potic polity with which the successors of Wesley have continued to burden their churches, under circumstances so different from those existing in the days of their founder. Time is a severe commentator upon every religious reform. Enthusiasm is apt to end in license or tyranny. To which issue Methodism is more likely to tend, grave history must ere long record. That record, whatever it may be, will leave no stain upon the memory of Wesley. If Whitehead gives the true view of the rise of Methodism, Wesley's better genius would be as much honored by the prevalence of a more independent spirit, as by the continued or increasing consolidation of the order.

Wesley's death took place, as we have seen, March 2d, 1791. England little appreciated the man whom she had lost. The Established Church, of which he continued a minister to the last, and in the bosom of which until shortly before his decease he had desired his people to remain simply as a religious society, gave him little benediction, shutting against him the pulpits that were open to clerical Nimrods and Bacchanals.

Look from Wesley's death-bed towards France; and on the morrow the streets of Paris exhibited a scene that should have proved to the conservatives of England the worth of him who could impress upon the neglected masses the sentiment of religion. The sacred vessels of the Parisian churches were carried to the mint to be coined into that which is called the "sinew of war." England followed not France in the desecration. A sentiment of reverence guarded, and still guards, her altars. The tombs of her saints and sages were not to be violated as were those of France, nor their ashes to be scattered to the winds, that the lead of their coffins might be moulded into bullets. Hearts, by thousands, once rude and violent, were now at peace with God, living in recognition of a heavenly kingdom, and chanting holy hymns instead of shouting fiendish curses. Myriads once crushed beneath poverty and toil had been rescued, and, with the faith and love of the Gospel, every good gift had been given. America, too, had shared the blessing; her remote borders had been visited by the missionaries of Methodism, and her forests had rung with their thrilling hymns.

The founder of the great society rested not in St. Paul's nor Westminster Abbey. The ruling powers did not desire it, although they did not deny such consecrated ground to a

Nor did

profligate man of genius, or a blasphemous soldier. Wesley desire to be buried away from his people. His remains were laid beneath the chapel in which he had so often preached.

Rest in peace, soul of John Wesley! we are all ready to say. May the English race, in all its branches, bless that name. As for us, we take leave of his memory now by applying to him his own tribute to Whitefield in the sermon upon his death, in 1770:

"Who is a man of a catholic spirit? One who loves as friends, as brethren in the Lord, as joint partakers of the present king. dom of heaven and fellow-heirs of his eternal kingdom, all, of whatever opinion, mode of worship, or congregation, who believe in the Lord Jesus; who love God and man; who, rejoicing to please and fearing to offend God, are careful to abstain from evil and zealous of good works. He is a man of a truly catholic spirit who bears all these continually upon his heart; who, having an unspeakable tenderness for their persons, and an earnest desire for their welfare, does not cease to commend them to God in prayer, as well as to plead their cause before men; who speaks comfortably to them, and labors by all his words to strengthen their hands in God. He assists them to the uttermost of his power in things temporal and spiritual. He is ready to spend and be spent for them; yea, to lay down his life for them. How amiable a character is this! How desirable to every child of God!"

This portrait came from the painter's own soul. It might have been extravagant praise to bestow on George Whitefield. It is no more than truth, when applied to John Wesley.

Thoughts many and important are suggested by the survey that we have hastened through. This thought is most obvious, and is all that can be added: What an idea the history of Wesley and his work gives of the capacity of an individual, and of the productiveness of a single life! It is a great question, in our day, How may the largest crop be derived from an acre of ground? Far greater the question, How much efficient power can a life produce? Wesley's story is a stern homily on persevering, devoted, cheerful labor. "Work! work!" it cries, trumpet-tongued. "Work on, work ever, in faith and love!"

His method we know; what is ours? Let every conscience answer.

S. 0.

Bubiek.

ART. II. ON THE NEGLECT OF THE LORD'S SUPPER.

Is the number of church members, or regular partakers of the Lord's Supper, in our religious societies, such as ought to satisfy us, as Christians, that all is right? If not, what is the general extent of the neglect, what are its evils, the causes from which it proceeds, and the means to which we may resort for its removal?

