instance, in the following words expressed by the spiritually-minded Joseph Alleine, after his own release from prison, to one still unjustly suffering:

"I can tell you little good of myself; but this I can tell you—that the promises of God were never so sweet in this world to me as in and since my imprisoned state. Oh the bottomless riches of the covenant of grace! It shames

me that I have let such a treasure lie by so long, and have made so little use of it. Never did my soul know the heaven of a believer's life, till I learnt to live a life of praise, and by more frequent consideration, to set home. the unspeakable riches of the divine promises, to which, I trust, through grace, I am made an heir. I verily perceive that all our work were done at once, if we could but prevail with ourselves and others to live like believers; to tell all the world by our course and carriage, that there is such pleasantness in Christ's ways, such beauty in holiness, such reward to obedience, as we profess to believe. May ours and our people's conversations, but preach this aloud to the world: that there is a reality in what God hath promised; that heaven is worth the venturing for; that the sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us!"*

This good man, in his last publication, thus deplores the decay of godliness :-"Friends, it is matter of astonishment to consider how very few lively Christians there are to be found amongst us. Thus we every one talk."+

* Stanford's Alleine, p. 304.

"Instructions about Heart-work," p. 114.

T

During the indulgence granted in 1672, there was, once more, open and frequent and fervent preaching, in houses and conventicles. Lectureships were established, and for about three years the word of the Lord was again freely disseminated. But a suspicion of the object of government, and a sense of the precarious tenure of the new liberty, clouded the minds of God's people. Nevertheless, there was a commendable amount of activity in the supply of religious teaching,—very much confined, however, to the gathered flocks, and not outward in its scope.

A bright beam of light falls upon the religicus condition of the working classes in England from the record of Bunyan's early life. His wife's father was counted for a godly man though he had no other worldly goods to leave to his daughter, he gave her "The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven," and "The Practice of Piety." The daughter fondly recounted to her husband, how her father would reprove and correct vice, both in his house and among his neighbours; and what a strict and holy life he lived in his days, both in words and deeds. Although Bunyan himself at this time had no relish for the beauty of holiness, yet the possibility and pattern of it in his own sphere had an attraction for his spirit, which greatly helped him to leave off sinning and turn to the Lord. Another illustration of the same kind is afforded by the well-known incident in his youth, of the godly women at Bedford sitting in the sunshine, discussing the things which concern the kingdom of heaven.

"Upon a day, the good providence of God called me to Bedford, to work at my calling; and in one of the streets

of that town, I came where there were three or four poor women sitting at a door, in the sun, talking about the things of God; and being now willing to hear their discourse, I drew near to hear what they said, for I was now a brisk talker of myself, in the matters of religion; but I may say, I heard but understood not; for they were far above, out of my reach. Their talk was about a new-birth, the work of God in their hearts, as also how they were convinced of their miserable state by nature; they talked how God had visited their souls with his love in the Lord Jesus, and with what words and promises they had been refreshed, comforted and supported against the temptations of the devil moreover, they reasoned of the suggestions and temptations of Satan in particular; and told to each other, by what means they had been afflicted and how they were borne up under his assaults. They also discoursed of their own wretchedness of heart, and of their un belief; and did contemn, slight, and abhor their own right eousness, as filthy, and insufficient to do them any good.

"And, methought, they spake as if joy did make them speak; they spake with such pleasantness of scripture language, and with such appearance of grace in all they said, that they were to me as if they had found a new world; as if they were 'people that dwelt alone, and were not to be reckoned among their neighbours.'

"At this I felt my own heart began to shake, and mistrust my condition to be naught; for I saw that in all my thoughts about religion and salvation, the new-birth did never enter into my mind; neither knew I the comfort of the word and promise, nor the deceitfulness and treachery

of my own wicked heart. As for secret thoughts, I took no notice of them; neither did I understand what Satan's temptations were, nor how they were to be withstood and resisted, &c.

"Thus, therefore, when I had heard and considered what they said, I left them, and went about my employment again, but their talk and discourse went with me; also my heart would tarry with them, for I was greatly affected with their words, both because by them I was convinced that I wanted the true tokens of a truly godly man, and also because by them I was convinced of the happy and blessed condition of him that was such a one.

"Therefore I would often make it my business to be going again and again into the company of these poor people ; for I could not stay away; and the more I went among them, the more I did question my condition; and as I still do remember, presently I found two things within me, at which I did sometimes marvel, especially considering what a blind, ignorant, sordid and ungodly wretch but just before I was. The one was a very great softness and tenderness of heart, which caused me to fall under the conviction of what by scripture they asserted, and the other was a great bending in my mind to a continual meditating on it, and on all other good things which at any time I heard or read of.”*

John Bunyan is one of the most vigorous Christian characters enrolled in history. He lived in and for both worlds; the things of time and sense, and the things of eternity and faith, obtained proportionate measures of his * "Grace Abounding,” ch. ii.

sympathy, thought, and care. As a neighbour, friend, counsellor, preacher, teacher, administrator, and author, he shone, without any other effort than the unwearying desire to serve Christ and glorify God.

Very rarely, in the nature of things, can we obtain a glimpse of that fellowship of the Spirit which yet to a large extent, pervades the Church in all ages;-the sympathy which is enkindled by common resources in heaven above, and kept up by common liabilities in the world below. In the MS. records of a small church gathered at Cockermouth in 1676, we read, that on April 14th the congregation met, and spent some hours in prayer for the Church of Christ in New England, on account of troubles by the Indians. So again on the 9th of June: and on the 22nd of September they kept a day of thanksgiving for "God's appearing for his people in New England: Blessed be God, who is a God hearing prayer.'

A pleasant instance do we get of religious friendship from an entry in the diary of Ralph Thoresby, the historian of Leeds, in the year 1692 :

"September 10th, afternoon. Had a letter recommendatory from Lord Wharton, for the eminent Mr. Howe of London; whose excellent company, with the Rev. Mr. Todd's, I enjoyed rest of day; and evening, his assistance in family duty.

"12th, morning.-Enjoyed Mr. Howe's assistance in family prayer; then accompanied him to Pontefract. Lord, preserve him from the danger of his journey, and convey him safe to his own habitation, that he may be continued as a blessing to his nation!"