proceedings, it will ever appear more probable, that you are prejudiced in your own favour, than that the church, which could have no ground of prejudice, should unjustly condemn your conduct as unchristian. And I must say, that from all that I have heard of the case, their proceedings were perfectly correct; and there was no good reason to wait for new evidence, when there was enough already proved, on which to found the censure which they passed. But under the impression that you were hurried into trial, and that some of the judges were prejudiced, you seem entirely to have lost sight of the real criminality of your own conduct. You seemed to feel that if you could succeed in making the publick believe, that the church had acted precipitately and irregularly, on your trial, that it would follow of course that you were innocent. This, however, is very far from being a just inference. If I understand the facts in the case, you might have been, and ought to have been, excluded from the communion of the church, upon your own confession. You acknowledged that you went to Mr. W.'s store and took up goods to a considerable amount, on the repeated declaration, that Mr. B. would be responsible for the payment; whereas, this gentleman knew nothing of the transaction. It was a downright fraud. It would have been forgery if the transaction had been in writing. And I am informed, that these goods, thus fraudulently and by means of falsehood, obtained, are not paid for to this day. By various pretences and subterfuges Mr. W. has been prevented from prosecuting you, and still you are living at your ease, with the hard earned money of your neighbour in your pocket, without his con sent. I am strongly tempted here to make some remarks on the mysterious settlement of your busi ness, as treasurer of a certain be- And now, Sir, permit me solemnly to put it to your own conscience, whether I am not right in conjecturing, that while you were making a great exertion to preserve your character in the sight of men, you were not living secretly, in known sin; such, as even now to hear named, would cause you to blush? This is a question for your own conscience. I would not wish to know the answer. If I did, I should never think of proposing the question, with that view, to you; for I should have no expectation of hearing the truth from your lips, in such a case. But now,having acquired a worldly competency, and more, by your recent marriage; and having united yourself with the Universalists, you have become very bold, not to say, arrogant. I understand that you are in the habit of making a jest of experimental religion, averring that you have gone the whole length, and that there is nothing in it but enthusiasm, or hypocrisy. As to your adopting the tenets of the modern Universalists, who hold that there is no future punishment, I can only say, that the doctrine suits you; but if you were a real Christian, you would be as safe and comfortable without it. That you have been brought to embrace this doctrine by the evidence of truth, I shall can hardly never believe-and think you believe it yourself. You must be conscious, that there has been some tampering with reason and conscience on this subject. But leaving these things to the judgment of Him who will bring every secret thing to light, I will pass on to observe, that you gain very little by your apparent confidence, and arrogant challenging all who deny the doctrine of universal salvation. Before either your arguments or assertions will produce much effect on the prudent, you must satisfy them on a preliminary point, viz. why it is that this doctrine is the refuge of those who are evidently flying from God? Why it is greedily embraced by the debauched part of society? Why the truly devout and pious abhor it? And how comes it to pass that you should first make this great discovery when manifestly, in the opinion of all who know you, your principles and character as a man of truth and honesty to say nothing of piety-are in a course of rapid deterioration. It may be disagreeable to you that I speak thus plainly my opinion of your moral condition: it is, indeed, painful to me, but I have a duty to perform, which, when it is executed, I shall bid you farewell, probably for ever; and leave you to your own reflections. My object is not to dispute with you about future punishment-for I hear that you are a great polemic -but simply to give you one more solemn warning. The relation in which I have stood to you makes this my duty, and authorizes me to speak without disguise. But I am surprised, that when flying from the church, and from the truth, you should ever have thought of seeking refuge in Universalism. Why did you stop short of open infidelity, or blank atheism? Or do you think that your system brings as much comfort to the sinner as atheism itself? But why trammel yourself with the Scrip tures, since they can never be made, by any perversion, to favour your beloved tenet? You might as well pretend that no such person as Jesus Christ was ever mentioned in the New Testament, as that the doctrine of future punishment is not inculcated there. It would really be ridiculous, were not the subject so grave, to see the pitiful shifts and perversions, to which resort is had, to remove out of the way the plain declarations of Holy Scripture, on this subject. I have found by long experience, that when men's reason becomes perverted beyond a certain point, nothing is too extravagant for them to believe; or to profess to believe. It would be just as wise to argue with the inmates of Bedlam as with such. They are no more