he carried on his theological studies at the same time, in which he was well fitted to make progress by his deep penetration, and a memory so strong that he scarcely forgot any thing he had read or heard.

During this period of his life, he gave a proof of the great progress he had made in the study of divinity, by a discourse which he composed on that choice passage of Scripture, 2 Cor. v. 14, "The love of Christ constraineth us. This performance he sent to a certain lady in Edinburgh, who, having perused it, judged it to be the work of some eminent minister in the west of Scotland, and put it into the hands of the then Provost of Edinburgh for his opinion. His lordship was so well satisfied with it, that, supposing it to be taken from the mouth of one whom the city had formerly resolved to call, he could not be satisfied till a call was brought about to him to be one of the ministers of the city. But when the lady returned to Glasgow, she found her mistake, by Mr Binning's asking the discourse from her. This was the first discovery he had given of his great dexterity and ability in explaining Scripture. At the expiration of his third year as a professor of philosophy, the parish of Govan became vacant. Before this time, the Principal of the College of Glasgow was also minister of Govan; for Mr Robert Boyd of Trochrig, a person of very great learning, as his Commentary on the Ephesians and his Hecatombe Christiana testify, returned to Scotland, after he had been minister of Vertal in France, and Professor of Divinity at Saumur, and was settled Principal of the College and minister of Govan; but this being attended with inconvenience, an alteration was made, and the presbytery having in view to confer the situation on Mr Binning, took him upon trials, in order to his being licensed as a preacher After being licensed, he preached at Govan to the great satisfaction of the people. He was some time after invited to be minister of that parish, and the presbytery having heartily approved of the call, they brought him forward for ordination about the twenty-second year of his age. As a part of his trials, they prescribed to him a common head on divine influence and free-will; the occasion of which was, that Dr Strang, the Principal of the College, and a member of the presbytery, had vented some peculiar notions on that profound subject. Mr Binning delivered a very elaborate discourse, to the admiration of all who heard it, and gave in, according to custom, his thesis to be impugned by the members of the presbytery. The sentiments contained in it were directly opposed to those avowed by Dr Strang in his prelections to the students on that controversy. The Doctor being pitched upon to be one of his antagonists, found his credit and reputation at stake, and exerted his metaphysical talent on that occasion; but Mr Binning maintained his ground by the weight and solidity of his defence, to the great satisfaction of all who were present, so that some were pleased to say, that young Mr Binning was the old learned Doctor; nay, the Doctor himself, after the dispute, admiring Mr Binning's abilities and parts, said, "Where has this young man got all his learning and reading?" When he had finished his trials, he had the unanimous approbation of the presbytery, nay, their declaration of his fitness to be one of the ministers of the city, having it in view to bring him back again to their society, whenever, as would probably soon happen, the Professorship of Divinity should become vacant. He was, considering his age, a prodigy of learning; for, before he had arrived at the twenty-sixth year of his life, he had such a large stock of useful knowledge, as to be at once a philologist, a philosopher, and illustrious theologian, and might well have been an ornament in the most famous and flourishing university in Europe. This was the more astonishing, if we consider his weakness of bodily frame, which rendered him unable

