boston Recorder,
it appears that, by the advice of physicians,
and at the request of the Prudential Com
mittee of the A. B. Commissioners for For
eign Missions, the Corresponding Secreta
ry (Dr. Worcester) of the Board, was to
embark at Boston, about the Ist of January,
for New Orleans, for the benefit of a sea
voyage, and a southern winter ; and with a
view to objects of importance at the Mis
sionary establishments in the Choctaw and
Cherokee Nations.
Mr. Ward is said to have been success
ful in collecting funds for the College in
Serampore, from Christians of all denomi
nations in N. York, New Haven, Hartford,
and Worcester. He preached in several
of the pulpits of Boston, during the week
ending on Saturday, Dec. 23d, and was on
the evening of that day to deliver a discourse
on the subject of Hindoo education in the
Park st. church, with a view to a collection
for the promotion of that object.
We are so struck by it, that we cannot
help remarking the prodigious, superiority
ofhenevolent interest in the towns of the
North and East, which these facts exhibit.
In them the critical affair of a charity ser
mon may be successfully transacted any
evening in the week. How doleful would be
the issue of such an experiment in out
good city. But we are willing to hope that
the times are about to change with us.
A noble benefaction was made lately to
the Belfast (Ireland) Charitable Society.—
In a collection in Dr. Mana’s church for
that institution, two bank post bills of£soo
each were found in the receiving plates.
In the list of benefactions to the Thelog
ical Seminary at Andover, are the following
—Samuel Abbott, Esq. SIOO,OO0 —William
Bartlett, Esq. s4o,ooo—Mrs. Norris. S3O,
000—Wm. Phillips, & Son, $15,000 —John
Norris, Esq. slo,ooo Rufus Brown, Esq.
10,000. Evan. Intel.
THE MISSIONARY.
MOUNT ZION, FRIDAY, FEB. 2, 1821.
Within the course of a few years, a material
change has taken place in the publick opinion
upon the importance and necessity of an educa
tion for a Minister of the Gospel. It is now al
most universally conceded that no one ought to
sustain so important an office without previous
preparation, and that he who undertakes to teach
others, should himself first be taught. The gen
eral prevalence of this sentiment is the natural
consequence of the more extended information
which has been diffused through the community
by the instrumentality of schools, academies
colleges. In no nation, a*d in no period of our
own history, have the concerns of education com
manded so much attention as they do in this
country at the present time. While the publick
mind is thus enlightened, it would be strange in
deed if the clergy should be the only class of peo
ple doomed to ignorance and insignificance. But
it may be said to the credit of every denomination
of Christians, that they are now vieing with each,
other in establishing seminaries of learning, and’
in furnishing facilities for the education of those
who are designed for the Ministry. Though these
institutions and these measures are yet in their
infancy, their beneficial effects are already seen
and acknowledged, and at no distant period their
importance and utility will be more fully devel
oped. There is however one subject intimately
connected with the foregoing, which has not
claimed so much publick attention and upoJ
which even among professing Christians there is
much difference of opinion. We allude to the ■
importance, the necessity and the obligation of
furnishing the Preacher of the Gospel an adequate
support.
In the remarks we may make upon this subject,
we wish it to be distinctly understood that we
are not actuated hy any unfriendly or uncharitable
motives towards those who differ from us in opin
ion. Convinced in our own minds, that the full
benefits of the Gospel will not be experienced in
this country until there is a material change of
opinion in this particular, and believing that such
a change will take place, we profess to be guided
by a pure regard for the best interests of religion
and of society. Nor must it be supposed that we
are contending that the minister of the Gospel
should be enabled to live in a style of splendour
above his fellow citizens, but only that he should
be above want, and sustain an equal rank with
the respectable part of the community 0 f whioli
he is a member,
