fore his children, who should be the first to glory in it. Our chief design, therefore, in these papers, will be to set before our readers such accounts as will speak for themselves; concise narratives, extracted from the most authentic sources, and, in as far as may be, in the words of the narrator, describing the most marked awakenings by which the Church of Christ has been gladdened, whether in our own or other lands, in earlier or more recent times; yet looking chiefly to our own country, in her older and better days. In the present number we shall confine ourselves to a few introductory observations. In speaking of religious revivals, we contend not anxiously for the name, although we receive it as not only expressive but scriptural, according to the prayers, "Revive thy work in the midst of the years,"-" Wilt thou not revive us again, that thy people may rejoice in thee?" There have no doubt been movements in other countries, if not in our own, which have been dignified with the name of revivals, and from which all sober Christians must sensitively shrink. These have made the very word a sound of alarm in many ears. But if the word offend them, they may leave it, and take instead our forefathers' designation of "a work;" or if that be too strong for any, all must at least allow that there are times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord." To assist, however, in removing every prejudice, we shall select, out of many views of the subject that present themselves, one that is both very simple in itself, and very manifestly founded on the Scriptures of truth. 66 The first result which we are entitled to expect in any religious awakening, is the quickening of converted men. This, we apprehend, both from scriptural record and from the experience of the Church, is generally to be looked for before the conversion of sinners; and such a quickening, if extensive and powerful, might be regarded as no mean revival, even without the joy of one added convert. We affirm not that this must ever be the order of divine procedure; for while the enlarged grace of believers is usually employed as an instrument in the conversion of sinners, the sinner's repentance is again often eminently instrumental in arousing the faithful from their slumbers; and we can easily suppose a time of great refreshing having its very first visible commencement in the conversion of some heinous offender. The other, however, is the more usual and natural order; the Spirit first stirring up desires, and expectation, and prayer, in those who are already led by him; and then, in answer to their supplications, descending as dew, both on themselves, and on the impenitent around them. Thus did the Church continue with one accord in prayer and supplication before the great Pentecostal blessing, which fell first on them, and then on thousands more. Now take a single view of the Christian charactertake its amendment in one individual feature, and let that amendment be general and simultaneous throughout the Church; and you have what would bring us very near to all that we are desiring. The character given to the Ephesian Church by Him who holds the seven stars in his right hand is highly honourable: in the crowd of combining excellencies there is discovered but a single blot, yet this one blot mars all its beauty, and endangers its very existence: "Repent, or I will remove thy candlestick." This Church stood nobly distinguished by many graces-fruitful in good works, laborious, patient, persevering, cherishing a lively hatred against evil deeds, exercising a jealous vigilance against the admission either of ungodly men into her communion, or of erroneous doctrine, however specious, into her creed, and all not for selfish honour or worldly benefit but for "His name's sake." Yet one dead fly spoiled all the ointment-she had left her first love. "Nevertheless, I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first love;" or rather omitting what has been unnecessarily, if not unwisely, added in our translation, "nevertheless I have against thee," or " I have this against thee, that thou hast left thy first love;" for it is not a mere somewhat, a petty fault, but such a sin as ruined all their character, and undermined all their strength. Now we fear that it does not call for the penetrating eye of the Searcher of Hearts to discover the same spot in very many believers of our own day; and if against those whose character was, in other respects, so high and consistent, so grave a charge might be preferred, what is the state of hundreds among ourselves, whose standard will bear no comparison with theirs, and who, even in their own way and walk, are inconsistent and unstable? Is not many a heart sobbing out the sad confession, "I have left my first love? This forsaken love must be restored; its renewal is not simply desirable, but urgently and absolutely needful; its