to read much at one time, or to undergo the fatigue of assiduous study; but this was well supplied, by a peculiarly retentive memory, and by a solid, penetrating judgment, so that, with a singular dexterity, he could bring forth his knowledge seasonably, and communicate it to the use and advantage of others, drained from the dregs he found about it, or intermixed with it, insomuch that his knowledge seemed rather to be born with him, than to have been acquired by laborious study. From his childhood he knew the Scriptures, and from a boy he had been under much deep and spiritual exercise, until the time of his entrance upon the office of the ministry, when he came to a great calm and lasting tranquillity of mind, being mercifully relieved of all those doubtings which had, for a long time, greatly exercised him; and though he was of a tender and weakly constitution, yet love to Christ, and a concern for the good of precious souls committed to him, constrained him to such diligence in feeding the flock, that he resolved to spend and be spent in the work of the ministry. It was observed of him, that he was not much averse, at any time, from embracing an opportunity and invitation to preach before the most experienced Christians, the learned professors of the university, or the ministers of the city; and when one of his most intimate friends noticed in this a difference from the modesty and self-denial which appeared in the whole of his conduct, he took the freedom to ask him, how he came to be so easily prevailed upon to preach before persons of so great experience and judgment, whose eminent gifts and graces he highly valued and esteemed? Mr Binning made this excellent reply, "That when he had a clear call to mention his beloved Master's name in any place, he had no more to say but here am I, send me.' What am I, that I should resist his heavenly call? and when He whose name is holy and reverend is spoken of, and to, and is there present, the presence of no other person is to be regarded or dreaded, and, under that impression, I forget who is present and who is absent." Though he was studious, and much intent on fulfilling his ministry, he turned his thoughts to marriage, and married a virtuous and excellent person, Barbara Simpson, daughter of Mr James Simpson, a minister in Ireland. Upon the day on which he was to be married, he went, accompanied by his friends, to an adjacent country congregation, to hear sermon. The minister of the parish delayed commencing the service till they should come, hoping to put the work upon one of the ministers he expected to be there; but all of them declining it, he next tried if he could prevail upon the bridegroom, and succeeded, though the nature of the occasion seemed to be somewhat unseasonable for his being employed in that work. It was no diflicult task to him to preach upon a short warning; having a prompt and ready gift, he was never at a loss for words and matter. Having stept aside for a little, to premeditate and to implore his Master's presence and assistance, for he was ever afraid of being alone in that work, he went to the pulpit, and preached upon 1 Peter i. 15, "As be who called you is holy, so be ye holy, in all manner of conversation." On this occasion he was so remarkably helped, that all acknowledged that God was with him of a truth; and the people of the parish, who had come to hear their own minister, a truly pious and excellent man, were so surprised and taken with him, as if God, besides his ordinary resident, as Mr M'Ward expresses it, had sent them an extraordinary ambassador to negociate a peace between God and them, and a skilful suitor of a spouse for Jesus Christ, the blessed bridegroom, that he might present them as a chaste virgin to his divine husband.

Although he studied in his public discourses to condescend to the capacity of the humbler sort of hearers, yet, it must be owned, that his preaching was not so much suited to a country congregation, as it was to the judicious and learned. The subjects of sermons are so

numerous and varied, and the manner of disposing the thoughts so different, that no fixed and invariable method can be prescribed, that shall agree to every man's taste, and to every subject. Mr Binning's method was peculiar to himself. He was no stranger to the rules of art, and knew well how to make his method subservient to the subject he handled; and though he tells not that his discourse has so many parts, yet it wanted not method. His diction and language is easy and fluent; | void of all affectation and bombast; every period has a kind of undesigned natural elegance about it, which arrests the reader's attention, and always pleases; so that considering the time he lived, it might be said he carried off the palm of oratory from his contemporaries in Scotland, and was not at that time inferior to the best pulpit orators in England. The comparison of Binning with Scougal and Leighton, in regard to sweetness and elegance of style, as well as sublimity and richness of sentiment, will not be unfavourable to our author; while in evangelical savour and soundness he excels the first of these eminent writers, and is certainly not behind the latter. That great divine, Mr James Durbam, an excellent judge, gave this verdict of him, that there is no speaking after Mr Binning; and truly he had the tongue of the learned, and knew how to speak a word in season. The subject-matter of his sermons is mostly practical, yet natural and argumentative, fit to inform the judgment, and move the affections. And, when controversies came in the way, he showed great acuteness in discussing and determining them, and no less skill in applying them to practice. His discourses were so solid and substantial, and so heavenly and sublime, that they not only feed, but feast, the reader. Mr M Ward says in his letter, "That, as to the whole of Mr Binning's writings, I know no man's pen, on the heads he hath handled, more adapted to edification, or which, with a pleasant violence, will sooner find a passage into the heart of a judicious experienced reader, and cast fire, ere he is aware, into his affections, and set them into a flame. The subjects he discourses on are handled with such a variety of thought and expression, that the hearer or reader is taken with it, as if he had never met with it before. He brought forth the old, with such sweetness and savour, as it seemed still new; and the new retained its first sweetness, so as never to grow old.

