his piety are emphatically manifested. They were composed for a plain country congregation, and of course did not require that acute and subtle reasoning, and those ingenious and learned speculations of which he was known to be capable. Still, amidst the plainness of their manner, and almost the bluntness of their aim, there are sufficient indications of the superior elevation and accomplishments of the author's mind. Indeed, Mr. Wolfe's editor thinks it their principal merit, (as specimens we suppose, of the author's style,) that though originally composed for plain hearers, "they were cast in such a shape as to be easily adapted, by slight alterations, to the most cultivated minds." "It is this quality," he also says, "which seems to have chiefly distinguished our author as a preacher."

These sermons contain many admirable representations, and so far as we have noticed, seem to us to be essentially sound in doctrine. Certainly the spirit which pervades them is eminently serious, faithful and kind. In our opinion, however, one of the most striking peculiarities of the sermons is the liveliness, the unstudied ease and gracefulness of their style. Mr. W. rather paints than describes his thoughts. He seems to say every thing he wishes to say, and in the right manner. He delivers the truths

of the bible, not in that "technical cant," by some deemed essential in solemn discourses on religion, but in the natural and pure language of the English classics. In this respect, his mode of speech seems, for the most part, to accord with Foster's views on this subject, as set forth in one of the celebrated essays of that author. Nothing, moreover, can be more striking than many of Mr. Wolfe's illustrations and appeals; nor is there wanting in the sermons, an occasional exhibition of something like that pungency, which distinguishes the best American discourses. Unlike the latter, however, they have no formal division of topics, and fewer specimens of that convicting bible argumentation, with which sermons should, if possible, always abound. In the character of his pulpit addresses, Mr. W. seems to have conscientiously followed the hints which he had roughly drawn up for his own direction. These we will here produce, as they cannot but be interesting to the serious reader.

Take a case in which God acts or speaks affectionately,- almost always one on the spiritual nature of sin,-on self-deceit-self-knowledge.

Let it keep me humble to think how I myself have sinned in the face of light, and against the motives I have to withhold me; against the knowledge of God's wrath; against it and his redeeming love; against my own preaching; against the especial need of a minister, upon whose spiritual state depends, in a great degree, the state of his flock.

Preach a sermon in which every false sentiment is supposed uttered on the death-bed; a sermon in which we suppose the sensations of a sinner looking back upon those whom he may have misled, or neglected to instruct,—a father

upon his children, &c.—a pastor upon his flock; when each shall say, "I pray thee, send some one unto my father's house."--Give also the retrospect from Heaven upon those whom, through the grace of God, we may have assisted.

Bring in familiar topics.-Begin naturally and easily, but so as to excite curiiosity-with an incident or anecdote. Begin in an original and striking, but sedate manner. Before writing, read poetry and oratory. "Look constantly to the bible. Every thing you read, read with a view to this."

Give full weight to objections-with all fondness of human frailty. Seize late, almost present occurrences. Imagine that you are arguing with the most profligate, ambitious and talented opponent.

Let my object be to improve myself first.-Enter into the feelings of your congregation,-into their failings. Throw them upon arguing against themselves: advise them affectionately. pp. 144, 145.

A few extracts from the sermons will serve, perhaps, to confirm the correctness of these prefatory criticisms.

The following beautiful and affecting strain seems to have come fresh from a mind that pursued independently its own thoughts. It is from the third sermon, on the text-" And God said, let us make man in our image, after our likeness."

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There is in the hearts of men a testimony that they shall live for ever; a voice that echoes through futurity; a sense that they shall see strange things in another world; thoughts that wander through eternity, and find no resting place. This is a fragment of God's image, a shattered remnant of his immortality, and it is there to testify against us; for if it had been perfect, nothing would be more delightful than to think that we should live forever; to look forward into brighter scenes, and rejoice in the glory that should be revealed. All the gold of Arabia would not be worth one hour's excursion of the mind of man into the regions of futurity. For ever and for ever would his mind be reaching forward, and dwelling with fondness upon the thought, that never, from age to age, when time should be no more, should he cease from being. The pleasures of the spirits that walk to and fro in the light of God's countenance, and circle his throne rejoicing, would crowd his fancy and delight his hopes. Visions of celestial happiness would visit him in dreams of the night, and, compared with the dim and distant perspective of eternity, all earthly things would seem weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable." And what is the fact? Let every man judge himself how his natural heart shrinks from the contemplation of a future state of being; how he shudders to look into eternity, as into some dreary and bottomless pit. What a cold and dismal thing does immortality appear; and what a refreshment it is to his spirits to withdraw his thoughts from the consideration, and return to his be loved earth! And then, only observe with what eagerness and desperation he gives up soul and body to the pursuit of things which he knows full well will soon be to him as if they had never been. And yet, this man, if you were to ask him the question, would tell you, that he expected to live forever; and that when his body was mouldering in the dust from which it was taken, his soul would plunge into an ocean of spirits without bottom and without shore. This he would tell you gravely, as a matter of course. And then only observe him for one week or for one day, or for this day, which has been sanctified to immortal purposes, and you will find his cares, his hopes, his fears, his wishes, his af fections, busied and bustling about this little span of earth, and this little measure of time which he occupies, and death finds this immortal being making playthings of sand, and carries him away from them all, into a land where they shall all be forgotten. pp. 168-170.