absence is even now shaking our candlestick. Let us endeavour then, for a moment, to recall the faded features of this first affection. The first love of the new-born child of God is characterised by freshness, and tenderness, and sorrow, and wonder, and gratitude, and fear. It is a love not defiled or decayed, but pure and virginal, and fresh as the dew of the morning: the heart that is touched by it is soft, and tender as the heart of a little child, and cannot resist one word of God, whether carrying comfort or reproof, but is like heated wax to the seal; it is a penitent and sorrowful love, it weeps for having sinned against him whom it now embraces; it is full of wonder, admiration, astonishment, at the mingled justice and goodness of God in the salvation of a lost sinner; it is a grateful love, not a mere cold admiration, nor a mere rapturous admiration, but a grateful admiration, it is the very spirit of thankfulness: it is further marked by trembling fear, not the fear that hath torment, but the filial, solemn, hallowed, reverential, awful fear of Jehovah, the glorious, the great, the good; and that other fear of him who stands on the mouth of a pit, not into which he is about to be cast, but out of which he has just been drawn, and still trembles while he stands, rejoicing on the rock. The This first love, then, we have not described and we cannot-but we trust we have so sketched it, even with a rude and erring hand, that those who have known it may recognise something of its form, and be assisted in filling up its features for themselves. But it may be objected,-This is first love, and can never, from its very nature, either continue long, or, if lost, be fully restored again, but must of necessity die away, and be succeeded by other features of Christian character, different, indeed, but not less valuable. Such is the occasionally expressed sentiment even of godly men, but it is equally unfounded and pernicious. first love of the child of God dies not away of itself, it may be stifled and put to death; it forsakes not us, but we forsake it, for we read not, "thy first love hath left thee," but "thou hast left thy first love" by wilful transgression, and transgression of such a kind as, if not speedily repented of, will prove fatal. This love is the affection of the new man, and that new never waxes old, it may well, therefore, retain for ever the features of eternal youth; its tenderness may be ever increasing, for if we enter the kingdom as a little child, we grow great in the kingdom by still becoming a little child; its sorrow may be more intense every day, for with the gradual healing of the mental eye, we are daily seeing more clearly Immanuel's deep wounds for our transgressions; its wonder need not pause, for eternity will still be opening new marvels in redeeming grace; its gratitude may find fuel enough to keep it burning brightly, for we are ever just beginning to learn the greatness of our deliverance; its childlike and trembling fear cannot but remain, if we make any progress in heavenly life, for the nearer access we enjoy to God, the more thorough is the sentiment, "Thou, even thou, art to be feared;" and how confidently soever we may rejoice in Jesus Christ, we have still nothing but his strong arm between us and the deep, dark gulf the more firmly we grasp that arm the more steadily can we gaze on the pit that was ready to swallow us, and then we tremble and grasp more closely again. In a word, then, if the Christian is really growing in grace, his first love will brighten, and become more beauteous in all its features. The tree that has been strengthened by the cold of a hundred winters will, if healthy and growing, put forth in spring its thousand buds and shoots, and each of them as fresh and green as the first solitary twig that sprung from the earth. But we have left our first love. Thousands among us have lost it, not only from present possession, but from our very memories. Yet our heavenly Father is saying, "I remember thee, the kindness of thy youth, the love of thine espousals." Let us hear his voice and return; and let us mark what will be the effect of a simple restoration in this one respect. Let there be no extraordinary or marvellous work; let there even be no absolute increase of grace, but a mere renewal of former love in all its freshness and beauty. In one day the face of a congregation would be changed. The believers in it have been converted one by one at the distance of months or years from each other, and each at his own conversion has scarcely been able to find another in the same state with himself. One live coal has been seen burning after another, but each has begun to cool before the next has been kindled. The Church has thus seemed to consist of so many scattered and half-extinguished embers. But let all be quickened again, and the effect would be similar to that of so