He, and some young ministers in the same Presbytery, who had been fellow-students of divinity when he was professor of philosophy, kept private meetings for Christian fellowship, and their mutual improvement; but finding that he was in danger of being puffed up with the high opinion they had of him, he broke up these meetings, though he still kept up a brotherly correspondence with them, for the vigorous prosecution of their ministerial work. He studied to be clothed with humility, and to hide his attainments under that veil. Although he wanted not matter and words, wherewith to please and profit all his hearers, yet at every thought of his appearing in public to speak of God and Christ to men, his soul was filled with a holy tremor, which he vented by saying, "Ah! Lord, I am a child, and cannot speak: teach me what I shall say of thee, who cannot order my speech by reason of darkness." In his first sermon on the fourth question of our Shorter Catechism, he expresses himself in a most elegant and rapturous manner: "We are now," says he, "about this question, What is God? But who can answer it? or if answered, who can understand it? It should astonish us on the very entry to think, we are about to speak and to hear of his majesty, whom eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of any creature to conceive what he is.' Think ye that blind men could understand a pertinent discourse of light and colours? Would they form any suitable notion of that they had never seen, and which cannot be known

but by seeing? How then can we speak of God, who dwells in inaccessible light?"

He was a great student in the works of creation and providence, and took much pleasure in meditating upon what is written in these volumes. The wonders he discovered in both, led him up to the infinitely wise and powerful Maker and Preserver of all things. Once when he came to visit a gentleman of good learning, and his intimate acquaintance, he took him into his garden, and in their walk he discoursed with him, to his great surprise, of the objective declarations which every thing makes of its Almighty Creator, and talked of the wisdom and goodness of God, particularly in clothing the earth with a green garb rather than any other colour; and having plucked a flower, he so dissected and anatomized the same, as to set forth the glorious perfection of his Maker in a most engaging and instructive manner.

But the main object of his devout contemplations was, God in Christ reconciling the world to himself; for God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, had shined into his heart, to give him the light of the knowledge of God in the face of Jesus Christ; so that he not only understood the mysteries of the kingdom of God himself, but it was given to him to make others know them. His preaching was in the demonstration of the Spirit, and with power. His sermons are the very transcript of what had past betwixt God and his own soul. He spoke and wrote from experimental knowledge, and did both because he believed. He constantly contended for the articles of faith and the truths of religion, and could never think of parting with one truth, or the least grain of truth, being persuaded that Christian concord must have truth for its foundation, and holiness for its attendant, without which it will decline into a defection, and degenerate into a conspiracy against religion. As to the duties of Christianity, he enforced the performance of those with all the arguments of persuasion; so that, through the blessing of God, his pulpit discourses became the power of God to the illumination of the understanding of his hearers, the renovation of their natures, the reformation of their lives, and the salvation of their souls. The difficult part of a reprover he acted in the most prudent and gaining manner. When he took out the mote from his brother's eye, he did it with all tenderness, and with the tear in his own eye. His words wanted neither edge nor point for drawing blood, when the case of the offender made it his indispensable duty; and when he was necessitated to use sharpness with any, they were convinced that he honestly and sincerely intended their spiritual good. His compassion on the ignorant, and on those that were out of the way, made it evident, how much he considered himself as encompassed with infirmities, and so within the hazard of being tempted. He was a person of exem plary moderation and sobriety of spirit, and studied to promote love and peace among his brethren in the ministry, and had healing methods much at heart. He had a temper that is rarely possessed in one of his age; but ripe grapes were found on this vine in the beginning of spring, since he lived so near the Sun of Righteousness, and lay under the plentiful showers of divine grace, and the ripening influences of his Holy Spirit.

(To be concluded in our next.)

SCENES FROM THE OLD AND NEW
TESTAMENTS.

BY THE REV. J. A. WYLIE,
Dollar.

No. II. THE DEATH OF JOHN THE BAPTIST. HEROD would have proceeded to greater extremities against John, had he not been restrained by two con

'siderations. He would have deprived the prophet of life, as well as of liberty, but, in the first place, he feared John, "knowing that he was a just man and an holy;" and, in the second place, he feared the people, "because they accounted John as a prophet." Let us briefly illustrate the influence of these motives on the mind of the king.

With the character of John, Herod enjoyed many opportunities of becoming well acquainted; and the result was, a high veneration for the Baptist; and although the king had been thrown into a transport of rage, by the faithfulness and the boldness with which he was reproved for his sin, he could not divest himself of the deep impression which the superior sanctity and honesty of John had made upon his mind; and he was obliged, in his secret soul, to respect and fear the man whom he persecuted. The falsehood and flattery of their slaves must be evident, at times, even to princes; the character of John, as exhibiting a strong contrast to that of those by whom Herod was surrounded, must have filled him with adiniration. It was a singular sight, and one that is rarely seen; living at a court, John was uncorrupt; dwelling in a palace, he loved his God better than his prince, and served both with equal fidelity; with surprise and awe must Herod have looked on one, who could not be won by his blandishments, nor subdued by his power; who was uncompromising and unchanged, amid the dissolute and complying members of his court.

