is free, but also neglects, and contempt, and deprivations of equal rights, which are more galling to the spirit than all which appears to come more directly from the hand of his Maker. Yet even these he can bear with comparative ease while looking to his suffering, his insulted, Saviour. He is not poorer than his Lord was; he cannot be more wronged than the Son of Royal David, crowned in derision and cruelty with a crown of thorns. If there be on earth one consideration which can make all sufferings, all wrongs, endurable on earth, it is, that Christ once suffered for us the just for the unjust, to bring us to God. If there be a second, it is, that the poor in this world are rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which God hath given to them that love him. AFFLICTION AND ITS GRACIOUS RESULTS. BY THE REV. ROBERT AIKENHEAD. "Tribulation worketh patience."--Rom. v. 3. It is the high privilege of the believer to "glory in tribulation." It is easy, natural, and in accordance with the laws of our being, to glory in that which is obviously promotive of our enjoyment, and which satisfies the desires of our hearts. Such things possess an adaptation, considered in themselves, to awaken pleasing sensations, nor does it require any influence of a superior nature to impart to them the quality of promoting our happiness. The universal characteristic of man is to glory in that which he regards as good, and which makes a direct appeal to his inward feelings.. God's people, however, are represented as "glorying in tribulation," from which we instinctively recoil, and to avert which, we are naturally disposed to employ every precaution. On what principles is it that they are enabled to do so? and what are the benefits arising from that which, considered in itself, is an evil? 1st. They glory in tribulation arising from their attachment to Christ, because they regard it as the highest honour which can be conferred upon them in this world. The cause of their tribulation they regard as the most God-like that can be imagined. It is for the promotion of that in which the glory of God, and the temporal and eternal well-being of men, are involved. In suffering for Christ, they become identified with him in the great principles for which he became incarnate, suffered, and died. They feel that they are only carrying out that which he contemplated when he left his throne in glory, to accomplish the work of human redemption. His pain, sorrow, and reproach, endears to them the work in which they are engaged. They look to the depths of abasement to which their illustrious Redeemer stooped. This not only reconciles them to suffering for his sake, but enables them "to glory in it." They thus have "fellowship with him." They feel that they are engaged in a work, in which not only the honour of their Lord and Saviour is concerned, but one which is connected with the eternal happiness of millions of redeemed souls, and the joy of the angelic hosts. In such a cause they feel thankful to lend a helping hand. They willingly occupy the humblest position, associated though it may be with trials and difficulties. They rejoice that it is given to them "on behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but to suffer for his name's sake." 2ndly. The believer glories in those tribulations of a providential character, which affect his person, circumstances, or connections in life. These, indeed, are "not joyous but grievous," but yet he is enabled to rejoice in them. He has the fullest reason to believe that they are intended for a gracious purpose, are apportioned by a wise and loving hand, and will, ultimately, redound to God's glory, and his own eternal good. He may not be able to perceive the immediate design of them, but he can rest satisfied that they are intended to correct some evil in him, or save him from some danger to which he is exposed. They make Christ and his truth more precious to his soul, furnish fresh discoveries of the riches of divine grace, and exhibit the power of God in supporting under the darkest dispensations. "All things," he is assured, "work together for good, to those who love God." They are eminently fitted to increase his own usefulness. He is thereby enabled to speak a word in season to him that is weary, and to point out to others "the consolations wherewith he himself is comforted of God." Such afflictions enhance the joys of immortality, and prepare the believer for entering upon them. For "these light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." One immediate benefit resulting from sanctified affliction is, that it "worketh patience." Patience supposes our being in that state in which our desires and expectations are not yet realized, and in which we are disposed to give way to a spirit of peevishness, restlessness, or discontent; in which we long for an explanation of something perplexing, the removal of something painful, or the enjoyment of some anticipated good. Now, "tribulation worketh patience," by reminding us how utterly disproportionate the greatest earthly sufferings are to what we deserve. We perceive that the cup of sorrow is mingled with ingredients of love and goodness, and that our condition is vastly different from what it would have been had we been dealt with on the stern principles of justice. The mind, too, in such circumstances, acquires an aptitude for the discovery of truth, and a relish for the consolations of the gospel. Never are we more disposed to think of the patience of Christ under his accumulated load of affliction, or to admire the conduct of the ancient martyrs who had trials of "cruel mockings, scourgings, bonds, and imprisonments," than when we are