many simultaneous conversions. Instead of being cooled, and even damped by every other intercourse, would only kindle the heart of the believer into more glowing warmth. Faith would increase, and an increase of love would follow, and the congregation would stand forth in a character entirely new. the same change take place in many congregations, and the whole aspect of the Church would be altered, enlivened, ennobled. Let But it would not end here sinners would quickly be converted. There are probably few who have themselves tasted that the Lord is gracious, without being, in some measure, blessed for the salvation of others,-of their own family, or their own acquaintance, or of strangers, brought, perhaps, into seemingly accidental contact; and in this respect the recently converted have often been more observably owned by God than his more exercised and experienced servants. And why? There is much to hinder the free course of the Word, as proceeding from the lips of the young convert,-ignorance, rashness, self-confidence, impatience, presumption; yet he succeeds where the prudent, and tried, and wise have failed. There is no obvious reason for this difference, but that the first, with all his faults, is fresh and hearty, and honest in his affections, while the other, with all the maturity of his many graces, has fallen from the simplicity of his early love. There can be no question that, in all other respects, the matured and well tried soldier of the cross is the far fitter instrument of the two, and if this one blemish were removed, he would doubtless be the more honoured and successful. Let this love, then, be renewed in the heart of the many true men that are among us, and, by God's blessing, we might look for the salvation of a multitude of sinners. "Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free Spirit: then will I teach transgressors thy ways; and sinners shall be converted unto thee." Here, then, is one view of a revival of religion-one out of many aspects of the same interesting subject. And can any Christian desire less either for himself or for others? We may desire greater things than these, we may and do desire a mighty and manifest outpouring of the Spirit, a known and felt nearness of the great God, a cordial and triumphant honouring of Jesus Christ, such as would make all acknowledge that, hitherto, they had known nothing. But the most scrupulous and fearful cannot pray for less than we have described; if he seeks to content himself with less, his all is in danger,-the candlestick will be removed. Let us "remember, then, from whence we are fallen, and repent," and the Lord will remember the work of his hands, and repent concerning his servants. He will satisfy us early with his mercy, and we shall rejoice and be glad all our days. A GLANCE AT OUR SACRED POETS. No. III. BY CHARLES MOIR, ESQ. Or the many bright stars that stud the horizon of Bri tish literature, few shine with such undecaying lustre as Addison. His prose writings evince all the elegance of the polished scholar, with that deep spirit of research that marks the refined philosopher. As a poet, he cannot truly be said to move in the first class; but his hymns are all elegantly written, and breathe the spirit of genuine piety. It would have been enough to establish his fame, had he produced no other than the first hymn, of the General Assembly's collection, which is familiar to us all as household words: "When all thy mercies, O my God," &c. be confidently followed. "As a teacher of wisdom," says Dr Johnson," he may All the enchantments of fancy, and all the cogency of argument, are employed to recommend to the reader his real interest,-the care of pleasing the Author of his being." I will extract "An Ode," not that it is the finest of his lyrical pieces, known to the great body of readers of the present work where all are beautiful; but because it may be less than others of his poems :-- "AN ODE." I. How are thy servants blest, O Lord! II. In foreign realms, and lands remote, III. Thy mercy sweeten'd every soil, Think, O my soul, devoutly think, V. Confusion dwelt on every face, And fear in every heart; When waves on waves, and gulfs on gulfs, O'ercame the pilot's art. VI. Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord! VII. For though in dreadful whirls we hung, I knew thou wert not slow to hear, VIII. The storm was laid, the winds retired, Obedient to thy will; The sea, that roar d at thy command, At thy command was still. Though in a bare and rugged way, The barren wilderness shall smile, With sudden greens and herbage crown'd, To Addison succeeds Dr Isaac Watts, the poet and philosopher. This eminent man was brought up a dissenter, and early in life commenced his labours as an Independent preacher. He was no less celebrated as a divine, than distinguished for his piety, and the blamelessness of his private life. His Psalms and Hymns have had a wide spread popularity; and at this time of day it would be superfluous to enlarge on their long acknowledged merits. The latter, more especially, are dear to every one from early associations; for what child, who has got beyond his spelling-book, has failed to commit one or other of these beautifully simple and truly divine songs to memory? The sixth and sixty-sixth hymns are each conceived in the best spirit, and written with great elegance and simplicity. They will give the reader a pretty fair idea of the general style of Dr Watts. A MORNING SONG. Once more, my soul, the rising day Night unto night his name repeats, 'Tis He supports my mortal frame; On a poor worm thy power might tread, Thy justice might have crushed me dead,. A thousand wretched souls are fled And yet thou lengthenest out my thread, O God, let all my hours be thine, Then shall my sun in smiles decline, A PROSPECT OF HEAVEN MAKES DEATH EAST. There is a land of pure delight, Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood, So to the Jews old Canaan stood, But timorous mortals start and shrink And linger, shiv'ring on the brink, O could we make oar doubts remove, Could we but climb where Moses stood, And view the landscape o'er, Nor Jordan's streams, nor death's cold food, The history of Joseph, and the hymns of Mrs Elizabeth Rowe, most certainly secure her from being passed over without remark here, although she might not, at any time, have reached the higher regions of poetry. She possessed a highly cultivated miud, and a classical taste, combined with a considerable degree of talent, which she cheerfully devoted to the cause of her Master. The hymn I subjoin as a specimen of her style, combines elegance of composition with genuine piety. HYMN Thou didst, O mighty God! exist Ere time began his race; Before the ample elements Filled up the void of space. Before the ponderous earthly globe Before the ocean's mighty springs Ere, through the gloom of ancient night, Or starry poles were reared. Or, to their harps, the sons of light Ere men adored, or angels knew, Or praised thy wondrous name; For ever permanent and fixed, Unchang d in everlasting years Thomas Parnell, the celebrated author of the Hermit, was born in Dublin in 1679. He was educated for the Church, and in his twenty-sixth year received the archdeaconry of Clogher. Through the influence of Swift he was raised, at a later period, to the diocese of Dublin, worth about four hundred pounds a-year. He died at Chester in 1717, in his thirty-eighth year. "Parnell appears to me," says Goldsmith, in his life of the poet, "to be the last of that great school that had modelled itself upon the ancients, and taught English poetry to resemble what the generality of mankind have allowed to excel. A studious and correct observer of antiquity, he set himself to consider nature with the light it lent him; and he found that the more aid he borrowed from the one, the more delightfully he resembled the other. Parnell is ever happy in the selection of his images, and singularly careful in the choice of his subjects. His poetical language is not less correct than his subjects are pleasing. He has considered the language of poetry as the language of life, and conveys the warmest thoughts in the simplest expressions," The hymn to "Contentment," and the "Night-Piece on Death," are poems that when once read can never be forgotten. These fine productions, however, are too extended for extracting, and to give a small portion of either, without the remainder, would only destroy their beauty. The following lines are from a sacred poem entitled " Moses," and are descriptive of the power of the Deity, and the insignificance of man. Man (mortal creature) fram'd to feel decays, For what's a thousand fleeting years with Thee? So life's attended on by certain doom, And death's their rest; their resting-place a tomb. And youth its morning, age its evening shows. Thus tender blades of grass, when beams diffuse, Rise from the pressure of their early dews, Point tow'rds the skies their elevated spires, And proudly flourish in their green attires: But soon (ah! fading state of things below) The scythe destructive mows the lovely show. The rising sun thus saw their glories high; The sun descended, sees their glories die. After Parnell comes Dr Edward Young, the celebrated author of the " Night Thoughts." That splendid effort of genius was composed after the death of his wife, and when the poet had completed his sixtieth year. It would be superfluous here to enter upon any critical disquisition on the merits of a poem which has deservedly occupied a high place in the literature of a present and a past age. Passages may certainly be here and there met with in that extraordinary work which are tame in imagination and affected in style, but its excellencies so far outweigh all its defects, that they are completely forgotten