That there does exist a very great neglect of the communion is a point which appears, unhappily, only too easy to prove. If a person unacquainted with the customs of Christian countries, a Mohammedan or an Asiatic Jew, were to enter one of our churches, and to be told that he was about to witness the rite commemorative of the founder of our religion, he would experience some surprise at the spectacle presented. Having just heard the whole assembly addressed in language implying that they were all believers in Christianity, having seen them all not only listening respectfully to the instructions of the preacher, but expressing by their posture that they united in the prayers which he offered, he now sees them, before the memorial rite is administered, retiring in such numbers as to leave for the moment a doubt whether any will remain to join in it. And when, on a second glance, he discovers some persons, mostly advanced in years or of the gentler sex, occupying seats at wide intervals in the pews which were but a moment before so crowded, he asks in surprise, Are these all the Christians in the assembly? And, if these be all the Christians present, he might continue, of what religion are the others? He has seen no mosque, no synagogue, no pagoda, in the city or the village. Is it possible that three fourths or more of the inhabitants are of no religion at all, believers in no God, and followers of no prophet?

The representation just given cannot be thought to be over-colored. We trust that there are churches among us, the aspect of which would be more encouraging. But in its general features, we believe that the representation we have given describes the true state of things in the worshipping assemblies of our own denomination.

Before inquiring into the causes, let us look for a moment at the evils of this neglect of the communion among us. Some, perhaps, may think that it would be a matter of little

consequence, if the non-observance of the rite were carried even farther than it is, that it is but one of the externals of religion, and may be dispensed with, as it is by the Society of Friends, while the spirit of Christianity is still pervading the hearts and influencing the lives of men.

To this we reply, that though the rite is undoubtedly, as all rites are, external, it by no means follows that it is of slight importance. Not to insist on the ground of positive requirement by our Saviour, it is an institution which beyond all others serves to connect the disciple with Christ as his Master. Our religion-the religion we profess to believe— is not simple Theism. It is Christianity; Theism as taught, developed, and proved by Jesus Christ. This is a distinction not always kept in view in addresses from the pulpit ; and even if the preacher remember it, the hearers are sometimes in danger of forgetting it, of substituting a general and very indefinite belief in a God, for that beautiful delineation which the Gospel presents to us, in which we are made to understand the character of the Father by seeing it reflected in the Son. In order to avoid this danger, to remain living branches of the sacred vine of which Christ is the root, we need something to remind us continually of him, to bring before us in vivid representation the traits of that perfect character which is to be the model of ours. The communion effects this in a way in which nothing else can. It effects it in part even for those who do not approach the table, as it generally suggests as the subject of the accompanying discourse something suited to lead the hearers to contemplate their Master. But to the faithful communicant it does far more. It recalls him from the wanderings of vague speculation, to sit an humble learner at the Saviour's feet. From cold reasoning it recalls him to warm feeling. It places before him the world's great pattern of forgiveness, patience, love, and devoted obedience, and tells him, This is thy Master; go and be thou like him.

By the prevalent neglect of the communion, all this is lost to thousands who ought to share its advantages. Nor is this all. An evil perhaps still greater exists in the supposed relaxation of the demands of duty, in favor of those who are not communicants. Highly as we value the influence of the Lord's Supper, we have sometimes been tempted for a moment to indulge the thought, that it were better not administered at all, than to be made, as it is, the privilege of a few.

For if by uniting in it those few express their belief, so by declining may not the majority be said to express their disbelief, or at least their unwillingness to receive the yoke of Christ? And making this negative profession, and being supported in it by the fellowship of thousands, what more natural than that they should live according to it? And thus they do live in many instances, apparently without a thought that they are accountable to the law of Christ, because they have never in the appointed way owned allegiance to that law. An eminent Virginian, when censured for his conduct in reference to a fatal duel, replied on the floor of Congress to the following effect: "I am not a Christian. I honor Christianity, and hope that I may be a Christian at some future time. When I am so, I shall, I trust, act according to that profession. But at present my principles and my practice are those of the cavalier; my code is that of honor." Did he mean to assert that he was not a believer in the truth of the Christian religion? Not at all. His declaration, that he hoped to be a Christian at some future time, was an admission to the contrary. He only meant that he was not a church-member, "a professor," as the phrase is, and therefore, as he reasoned, was not accountable to the laws of religion for the part he had borne in the fatal deed. He spoke according to the views generally entertained on the subject through the greater part of our country, and I fear too prevalent even in New England.

Contemplate the subject in another point of view. The communion, as it is now observed, or rather as it is now neglected, becomes a snare for weak consciences. A young man grows up, and does not feel that strong religious impulse which is necessary to make him break through the prevailing custom and become a church-member. Still, he is sufficiently aware of his duty to make him feel that he has done wrong in neglecting it. There is then a sin committed, recognized, and persevered in. What a deeply injurious influence upon the character must proceed from the consciousness that this is the case! In those denominations which encourage their adherents to expect especial calls from God, this evil would be diminished. The young man would justify himself by the plea that he was waiting God's time, and would thus be saved in part from the debasing effects of conscious wrong-doing. But to a believer in our opinions this excuse would not be available.