There is a subordination of rank in the world of mind, as well as in civil society; and there is no necessary, and at times only is there any accidental, connection between the order to which we belong in the former, and the station we fill in the latter. Mind stands as high above mind, as the heir of the empire, in the eye of society, is distinguished above the son of the beggar; now, this difference of moral rank is perceived, as if by intuition, when mind approaches mind; there is the majesty of contour, and the repose of strength, which, like the insignia of civil dignity, indicate to the mental eye the order of their possessor; and as the larger masses in space govern the smaller, so spirits of lower rank do voluntary homage to those of higher. This moral subordination is the appointment of God; it is more ancient than any of the conventional forms of society, and the dignity it confers is recognized by all creatures, being, in fact, the measure of our distance from the divine throne. Now, there are times and circumstances in which the appointment of the Creator operates, and that of creatures is suspended,—when minds fall into the order which properly belongs to them, and when the weak and the worthless sink to their level, despite all the advantages which rank, and power, and wealth can confer. This explains to us, why it was that the simple reproof of John, "It is not lawful for thee to have her," smote with such tremendous force the guilty king; it was the descending space through which it passed which gave to it (if we may use the phrase) its momentum; and as the monarch sunk before the prophet, and each for the moment assumed his proper place, Herod felt awe as well as anger. The second motive by which Herod was restrained from proceeding to greater extremities against John, was "the fear of the multitude." If John was feared by such a man as Herod, to whom, on many accounts, he must have been obnoxious, it is not surprising that he was venerated by the people. If Herod had consulted only his own feelings, he would immediately have put the Baptist to death; and to this step he was vehemently urged by Herodias, who dreaded the influence of the preacher; but the reverence in which he was held by all men, rendered this, in the meantime, unsafe, and Herod found it necessary to withdraw him for a while from public view, that, being out of sight and out of mind in the solitude of a prison, he might

afterwards do with safety what, in the meantime, he dared not do. Thus, although Herod "feared not God," yet he "regarded man;" he did not hesitate to destroy the peace of his mind, and to expose himself to the wrath of an Omnipotent Avenger, and yet he would do nothing which might render his throne insecure, and awaken the resentment of his subjects. Never yet did a sinner exist who had emancipated himself from every restraint; those who refuse to be held in the fetters of man, are yet bound by secret and invisible ties; where human fear can accomplish nothing, the fear of conscience, and of a judginent to come, sometimes exert a salutary influence; and those again who spurn this restraint, who have said with the fool, "there is no God," are yet influenced, as Herod was, by the fear of Few are possessed of so extensive means of doing either good or evil as those who occupy thrones; and yet, from the instance before us, we learn that even they cannot accomplish all the evil which they design; the same power which guides those orbs which roll on high, which sets a limit to the waters of the ocean, when its waves would invade the dwellings of man, governs and restrains those who, otherwise, are possessed of absolute and uncontrolled power. There is One, whose power none can resist, whose purpose none can defeat; "He is terrible to the kings of the earth."

man.

We will now pursue the history of the prophet. We have already seen John thrown into prison for no fault of his, and his ministry put a stop to, merely on account of the faithfulness with which he discharged it. But the darkest part of the picture is yet to be exhibited. The cruelties already inflicted on the Baptist could not satisfy the savage and relentless woman whose hatred he had incurred. Herodias could not enjoy security in her sin while the prophet lived, and her fell revenge could be sated only with his blood. For the reasons of policy we have already explained, Herod could not comply with her urgent request, that John should immediately be put to death; but revenge is patient as well as cruel; as the bird of prey descries its victim from afar, so revenge sees her hour approaching, and waits with patience till it has come. Herodias had resolved that John should die, that the blood of the prophet should wash out the affront he had put upon her, and enjoying, in the meantime, a sort of satisfaction from the purpose she had formed, she sat down to watch the arrival of the fitting hour for executing it.