in the admiration which its sound philosophy, and fine moral reflection, are calculated to awaken in the mind of the careful reader. It may be justly said that the truths of religion are there enforced in strains of sustained majesty and beauty, every way in unison with a subject at once so exalted and so momentous. His Paraphrase of part of the Book of Job is also a fine poem, and not less so is his "Last Day," which, after the "Night Thoughts," may be set down as his best production. The following extract is from the " Night Thoughts," and may be entitled MAN'S IMMORTALITY PROVED BY NATURE. Speaks wisdom; is his oracle supreme: And he who most consults her, is most wise. Look nature through, 'tis revolution all. Ail change, no death. Day follows night; and night Droops into pallid autumn; winter grey, Then melts into the spring; soft spring, with breath With this minute distinction, emblems just, That gravitates, this soars. Th' aspiring soul, Zeal, and humility, her wings to heaven. Matter immortal? and shall spirit die? From his "Last Day" the following exquisite lines are gleaned : And is there a LAST DAY? and must there come ! Ambition, swell, and thy proud sails to show, In hopes of glory to be quite involved! Finer extracts than those given above will seldom be met with in the whole range of our classical poets, and with them I conclude my present remarks. I have now arrived at what may be fitly termed the brightest era in the history of sacred poetry, when the interests genius of Young, Blair, Thomson, and Cowper. The of eternal truth were taken up and advanced by the first has just been extracted from, and my next paper will bring us down to Cowper, one of the highest names in the whole catalogue of British literature. CHRISTIAN TREASURY. God is the Guide of his People.-The Lord will guide his people safely through all the trials and changes of the present life. Every condition in life is accompanied with its own peculiar snares, which tend in various ways to move the believer from his steadfastness and comfort. If his situation be easy and agreeable, he is in danger of resting in present enjoyments, and forgetting to prosecute his heavenly journey. On the other hand, if trouble and distress assail him, he is ready to weary in well doing, and to faint in his mind. But the Keeper of Israel will guide his people through all these dangerous ways. He will conduct them with equal safety through the slippery path of prosperity, and the rugged road of adversity. Though made to go through fire and water, he will bring them out into a wealthy place. He will deliver them from every evil work, and preserve them to his heavenly kingdom. Thus will God conduct his people through the whole of their pilgrimage here below; and surely when he hath brought them so far, he will not abandon them in the most trying exigence of all.-Rev. Dr CAMPBELL. (Sermons and Minor Theological Pieces.) A Good Resolution.-It is the over curious ambition of many, to be best or to be none: if they may not do so well as they would, they will not do so well as they may. I will do my best to do the best, and what I want in power, supply in will. Thus, while I pay in part, I shall not be a debtor for all. He owes most that pays nothing.-WARWICK. (Spare Minutes.) MISCELLANEOUS., The Early Religious History of George the Third.— The following is an extract from a hitherto unpublished letter dated 24th May, 1759, when George III., then Prince of Wales, was almost twenty-one years of age, having been born on 4th June 1738. The letter is from Mrs Webber, London, grand-daughter of Dr Guise, (author of the Paraphrase,) and a most excellent godly woman, to Mr Archibald Wallace, merchant in Edinburgh: "Mr Romaine, whom you certainly must have heard of, one of our serious clergy in the establishment here, came to see us in the beginning of March last, and then gave us the following account which he had from Mr Vere, a noted corn-cutter, one of his constant hearers, and whom he is so intimate with as to see him almost every day. This Mr Vere is a very serious godly man. Some time ago, a nobleman of the Prince of Wales' household, was at Mr Campbell's, banker, in the Strand, and was complaining that he was so lame with a corn that he could scarcely walk. Mr Campbell told him he had just been cured of a bad corn by a clever fellow, one Vere; Ay,' said his Lordship, then I'll send for him.' Accordingly he took his address, and sent for him on a Saturday, to come the next morning; in answer to which Mr Vere sent his compliments to his Lordship, and stated that were it not a time sacred to the service of God, he would readily wait on him, but, being so, had his Majesty sent for him he would not have come; any other time he was his Lordship's humble servant. When the servant came back with this message, my Lord smiled, and said he is a comical fellow, well I must have him on Monday, I think, if he wont come to-morrow.' Monday he was sent for, and waited on his Lordship. My Lord began with him. Well, I suppose you are a Methodist,' and rallied him a good deal upon his scrupulosity. He told his Lordship, No,' he was not a Methodist, (for he had not then heard any Methodist preacher.) Said his Lordship, I cannot tell how it is, but there's a great deal of religion in the world nowa-days.' 