A

passage, which must speak with no inconsiderable terror to the sinner's conscience, is here given from the thirteenth ser

mon.

These occasional visitations of God's wrath,-these sentences that sinners are often obliged to execute upon themselves-these judgments that sometimes fall and burst among us, come often enough to tell us, that there is punishment; but so seldom, as to prove that it is yet to come. They seem to be rather given as eridences, than as fulfilments of the wrath of God; rather as a sign, than a part; just as earthquakes and volcanic eruptions only serve to show us what fires are burning in the bowels of the earth. The flames of hell seem to break out sometimes before their time among men, in earthly judgments,—to warn them of judg

ments to come.

This is the sinner's chance,—that, even if that bible which speaks to him terrible things, were a falsehood, the very course of nature and the current of human affairs furnish the strongest possible proof of-judgment to come. "Out of thine own mouth wilt thou be condemned;"-thine own excuse will be thy condemnation. And which of us has not made this excuse? Which of us has not often said, in his heart, "Thou will not require it ;" and sinned in the face of the sentence registered against all iniquity,-in the face of the sentence registered against fornication, uncleanness, inordinate affection, evil concupiscence, and covetousness, which is idolatry,-against anger, wrath, malice, blasphemy, filthy communication,—in the face of the sentence registered against all those that forget God? There is a treasury of vengeance in heaven: and day by day, and hour by hour you have been casting in your mite. When will your cup be full? Perhaps at this moment it may be overflowing; perhaps the plain, simple warning that you hear this day, may be the last that the Lord God will ever vouchsafe to your soul. This at least is certain,-that the next time you return to your sin, it will be in deliberate defiance of the wrath of the Almighty. Who shall say, whether you will be allowed to make the trial a second time? Probably your cup may then be full-and he may strike you dead upon the spot. Or if not, he may let you live as a monument of his vengeance; and as Pharaoh was allowed to live, after he had resisted all the means of grace, that the Lord might openly manifest his power and justice upon him, God may prolong your life only that men may see a sinner gasping without hope upon his death-bed, and, as they look upon the horrors of your dying countenance, they may smite their breasts and say, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" pp. 262-264.

One more passage will be presented, in which the representation is no less just than pathetic. It is from a charity sermon for poor children, and was one of his earliest efforts.

Suppose it were suddenly revealed to any one among you, that he, and he alone of all that walk upon the face of this earth, was destined to receive the benefit of his Redeemer's atonement, and that all the rest of mankind were lost-and lost to all eternity: it is hard to say what would be the first sensation excited in that man's mind by the intelligence. It is indeed probable it would be joy-to think that all his fears respecting his eternal destiny were now no more; that all the forebodings of the mind and misgivings of the heart-all the solemn stir which we feel rising within us whenever we look forward to a dark futurity, to feel that all these had now subsided forever, to know that he shall stand in the everlasting sunshine of the love of God! It is perhaps impossible that all this should not call forth an immediate feeling of delight: "but if you wish the sensation to continue, you must go to the wilderness; you must beware how you come within sight of a human being, or within sound of a human voice; you must recollect that you are now alone upon the earth; or, if you want society, you had better look for it among the beasts of the field than among the ruined species to which you belong; unless indeed the Almighty, in pity to your desolation, should send his angels before the appointed time, that you might learn to forget in their society the outcast objects of your former sympathies. But to go abroad into human society, to walk amongst beings who are now no longer your fellow-creatures, to feel the charity of your common nature rising in your heart, and to have to crush it within you like a sin, to reach forth your hand to perform one of the common kindnesses of humanity, and to find it withered by the recollection, that