ourselves brought into circumstances of trial. Then it is that we feel a desire to breathe their spirit, and to emulate their virtues. We justify the divine procedure towards us. We confess that our heavenly Father has an exclusive right to rule, and resign ourselves with meekness into his hands, convinced that in his hands "whatever is, is right." Our language then is, "It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good." At such favoured seasons we are disposed to set the highest value on afflictions; to prize them as inestimable blessings, not to be parted with for the richest treasures of earth. Like the apostle, we are brought to that state in which we are not only satisfied that the "thorn in the flesh" should not be removed, but we actually "glory in it." We "take pleasure" in it, as that which on no account can be parted with. We feel that our present safety and usefulness, and our future advantage, consist in an entire surrender of ourselves to the divine government, saying, "Even so, Father, for so it seemeth good in thy sight." Nor must it be forgotten that the mind possesses an elastic power. It bends to circumstances. To endure affliction with magnanimity and submission, becomes, by degrees, a law of its being. If called to walk in the shade, where everything assumes a sombre aspect, and we are denied the enlivening sounds and sights obtained on the sunny mount, even here we discover objects fitted to awaken our admiration, gratitude, and love. There is a blessed congeniality between our new position and the sentiments and feelings of our hearts. Hence, to good Faithful, as described by Bunyan, the Valley of Humility was as lightsome and pleasant as any other part of his journey; and many a child of God has been able to sing, in the words of the Poet, "Though in a bare and rugged way, Beckington, Somerset. THE ANSWERED PRAYER. "My will not thine be done." BY MRS. A. M. EDMOND. "Oh, spare my child !" a mother cried, She cannot yield her treasure now— Oh, wherefore, mother, weepest thou? "Nay, for he must not, cannot die; Look down in mercy from on high, Try thou my love, tempt thou my faith, But, oh, I cannot yield to Death My living idol up. "Bid me with all beside to part, Down from the mansions of the blest, To her inferior home, Bright angels from the Father's breast, On wings of healing come. Unseen by mortal eyes they breathe And, lo! what living beauties wreathe The marble features there. The blue eyes ope, the young breast heaves, Death's icy chill the forehead leaves, "He lives! he lives!" the mother cries; The child, that else a cherub bright Is back returned to mortal sight, Years roll: the boy, to manhood grown, And ends in shame and guilt alone, The remnant of his days. The mourning mother heavenward passed From earth when life was done, But in her home of bliss at last, Found not her only son. A Portfolio of Popes. No. 7.-JULIUS 11. BY THE REV. J. H. MILLARD, B.A. The emperor Charles V. used to declare that he was indebted to the painter Titian for the immortality of his fame. With much more truth might pope Julius II. have ascribed his celebrity to the efforts of painters and sculptors, rather than to any deeds of his own, that posterity can remember with either approval or pleasure. In the National Gallery there is a portrait of this pontiff, drawn by the hand of Raphael, in which the character of the fierce, petulant, and vindictive old man is very forcibly depicted, notwithstanding an evident attempt at flattery, and a softness of execution, which, although it could not fail to adorn a work of the great master, is hardly in unison with the roughness of his subject. Instead of being clothed in armour, his hand grasping a sword, and his attitude one of defiance, Raphael has represented Julius in the effeminate attire of the pontiffs,-his jeweled fingers lightly holding a handkerchief, and his head bent forward as if in meditation, whilst he rests his frame in a massive but luxurious chair, such as in those days was only found in the palaces of princes. But, through all this calm repose, the true character of Julius is quite discernible. How rugged and stern are all the features of his countenance ! Mark that beetling brow-a capacious one be it confessed,with what thunders does it not seem charged! and though the painter has striven to smooth the furrows, is it not plain that it ought to be indelibly wrinkled all over with everlasting frowns? Then his eyes seem to flash lightning even from the canvass; and his firmly compressed lips bespeak not only firmness of purpose, they discover a severity that could easily change into cruelty, but hardly relax further than to allow a laugh of derision and contempt. And such, in all historical truthfulness, was the nature of pope Julius II. He had already distinguished himself as a warrior, although bearing, as a cardinal, the name of a saint, when, in 1503, he was advanced to the throne of the Roman church. His warlike propensities rather furthered than hindered his exaltation. His first efforts, on becoming pope, were directed to the subjugation of some independent cities in the district of Romagna. They were just then in the possession of the notorious Cæsar Borgia, and Julius boldly seized on that miscreant, that he might at once rid Italy of a pest, and himself of a dangerous rival, whilst he used him as an instrument of accomplishing his design of capturing the Romagnese towns. He declared to the governors of those towns appointed by Cæsar, that he would only release their leader when the keys confided to their care should have been surrendered to him. The cities were given up, and Cæsar Borgia was expelled from Italy. The one object