'Yes,' answered Vere, so there is my Lord, and I wish there was more of it among persons of your rank.' In short, he talked very freely to his Lordship in this way, but whether it had any good effect on him or not, Mr Romaine did not tell me. However, soon after this the Princess Dowager of Wales was complaining that she had a troublesome corn, upon which his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales mentioned the success that Vere had with this noble Lord. She then sent for him, and he cured her corn. One day when Vere came to wait upon her, the Prince of Wales was with her, and was prodigiously struck with Vere's countenance, being much like, in person, one Mr Burnett, who taught his Highness the languages, and who, it is believed, was the means of his conversion. This Mr Burnett took great pains with him, as to his religious sentiments, put serious books into his hands, and was greatly blessed to him. Well, Vere being so much like Mr Burnett, it ran in his head that he must be a good man too, as he seemed to carry it in his very look. On inquiry the prince found that Vere took care of hands as well as of feet, by cutting nails that were grown awkward, and said one day to the princess, I'll have Vere to cut my nails always, and if you will give him forty pounds per annum, I'll give him the same, and he shall be our domestic.' This was agreed to and done. Tuesday is the day he waits upon the prince every week, and the prince has him an hour quite alone; every body else is turned out of the room. This hour, Mr Vere assures Mr Romaine, is all spent in experimental and heart-searching conversation. The heads of their conversation one Tuesday, Mr Vere gave Mr Romaine, which are as follows: Well, Vere, you heard Mr Romaine last Thursday, at St. Dunstan's, I suppose,' Yes, and please your highness.' How does he do? 'Is What was he upon? Has he gone through the Acts yet? which he was expounding at that church on Thursdays. No, and please your highness.' 'Well I have been thinking of what he could say on such and such passages, (mentioning them,) do recollect as much as you can and tell me. And where was you last Sunday morning,' upon which Vere shook his head, ‘ay,' said the prince, you may well shake your head indeed, it is a sad thing these Gospel ministers cannot get churches to preach in; it should not be so if things were in my power. At court, I am obliged to attend moral preaching, but that wont do for such a poor sinner as I am.' So you heard Mr Whitefield?' 'Yes, and please your highness, because I could not hear the Gospel at church I went there.' 'Well, what was he upon?' This makes Vere give him an account of his sermon, also of Mr Romaine's in the afternoon. Mr Jones then stood candidate for a lectureship in St. Laurence's Church, in King Street, Guildhall, which he has since lost. Mr Jones likely to be chosen at St. Laurence's? I wish he may have it; I have a vast love for him though I don't know him; I am sure he is a good man from all I have heard of him.' He then inquires concerning the work of God in all places, how it prospers, and talks to Mr Vere, in the freest manner, about his soul's concerns. 'Tis a charming excuse, as he is his servant, to come so often to him. Is not this remarkable, Sir, that so mean a person should have his ear, and be made so useful to him, and is it not great matter of thankfulness that we have such a delightful prospect with respect to the prince? He often, when he passes by Lord Dartmouth, that eminent pattern of piety at court, gives him a hearty squeeze of the hand, and whispers in his ear, I cannot stay to talk with you now, but you and I shall be better acquainted by and by.' A serious friend of mine was visiting a family who attend the royal chapel, and they were telling my friend in what a reverential way the prince behaved at chapel, so that they could not but take notice of it." As to Lord Dartmouth mentioned, he is the person to whom Newton's Letters "in the Cardiphonia" to a Nobleman, are addressed, and to whom Cowper alludes, "And one that wears a coronet and prays." It is said that after the prince came to the throne, on a public day Lord Dartmouth appeared at the levee, when one of the attendant noblemen said, "I'll bet Dartmouth has been at prayer to-day." "Yes, and please your Majesty," said Lord Dartmouth, I thought it right first to pay my duty to my God and then to my king." Well said, Dartmouth," replied his Majesty, "and like yourself." 66 |