however you may mitigate a present pang, the everlasting pang is irreversible; to turn away in despair from these children whom you have now come to bless and to save (we hope and trust both here and forever)!—perhaps it would be too much for you; at all events, it would be hard to state a degree of exertion within the utmost range of human energy, or a degree of pain within the farthest limit of human endurance, to which you would not submit, that you might have one companion on your lonely way from this world to the mansions of happiness. But suppose, at that moment, that the angel who brought the first intelligence returns to tell you that there are beings upon this earth who may yet be saved, that he was before mistaken, no matter how,—perhaps he was your guardian angel, and darted from the throne of grace with the intelligence of your salvation without waiting to hear the fate of the rest of mankind,-no matter how, but he comes to tell you how that there are beings upon the earth who are within the reach of your Redeemer's love, and of your own, that some of them are now before you, and their everlasting destiny is placed in your hands: then, what would first occur to your mind-privations, dangers, difficulties? No: but you would say, Lord, what shall I do? shall I traverse earth and sea, through misery and torment, that of those whom thou hast given me, I may not lose one? pp. 245-247.

In reviewing the productions of youthful talent, the observation is frequently forced upon us, that although, in general, we are to look for the noblest works from those individuals who have attained to a certain maturity of age; yet there have been splendid exceptions. Some of the greatest intellectual efforts which the world has ever seen, have been put forth at a comparatively early age. Pope wrote his Essay on Criticism when he was only about twenty years of age. Pascal at twenty three demonstrated the phenomena of the gravity of the air. Newton made his most important discoveries before he had completed his twenty fifth year. At the same age Calvin wrote his Institutes. And Euler, at thirty two or thirty three, gained with Maclaurin and D. Bernouilli, the prize of the academy of Paris, for his treatise on the nature of tides. These are a few only of the instances of youthful greatness which might be adduced. Facts of this kind show the importance of beginning early, whether in intellectual or moral cultivation, alike from the prospect that even at this period, signal service may be rendered to the cause of learning or religion, and from the possibility that youth is all the time, in which Providence designs that the achievement shall be made, if made at all.

Of the high mental accomplishments and sincere piety of the subject of our present notice, we have offered, we suppose, sufficient specimens. In him these attributes were united in an eminent degree; and this union, as has been already intimated, constitutes the highest human excellence. A conviction of its importance and desirableness will, we doubt not, justify us with our readers, in submitting a few observations upon the subject.

The loveliness of Mr. Wolfe's character certainly speaks much, in favor of an extensive and even tasteful cultivation of the mind. Much of the charm about Mr. W. is connected with the variety and elegance of his intellectual accomplishments. These, as the

medium of exhibiting the heart, gave a peculiar cast to his piety -imparting to it an unusual elevation, sweetness, and gentleness. Indeed, his great literary acquisitions, sanctified by the Spirit of God, rendered him, in every respect, an admirable specimen of human nature. How would the church of God be blessed, were the numbers of such men greatly increased! It is, in truth, most desirable for her sake, as well as their own, that all whose minds are adorned with learning, should embrace the gospel; and that they who have already embraced it, but have neglected the means of adequate mental improvement, should feel their obligations,where capacity and opportunity exist, to add to their piety the rich endowments of a cultivated intellect and taste. Some, however, in consequence of feeling the influence of religious considerations, and of engaging in a new and heavenly pursuit, have almost scrupulously avoided every thing like elegant accomplishments— even of the mind. The acquisition of an elegant taste, or even of science in general, where they were fitted for it, has seemed to them little better than trifling-perhaps as leading their souls away from God and duty, and as injuring their spiritual interests. But these are mistaken views-the suggestions of superstitious weakness, or of a very limited survey of the relations which we bear to other beings, and to the world which we inhabit. With how little reason the persons in question, dread such a cultivation as we speak of, especially in respect to polite literature, may be learned from looking at some of the purposes which this cultivation subserves in connection with piety.

1. One obvious end to be answered is, that improvement of our entire nature which is so fitting in itself, and so consentaneous to the divine will. If elegant accomplishments of mind are added to christian principle, the man, in a comparative sense, is perfected, as an intelligent, moral being. Now, are we not bound as a matter of propriety and conscience, thus to improve the nature which God has given us? May one portion of this nature be neglected, when it is evidently the divine intention in creating it, that the whole should be perfected? The intellectual, as well as the moral powers, being a part of our constitution, require cultivation, and this, in the form of excellence which we have now more particularly in view, no less than in other forms-the elegant and tasteful, as well as the abstruse and profound. The whole man-the entire intellectual and moral nature is to be perfected as far as possible, according to the means and opportunities with which we are favored. But this desirable object will fail of being gained, if the powers of the imagination and refined taste are not duly cultivated. Instead of the whole being perfected, a most important part will have been made more or less in vain, accord