The Watchman

UNION OF CHRISTIANS.—We hear much said of late on union among all denominations of Christians; and many seem to be sanguine that such a union will be effected—and that, if effected, it will consummate the prosperity of the church. We have nothing to object to union surely. In itself, and on all consistent grounds it is very desirable. But we query whether those who talk most of union know precisely their own spirit, or are prepared for the sacrifices necessary to a union. In other words, so far as we have observed, those who talk most about union, are the last to recede an iota from their positions, and the most strenuous to maintain their objections against the opinions of others. Their visions of union appear to amount to nothing but a desire, and perhaps an expectation that all their fellow-men will unite with them, and adopt their modes of thinking and action. They are loud in their censures of division and separation; but the meaning is, they censure others for not thinking as they do. Such pleas for union as these are hollow. They are the offspring of pride and self-conceit, rather than of a spirit of brotherly love. No man can consistently talk of union until he is prepared to make some concession from his own peculiarities, and to meet his brother at least half-way.

The frequent speculations on this subject, have reminded us of a dialogue which took place between two young ladies several years since, in a parish in this State, and which we give as follows, from notes taken at the time.

A Dialogue between Sally and Abby, Presbyterian and Methodist professors of religion.

The conversation began by Abby's observing that she thought there was great bigotry among the young religious people who were presbyterians, for that they would not associate with religious young people who belonged to other denominations—that they ought to be willing to associate with God's children of whatever denomination they were.

S. I have never witnessed such a disposition in any. I can name three or four persons who are baptists. (which she did.) With these they are on the most perfect terms of intimacy. I appeal to you, A, if it is not so.

A. If that be so, it is not so with the methodists, for they have no fellowship with them.

S. It may probably be owing to their not agreeing in sentiments.

A. That is no reason at all—for those who are God's children ought to have fellowship with each other.

S. I observe, A, that you do not come to hear Mr. our minister preach, tho' you frequently have no preaching.

A. I do not wish to hear him preach.

S. Why not? do you not think him to be a Christian?

A. I hope he is. I know nothing in his conduct unchristian—but I will not hear him—I hate his doctrine—it provokes me and makes me angry, and I cannot bear to hear old John Calvin's stuff.

S. What does he preach that so offends you?

A. Why, the last time that I heard him preach, he said that sin was a trouble to Christians. Now this is false, for sin is never a trouble to Christians; how can it be a trouble, for they are safe unless they fall from grace. Sin is a trouble to unconverted sinners, but not to those who are converted. Sin has been no trouble to me since I have been converted, tho' it was a great burden to me before I was converted.

S. I think you must be in an error, for I believe that sin is the greatest burden that a Christian can feel, and that an unconverted sinner never feels it to be a burden.

When you was under conviction, S, was not sin a burden to you?

S. I was afraid that by reason of sin I should experience God's wrath forever. But so far from feeling sin to be a burden, I clung to it, and rolled it as a sweet morsel under my tongue; but since I have hoped in the mercy of God, sin has been my burden and my grief. And how can it be otherwise, that if a person loves God that it should not be a burden to him to offend God whom he loves? It is the best evidence, A, that I have that I am a christian, that I am grieved for sin. And how can an unconverted sinner, whose whole soul is in love with sin, feel it to be a burden.

A. All this is mystery to me. and I have heard some of your profession pretend that they have had love to God and Christ because of the excellency of his character, and that they felt thus before they had the least thought that God had converted them. As for me, I know God has converted me, and that is the reason why I love him. Did you ever feel any such love to God?

S. If I ever loved God, it was a number of days before I had any idea that I was a christian.

A. For what did you love God.

S. I had such a view of the excellency of his character that it was impossible not to adore and love.

A. All this is nonsense to me. I don't see why any person should love God if he supposed he would damn him.
S. Do you not believe you are bound to love God whether he converts you or not?

A. No; in that case I should feel no obligation to love him. The devils in hell are under no obligation to love God.

S. I do not mean to turn preacher to you, A, but with my views of religion, if my feelings were such as yours, I should not have a gleam of hope but that I was in the "gall of bitterness and bonds of iniquity."

A. We had better drop this subject, for I must appear a strange creature to you—I am sure you appear so to me.

S. You have now discovered why Presbyterians can have no fellowship with Methodists, and why they could hold fellowship with the Baptist young people before mentioned, for they agree on the subject on which we have been conversing.