"There is a twofold species of saving faith,—the faith of assurance, and the faith of adherence. The former the privilege of very few; the latter, the privilege of all true Christians. The former the most comfortable, but the latter equally safe. Trusting in an unseen Christ, will deceive no man: but if he may have the comforts of the Spirit, so much the better."

He now determined to search the Scriptures to see whether these things were so; and as he had never yet read the New Testament regularly through, he began that work; and, with deep attention and earnest prayer, read over the whole from beginning to end; spending in this employment almost every leisure moment. With this diligence the merciful God was well pleased, for he shed light both upon his heart, and upon his book. It was indeed a new book to him,-he read, and felt, and wept, and prayed; was often depressed, then encouraged; his eyes were opened, and he beheld wonders in this divine Law. By this reading he acquired and fixed his Creed in all its articles, not one of which he ever after found reason to change, though he had not as yet that full confidence of each, which he afterwards acquired. At this time he had read none of the writings of the Methodists; and from them he never learned that creed, which, on after examination, he found to be precisely the same with theirs. He could say, "I have not received my creed from man, nor by man." He learned it (without consulting bodies of divinity, human creeds, confessions of faith, or such like,)-from the fountain head of truth, the Oracles of the living God.

He now felt increasing anxiety, not only for his own soul, but for those of his family, his school-fellows, and his neighbours. He rejoiced to see numbers attending the word preached, and a society formed in an adjoining

village called Mullihicall, though himself never thought of becoming a member in it, or in any other. His mother had gone to see how what was called class-meeting was conducted, and on her return spoke highly of the meeting. She desired her son Adam to accompany her the next Lord's day to the said meeting. He went with some reluctance. After singing and prayer, the leader spoke to each person severally concerning his spiritual state. Adam listened with deep attention, and was surprised to hear one of his neighbours speak to this effect: "I was once darkness, but now I am light in the Lord : I was once a slave to sin, but now I am made free by the grace of Christ I once felt the horrors of a guilty conscience, but now I know and feel that God has blotted out my sins." He was deeply struck with these declarations ; and though he knew that this man had been a giddy foolish trifler, a drummer to a company of volunteers, yet knowing that he had seriously attended the preaching for some time, he had no doubt of the truth of this testimony. Some others expressed themselves in the same way; while others deplored their hardness of heart, and darkness of mind. He now began to feel very uneasy: he thought "this is no place for me to be in: I have no right to be here: these people should have none to witness their religious meetings, but those who belong to some society:" and, in short, he felt grieved that his mother should have been so inconsiderate as to have brought him there. He was afraid lest the leader should question him ; and he knew he had nothing to say that would be creditable to himself or profitable to others: at last he was questioned, and got off with a sort of general answer. The meeting broke up, and he was returning home, melancholy and unhappy. The leader, Mr. Andrew Hunter, of Coleraine, joined him on the road, and began to speak

to him on spiritual matters, in a most affectionate and pathetic way; earnestly pressed him to give his whole heart to God; for, said he, You may be a burning and shining light in a benighted land. Why these words should have deeply affected him he could not tell; but so it was he was cut to the heart instead of being rich and increased in spiritual goods, as he once fondly thought, he now saw that he was wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked. All his past diligence, prayer, reading, &c., appeared as nothing,-in vain he looked within and without for something to recommend him to God; but there was nothing,-multitudes of evils which before were undiscovered, were now pointed out to his conscience as by a sun-beam. He was filled with confusion and distress; wherever he looked he saw nothing but himself. The light which penetrated his mind, led him into all the chambers of the house of imagery; and everywhere he saw idols set up in opposition to the worship of the true God. He wished to flee from himself, and looked with envy on stocks and stones, for they had not offended a just God, and were incapable of bearing his displeasure.

The season was fine, the fields were beautifully clothed with green, the herds browsed contentedly in their pastures, and the birds were singing melodiously, some in the air, some in the trees and bushes; but, alas, his eyes and his ears were now no longer inlets to pleasure. In point of gratification, nature was to him a universal blank, for he felt himself destitute of the image and approbation of his Maker; and, besides this consciousness, there needed no other hell to constitute his misery. His doleful language was, "O that I knew where I might find Him, that I might come even to his seat! Behold, I go forward, but he is not there: and backward, but I cannot perceive

Him: on the left hand, where he doth work, but I cannot behold Him, he hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see Him."—Job xxiii. 3, 8, 9. He was afraid even to look towards God, because he felt himself unholy, and yet he knew that his help could come from none other than Him whom he had offended; and whose image he did not bear, and consequently could not have his approbation. On a subject of this kind, even an enemy to the Christian faith, may teach an important truth. "It was once demanded of the fourth Calif Aalee,-'If the canopy of heaven were a bow, and the earth were the cord thereof; if calamities were arrows, and mankind were the mark for these arrows! and if almighty God, the tremendous and the glorious, were the unerring Archer, to whom could the sons of Adam flee for protection?' The Calif answered, saying; 'The sons of Adam must flee unto the Lord.""-Teemour.

Mr. Barber, who had always watched over him for good, and had lately formed a class of those who desired to save their souls ;-without acquainting him with it, had entered Adam's name among the rest. When he heard this it did not please him, but he said, "Since they have put down my name, I will, by the help of God, meet with them ;" and he did so for several weeks. One morning he was detained by illness the next time he permitted a trifling hindrance to prevent him: and the third morning he felt no desire to go: thus he was absent three weeks.

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It pleased God at this time to permit Satan to sift him as wheat. It was a strong article in his creed that the Passion and Death of Christ were held out through the whole of the New Testament as sacrificial and expiatory; and that His Death was a sufficient ransom, sacrifice, and atonement for the sin of the world: for He, by the grace of God, had tasted death for every man. This doctrine was

the only basis of his hope; and yet he had not that faith by which he could lay hold on the merit of that Sacrifice for his personal salvation. Were this foundation to be destroyed, what could he do, or where flee for refuge? How it was shaken in his mind I am about to relate.

He had been long intimate in the house of a very respectable family in the neighbourhood. He was there as their own child: for him they had all a very strong affection, and he felt for them in return, both affection and reverence. One evening the conversation in the family turned on the Doctrine of the Atonement; and some observations then made filled his soul with doubts and fears. It was, in short, stated by one present, that, "the Methodists were guilty of idolatry, for they gave that worship to Jesus Christ that belonged to the Father only." He came home full of confusion: "What have I been doing? Have I been adding idolatry to all the rest of my transgressions? Have I had two Gods instead of one ?" He went into the boviere, (shippon,) the first place he came to, and kneeled down among the cattle, and began to ask pardon of God, fearing that he had given that glory to another, which was due to Him alone. He was not satisfied, however, with this; he thought he should go farther, and leave the name of CHRIST Out of all his prayers; this proceeded so far that he did not like to converse about Him. What he had lately heard, represented Him to his mind as an usurper; and at last he could not bear to see His name in any religious book. Darkness now entered into his mind,— his spiritual fervor gradually diminished, till it was at last entirely gone. He prayed, but it was a form: he read, but it was without unction. He felt this lamentable change, and began earnestly to enquire whence it had arisen? Importunate prayer, his former refuge, was sug