capable of feeling the force of an argument-or of acknowledging it-than a man whose eyes are obstinately shut, of seeing the objects around him. In regard to such, the admonitions of our Lord seems to be, "Let them alone.""If the blind lead the blind both must fall into the ditch." Before I heard of your conversion to the doctrine of the Universalists, I still followed you, not only with prayer but hope: but now, I must confess, that my hopes are nearly extinct; and whether I should continue to pray for you, is become a serious case of conscience with me. There is a line, over which, when a man has passed, we may not pray for him, if we know it; that is, when he hath sinned a sin unto death. "For it is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they shall fall away to renew them again to repentance." I am afraid, if your eyes should now be opened to see the enormity of your sin, that you would not be able to say with Paul, "I did it ignorantly;" much disappointed in my hopes of but having "received the know- any one-but my affection no doubt ledge of the truth," and afterwards blinded me to your faults, at that having wilfully sinned," there time. Others saw with different would be nothing remaining for eyes. Well; my task is ended,you but " a fearful looking for of I send forth this last epistle with judgment and fiery indignation." an humble prayer that God may Although I write these fearful melt your heart, and enlighten things, I have a feeble hope that your eyes. O that it might yet the event will be more favourable, please Him, who has the hearts of and that you will make haste to all men in his hand, to grant you recover yourself out of the snare repentance unto life, and the reof the devil, by whom you have mission of sins! Amen. been led captive at his will. Listen, I beseech you, to the deep, secret whisper of conscience, (if, alas, it be not seared,) within your own bosom. There must be, at times, a secret misgiving, and an awful foreboding, that all may not end well. I have now brought this address nearly to a close; and as already intimated, it will probably be the last warning which you will ever receive from me. My days are drawing to an end-my time is much occupied with other weighty' concerns. It may seem strange to you, that after so long a silence, I should now trouble you with such a serious call. Of this I can myself hardly give any rational account. While confined to my chamber with sickness, the recollection of many past scenes revived, and among other objects, I thought of you-for whom I once entertained so tender an affection-and I felt a sudden impulse to address you. Instantly, I obeyed the feeling, and thus you have a long, and, I am afraid, unwelcome epistle, from the sick chamber of a former friend. Would to God I could snatch you as a brand from the burning! My inmost soul is moved with compassion towards you. There is no sacrifice, or penance-if lawful which I would not perform for your salvation. I once thought that I should present you as one of my spiritual children before the throne of God. I was never so Yours, &c. From the Christian Observer for Sept. MEMORIALS OF PIOUS NEGROES: CORNELIUS OF ST. CROIX. A very interesting Moravian missionary station for more than a hundred years has been that of St. Croix, one of the Danish West Indian islands, which was captured by Great Britain, in the year 1801. We might relate many remarkable facts relative to this mission and its pious and zealous conductors; one of whose greatest afflictions was to witness the barbarities exercised upon the Negroes, many of whom suffered bonds, and imprisonment, and stripes, for their adherence to the Gospel. But, passing by these general narratives, we turn our attention for the present to the edifying life of a humble convert, once a poor degraded slave, but even then Christ's freeman; and now an inhabitant of that blessed world where oppression is unknown, and sorrow and sighing have for ever fled away. The following is the account left upon record of him, in the Annals of the Moravian Missions: "Towards the close of the year 1801, the mission in St. Croix was deprived of one of the most intelligent and useful native assistants, who for more than fifty years had walked worthily of his calling by the Gospel-namely, the Negro Cornelius. This man was in many respects distinguished among his countrymen, which will render the following brief sketch of his life interesting. "Above fifty years ago he became concerned for the salvation of his soul, and felt a strong impulse to attend the preaching of our missionaries, and their private instructions. However, he could not at once forsake his heathenish customs. It happened once that he attended the merry-making of his countrymen. Even into this house of riot the good Shepherd followed this poor straying sheep. The late brother Frederic Martin, passing by, and being made attentive to the uproar, looked in at the door, and immediately espied his scholar Cornelius. He beckoned to him to come out, and, in a friendly but serious and emphatic address, represented to him, that it was not becoming for one who had declared that he would give his heart to our Savionr, to attend cuch meetings as these. 