Such an opportunity occurred during the festivities which were held on the birth-day of Herod. "But when Herod's birth-day was kept, the daughter of Herodias danced before them, and pleased Herod." On this occasion, it was usual with Herod to give a supper to his lords and captains, and all the officers of state in Galilee. To grace the solemnity, and please the king, the daughter of Herodias, most probably Salome, her daughter by her former husband, Herod's brother, was introduced, and danced before them. Living at a court where a high price was set on such accomplishments, and having, no doubt, the advantage of excellent masters, she was able to perform her part well; her dancing attracted the notice, and called forth the applause of the company, and especially of Herod," she pleased Herod." With how small a matter will even great men sometimes condescend to be gratified! Here we behold a king, laying aside his state, forgetting the cares of government, and deigning to find delight in the dancing of a girl, displaying in this matter, an interest as intense as if he had been raised to empire only that he might encourage arts so noble, and possessed of treasures only that he might reward their patrons, with a liberality, which did not know within what limits to confine itself! David was wont to seek relief from the duties of his throne, in the devotions of his closet, "what time my heart is overwhelmed and in perplexity, I will go to the Rock that is higher than I." In secret his

chafed spirit drank at this heavenly fountain and was refreshed. His closet was as another landing placed in some happy clime, whither the curse had not come, where the Sun of Righteousness always shone, and from which he returned laden with spices more fragrant than ever grew on earth. How beautiful is rank when thus illustrated by piety! How august is power when thus controlled by wisdom from above! and how well fitted are those, for being intrusted with the rights of man, whose own hearts are under the influence of the love of God! But alas! it has been the too frequent practice of monarchs, in all ages, to devote those hours which they were able to redeem from the cares of ambition or government, not to the pages of the Word of God, but, like Herod, to the "wine-cup and the dance."

Some amusements are innocent and lawful in whatever light they are viewed; others, although innocent in themselves, become unlawful, from the circumstances which attend them, and the sins to which they may lead, and to which there is a peculiar tendency in their nature to lead. Some pieces of amusement are to be condemned, as being inconsistent with the gravity and sincerity of the Christian's deportment; and, if it be said that they accomplish some good, that good might be accomplished by other means less liable to objection. With respect to that amusement which led to the martyrdom of John, we are aware that it has now been reduced into a science, and is accounted a necessary part of every polite education,-with what improvement to our minds or our morals, we could never distinctly comprehend. Had the daughter of Herodias not danced, John would not, at this time at least, have been put to death. "Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth!" How dangerous is it to tamper with the lusts of the flesh, or to stray, even for the shortest time, in the path of forbidden enjoyment! "Look not upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright: At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder."

When we enter on the path of iniquity, it is vain to say that we will go to a certain length, and there stop, that this shall be the limit of our course, and, beyond it, no power, however great, no temptation, however strong, shall be able to carry us. We calculate as if our strength were the strength of stones, and our flesh of brass; as if the line which we have drawn by the hand of calm reason, would be respected in the fiery sweep of passion. The only step of such a course which is fully in our own power, is the first. The only question which is left for our decision, in reference to this matter, is, whether we shall enter at all on this path; not when or where our course shall terminate. It is ours to kindle, not to quench the conflagration-to let loose the flood, not to restrain its fury. Who would have thought when the daughter of Herodias began to dance, that this would lead to the murder of John? and yet, we see the matter passing from one stage to another, by a train of very natural sequences, till at last it arrives at this melancholy issue. This is the course of all iniquity, and the fate of all those who surrender themselves to the influence of temptation; they proceed from evil to worse, by stages which are short, by degrees which can scarcely be measured, but their progress still going on, they at last reach a point, where it would have been thought impossible, both by themselves and others, they should ever be found. Many a course has had as melancholy a result as that of the dancing of Salome, whose beginnings, perhaps, were more justifiable than that of hers. We may not be able to mention the exact grounds on which any action, or piece of amusement, is to be condemned; but, if we feel in our own hearts that it is unlawful, this should teach us that it is dangerous, and ought to be shunned. The injunction of the apostle is, "abstain from all appearance of evil."