of Julius was to enlarge and consolidate the temporal power of the popes. His reign was accordingly passed in continual warfare. Now with the Venetians, then with the French, and anon with some petty neighbouring baron, he was perpetually embroiled in fierce disputes, that generally terminated with an appeal to the sword. And, in all the campaigns which such appeals involved, Julius himself turned soldier. He was the general of his own armies, directed their tactics, and superintended their operations in the field, even to the planting of the cannon against the enemy's ranks. He is described, on one occasion, at the siege of Mirandula, as clothed in complete armour, and boldly exposing his person to every conceivable peril. Amidst frost and storms, in the very depth of a severe winter, he marched at the head of his troops, braved the hottest fire of the enemy, and, when a breach in the walls was effected, was the first to mount the scaling ladders, and, sword in hand, to enter the captured city. In domestic life (if such a character can be conceived of as living a domestic life), the same features of disposition appeared; the same fierce passions and ungovernable will; the same unscrupulous selfishness, and stern control over the independence of other men. It is singular, but, nevertheless, true, that Julius II. was as much a patron of artists as any pope before or after him. Perhaps this also, however, may be resolved into the ambition of being unsurpassed in anything. Bramante was his architect; and, at his bidding, pulled down the old cathedral of St. Peter, in spite of popular opposition, and commenced the erection of the present majestic structure. Angelo was his sculptor, and Raphael his chief painter. To Angelo he was particularly partial, and several anecdotes are recorded of the rough contests that sometimes occurred between these somewhat similarly constituted men. "How should I represent your holiness?" said Angelo one day when receiving orders for a statue; "shall I place a book in your hands ?" "Oh, no books," replied the fierce pontiff; "I know nothing of books; give me asword!" At another time Angelo took offence at the harsh deportment of the pope, and resolved to leave his service and to return to Florence, his native city. Messenger after messenger was sent to recal him, but, for a long time, in vain. Induced, at length, to return, he entered the presence of Julius with considerable fear. He had reason, for he knew the violence of the pope's temper. "What, then," said Julius, with an angry look, "instead of coming to seek us, thou wast determined that we should come to seek thee ?" A bishop in attendance ventured to apologise for the artist. "Who told thee to interfere?" exclaimed the wrathful pope, at the same time bestowing a hearty blow with his staff on the shoulders of the prelate. Then bidding Angelo to kneel, he gave him his benediction, and reinstated him in favour. Here, then, we have another phase of pontifical character, and one not less removed from that of Christ and his apostles, than was Alexander the Sixth. But let us not suppose that these men are only the product of Rome. Rather are they the product of State-churches; the result of a union between the secular and the spiritual in office. Have we not prelates as pugnacious and as unscrupulous as Julius II? They do not, indeed, wield a Damascus blade, but the crosiers of "Exeter" and of "London" will do excellent service upon occasion. Tales and Sketches. EVERY-DAY MYSTERIES. A PAGE FOR YOUNG THINKERS. "I believe nothing that I do not understand," is the favourite saying of Mr. Pettipo Dapperling, a gentleman who very much prides himself upon his intellectual perspicuity. Yet ask Mr. Pettipo if he understands how it is that he wags his little finger, and he can give no reasonable account of it. He will tell you-for he has read books and "studied " anatomythat the little finger consists of so many jointed bones; that there are tendons attached to them before and behind, which belong to certain muscles; and that when these muscles are made to contract, the finger wags. And this is nearly all that Mr. Pettipo knows about it. How it is that the volition acts on the muscles, what volition is, what the will is, Mr. Pettipo knows not. He knows quite as little about the sensation which resides in the skin of that little finger: how it is that he feels and appreciates forms and surfaces; why it detects heat and cold; in what way its papillæ erect themselves, and its pores open and close; about all this he is entirely in the dark. And yet Mr. Pettipo is under the necessity of believing that his little finger wags, and that it is endowed with the gift of sensation, though he in fact knows nothing whatever of the why or the wherefore. We must believe a thousand things that we cannot understand. Matter and its combinations are a grand mystery-how much more so life and its manifestations. Look at those far-off worlds, majestically wheeling in their appointed orbits, millions of miles away; or, look on this earth on which we live, performing its diurnal motion upon its own axis, and its annual circle round the sun! What do we understand of the causes of such motions? What can we ever know about them beyond the fact that such things are so? To discover and apprehend facts is much, and it is nearly our limit. To ultimate causes we can never ascend. But to have an eye open to receive facts and apprehend their relative value, that is a great deal, that is our duty; and not to reject, suspect, or refuse to accept them, because they happen to clash with our preconceived notions, or, like Mr. Pettipo Dapperling, because we "cannot understand" them. |