'Here,' said the missionary, 'the devil has his work, and you have assured me that you will not be his slave. But now I discover that your heart is still in his power; for you love the vanities of the world, and the company of the children of disobedience, in whom he rules. It would therefore be better that you left off coming to our meetings, and to the school.' This offended him greatly, and he thought, 'What is that to the White man, and what do I care for him?' However, his amusement was spoiled for that time; he went home much displeased, and resolved never more to visit the missionaries, or attend their meetings. But his heart was not at rest, and his convictions grew so strong that he could not sleep at night. The address of the missionary sounded continually in his ears, and made so strong an impression upon him, that he altered his mind and visited him. Being received, not, as he feared, with displeasure, but with great cordiality, he was exceedingly affected, and with tears described the distress of his mind during the preceding days. "In 1749, he was baptized, and ever after remained faithful to the grace conferred on him. He had an humbling and growing sense of the depravity of his heart, but he also made daily progress in the knowledge and grace of his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. "God had blessed him with a good natural understanding. He had learned the business of a mason well, and had the appointment of master-mason to the royal buildings, in which employment he was esteemed by all who knew him, as a clever, upright, and disinterested man. He laid the foundation of each of the six chapels belonging to our mission in these islands. He was able to write and speak the Creole, Dutch, Danish, German, and English languages; which gave him a great advantage above the other Negroes. Till 1767, he was a slave in the royal plantation, which af terwards belonged to Count Schimmelman. He first purchased the freedom of his wife, and then laboured hard to gain his own liberty, which, after much entreaty, and the payment of a considerable ransom, he effected. God blessed him and the work of his hands in such a manner, that he could also by degrees purchase the emancipation of his six children. "In 1754, he was appointed assistant in the mission. After his emancipation, he greatly exerted himself in the service of the Lord, especially among the people of his own colour, and spent whole days, and often whole nights, in visiting them on the different plantations. He possessed a peculiar talent for expressing his ideas with great clearness, which rendered Ins discourses pleasing and edifying, as well to White people as to Negroes. Yet he was by no means elated by the talents he possessed. His character was that of an humble servant of Christ, who thought too meanly of himself to treat others with contempt. To distribute to the indigent and assist the feeble was the delight of his heart, and they always found in him a generous and sympathizing friend and faithful adviser. "While thus zealously exerting himself in promoting the salvation of his countrymen, he did not neglect the concerns of his family. We have already seen how sedulously he cared for their temporal prosperity, in working hard to purchase their freedom. But he was more solicitous for the welfare of their souls. God blessed his instructions, and he had the joy of seeing his whole family share in the salvation of the Lord. Being found faithful, they were employed as assistants in the mis sion. "The infirmities of old age increasing upon him, he ardently longed to depart and be with Christ. A constant cough, and pain in his side, checked his great activity, caused occasional dejection of mind, and seemed at times to shake his faith and fortitude. He now and then complained of a declension of his love to the Lord Jesus; and once, while meditating on that text, 'I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first love,' he exclaimed, 'Ah! I too have left my first love!' A few days before his end, being visited by one of the missionaries, he said, 'I ought to have done more, and loved and served my Saviour better: yet I firmly trust that he will receive me in mercy, for I come to him as a poor sinner, having nothing to plead but his grace and righteousness through his blood.' His children and several of his grandchildren having assembled round his bed, he adCh. Adv.-VOL. XI. dressed them in the following very "I rejoice exceedingly, my You know, dear children, what my chief concern has been respecting you, as long as I was with you; how frequently I have exhorted you not to neglect the day of grace, but to surrender yourselves with soul and body to your Redeemer, and to follow him faithfully. Sometimes I have dealt strictly with you, in matters which I believed would bring harm to your souls, and grieve the Spirit of God; and I have exerted my parental authority to prevent mischief; but it was all done out of love to you. However, it may have happened that I have someIf this has times been too severe. been the case, I beg you, my dear children, to forgive me; oh, forgive your poor dying father.' "Here he was obliged to stop, most of the children weeping and sobbing aloud. At last one of his daughters recovered herself, and said, 'We, dear father, we alone have cause to ask forgiveness, for we have often made your life heavy, and have been disobedient children.' The rest joined in the same confession. The father then continued: "Well, my dear children, if all of you have forgiven me, then attend to my last wish Love one anoand dying request. ther! Do not suffer any quarrels and disputes to arise among you after my decease. No, my children,' raising his voice, 'love one another cordially: let each strive to show proofs of love to his brother or sister. Nor suffer yourselves to be tempted by any thing to become proud, for by that you may even miss of your soul's salvation; but pray our Saviour to grant you lowly minds and hum 3 Z |