Events of a very different character were passing that night in the palace and the prison of Herod. The king and his lords, dissolved in the wine-cup, were feasting their ears with the lewd song, and their eyes with the lascivious dance. Herodias, nursing her im placable revenge, and thirsting for its gratification, was watching her opportunity to compass the death of the prophet; and her daughter, flushed with youth and pride, and fortified by vanity and impudence, was exerting herself to gratify Herod and his courtiers; such was the scene which the halls of the palace exhibited. Let us leave the revelry of the court, and visit, for a short while, the silence of the prison. We descend into its darkness, and discover there one greater than kings greater than prophets-the most honourable of those who are born of women. How fragrant is this prison How glorious the form that stands amid the shadows of the dungeon! And what awe, such as we never felt before kingly majesty, do we feel in the presence of the martyr! His dwelling is the iron cell, "his feet are hurt in fetters," yet kings have trembled before him ; on that head the storms of tyranny have burst, yet it has not bowed to the wrath of man; sacred, venerable, august, yet clothed with a humility which tells us that he is the messenger, not the Master.

It was no honour to Herod that he could call a palace his dwelling, or a throne his seat, while he was degraded by the vices of his life, and the crimes of his government; we may be high in rank, and yet not great; we may have a patent of nobility, and yet not be noble; and as it was no honour to Herod that he possessed a throne, so it was no disgrace to John, or to the cause for which he suffered, that he lay in a dungeon. Truth can accommodate herself to times and circumstances, and when she is banished from the courts of princes, she can dwell in a prison among felons. But in the prison, no doubt, the one enjoyed that pure satisfaction, that ravishing delight, which arises from a consciousness that duty has been done, and that God has been honoured, to which the other was a stranger amidst the applause and splendours of his court, and to possess which, he no doubt, would willingly have given his crown. What a blessing is it, that peace of mind, that true happiness, may be found in the discharge of duty, and can be obtained in no other manner! Wealth and power may be obtained sometimes by falsehood, by crime, by injustice; but peace of mind-never. Amidst the splendours of the empire the person is miserable still; on the very pinnacle of human glory, he is more wretched than the most abject of those who are dazzled when they lift their eyes up to the height on which he stands. High and glorious as he is, he is but a gilded monument of woe. In the instance before us, how much happier, how much more honourable was the oc cupant of the prison, than the occupant of the palace! mirth laughed in the one, silence reigned in the other: "For as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fool." "Even in laughter the heart is sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is heaviness."

66

Herod, as we have already said, was well pleased with the dancing of the daughter of Herodias, and we have no wish to detract from her merits in this respect, but we cannot so readily approve of the extravagant and foolish liberality with which Herod proposed to reward her. Whereupon he promised, with an oath, to give her whatsoever she would ask." How trifling the service! How large the reward! Salome has danced; the courtiers have applauded; Herod has been gratified; and the treasures of an empire are scarcely adequate to testify the gratitude of the monarch. Name your reward, said the king, in language which savoured not a little of ostentation in the presence of his lords, and in which, it is not unreasonable to suppose, wine had an influence; name your reward, and if my throne can command it, or if my kingdom can furnish it, it

shall not be wanting. To make the matter worse, the seal of an oath was set upon the promise of the king; as if Herod intended to teach his courtiers that his simple affirmation was not to be trusted, unless the force of his oath was superadded. "Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own?" said the Lord of the vineyard. He who is the universal proprietor, and to whom the earth and all its fulness belongs, may claim this right; but monarchs are only stewards over the goods of another, which they are bound not to abuse; and they sin against society as well as against God, if they squander the riches they possess on the most infamous, or the most frivolous of mankind. Some have thought that the promise and oath of the king arose in the depths of policy; were parts of a scheme previously concerted between him and Herodias, to cut off the Baptist, and that the grief he exhibited, when the request of Salome was presented to him, was feigned, not real. The extravagant liberality of Herod, for so trifling a service; his binding himself by an oath, as if to furnish an excuse before-hand; the ready consent he gave to the death of a man he had formerly venerated, would render this supposition probable, were not the known character of Herod, that of irresolution; | one likely to be driven to wickedness by the influence of others, but unlikely to perpetrate it, on any steady plan he himself had formed.

There was silence in the royal apartment when the daughter of Herodias entered. Not long had she been bsent in consultation with her mother, at once the parent and the counsellor in wickedness, and now she stood before the king to present her request. All the lords of Galilee bent forward in eager expectation to catch the sound of her words, and learn what, amongst the many objects of desire which a kingdom presented, had fixed the choice of one so young. She spoke, and the silence became deeper, "Give me here John Baptist's head in a charger." Herod heard her words, and sorrow, like a cloud, settled upon his brow. "The head of John!" And the recollection of the many virtues of the preacher returned to his mind. "John was a just man and a holy.” Pity, for a brief space, shone in the eyes of the tyrant, but anon it faded, as the reproof of John rose to his memory; he again heard the voice of the Baptist saying, sternly, "it is not lawful for thee to have her;" and anger shot forth its fiery ray, and quenched the light of every softer emotion; he looked round upon his courtiers, and their looks appeared to upbraid him for his irresolution; they said or seemed to say, "will pity for a despised prisoner, lead you to violate your oath, and refuse the daughter of your queen?" Pride mounted highest in the mind of the monarch, and in that moment nothing was remembered but the reproof of John, and his own oath to Salome. Yes, I have sworn it, John must die."

Herod had indeed sworn, that whatever the daughter of Herodias should ask, he would give to her: but his oath was necessarily to be understood of all things lawful; for no man has power to bind himself to do what the law of God has commanded him not to do. It does not admit of doubt, that an unlawful oath is not to be kept: we sin in making it, but we commit a greater sin if we keep it. The law of God is the supreme authority;, and whatever is opposed to its enactments, is by that superior authority discharged. If the daughter of Herodias had acted literally on the grant of the king, and proposed that he should divide his kingdom, and make her the ruler over the half of it, would not Herod have found means to evade his oath? And yet, rather than be an accomplice in the murder of this good man, he ought to have been willing to have given her his throne, his crown, and all that he possessed. Had Salome asked his own head instead of that of John, would not Herod have insisted that his promise was not to be kept? And yet, had he been a man of inte

grity, he would sooner have given her his own head, than consented that the head of John should be cut off. Herod had said, "even unto the half of my kingdom;" and he redeems that pledge with a gift, which the whole of his kingdom could not have purchased. Than have redeemed that pledge as Herod redeemed it, better far had he taken the loveliest jewel from his crown and given it to the daughter of Herodias; better far had he planted his own diadem on the head of Salome, and gone from his royal throne to sit in dust among the captives of his prison-house. Ancient resentment against the prophet, the fear of incurring the scorn of his courtiers and the upbraidings of Herodias, the partner of his crimes, prevailed against the pleadings of mercy and justice. There was no statement of the crime for which John was to suffer; there were no forms of trial; there were no tedious delays between the sentence and the execution of it; in fine, there were none of the barriers which modern times have erected between the wrath of despots and the lives of their subjects; and no sooner was the sentence given, than a messenger was sent to execute it.

While the death of John was thus hastily resolved upon in the palace of Herod, what may we imagine were the musings of the prophet in his prison? Is it unlawful to suppose that the Master he served had sent his angel to assure him, that in a few moments his earthly sorrows would be ended, and his heavenly glory begun? That in a little he would hear the voice of the oppressor no more, but be relieved at once from the chain of Herod, and the garments of mortality? Shut out from public labour, he passed his hours in prison, no doubt, in looking forward to the triumphs and the sufferings which awaited the Church of God. In the reports which his disciples brought him, from time to time, of the progress of Jesus, he could trace the dawn of the Gospel day; and his soul was filled with unutterable joy, when he thought that the hour was near when the light that was now breaking duskily on the mountains of Judea, would shine, in all the glory of day, on the broad fields of the Gentile world. At other times, the darkness of coming evil-the gathering of those storms, from which he knew he would be hid in the quiet grave-would fall upon his eye, and weigh down the spirit of the captive more heavily than could the chain of Herod. But anon the clouds would roll away, and the days of peace and glory, revealed in prophecy, would shine in the bursting and glowing future, and the martyr would continue to gaze till his dungeon glowed with light, and resounded with his song. Such were the musings of the prophet, when his prison-door opened, and the messenger of death stood before him.

This was sudden, but John was prepared: his work was done, and by this death was he now to glorify God. We behold him rise up, and with a firm voice command the officer of the king to obey the orders of his master. A flickering light quivers through the dungeon-the gleam of the executioner's sword; and the revenge of Herodias is gratified, and the prophet dismissed to his glory. Oh! the happy exchange. John has left the darkness of his prison, and soared, like the eagle, to the world of eternal day: and he is now, without the fear of bolts or fetters, and far beyond the wrath of Herod, walking at liberty in the streets of the New Jerusalem. He has been faithful unto death, and has received the crown of life.