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destined luminary of his own parish, in which he is placed as the centre of the system, to communicate the blessings of light and heat to all who are within the sphere of his influence. His path too should be, not like that of the meteor, now attracting by its splendor, and now lost in darkness; nor like that of the comet, surprising by the eccentricity of its orbit; but steady and undeviating, like the shining light of the firmament, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. And when the shadows of the evening of life are gathering around him, the horizon should gleam with his setting beams; the emblem of his rising, on the morning of the resurrection, in another world, there ordained to shine forth, with additional lustre and unclouded glory, as the sun in the kingdom of his Father.""It is not now a question to be proposed for our deliberate consideration, whether or not we are willing to incur the awful responsibility of the ministerial office. We have incurred it. A dia pensation of the Gospel has already been committed to us, at our own request. By our own act and deed we have set our seal to the engagement; and, in the most solemn transaction of our whole lives, pledged ourselves, in the presence of God and of his people, to the performance of it. Our own vows, therefore, are upon us; and no power can dissolve our obligation to fulfil them. Necessity, paramount necessity, is laid upon us. We cannot draw back from our engage We cannot turn away our eyes from the ment without drawing back unto perdition. work before us, but our own hand-writing, zar's wall, shall instantly rise to our view, more dreadful than the writing on Belshaz and prove not only the means but the ground of our confusion. Of all dissem blers, shall not the clergyman, who trifies with his most solemn vows, be justly pro nounced the worst? If when he professed to trust that he was inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost to take upon him this office and ministry, he came with a lie in his right hand, help anticipating for him, that heart-rending can he help anticipating, at least can any one question of God to his soul, Why hath Satan filled thy heart to lie onto the Holy Ghost?"" Is not Christ's fold now as dear to Him, as when He first purchased it with his own blood? Or is the case of a hireling who careth not for the sheep impos sible, visionary, improbable? Judas was among the apostles. I have chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil.' Is the church of Christ more likely in itself to have laborious servants, now the Lord of those 3 Y

servants has ceased personally to appoint then to their office? To betray the cause of Christ in any age, is to betray Christ himself. Every unfaithful steward imitates the conduct, participates the guilt, and approximates to the doom of the apostate Judas. There is no neutrality in this cause. He that is not with Christ is against Him. How important is the decision to whom we belong! While the remotest possibility exists of a single individual among us treading in the steps of the primitive betrayer of his Master, shall we not each, in the sincerity of our hearts, anxiously appeal, with this question, unto Him who alone can search them, Lord, is it I?"—"Can we look around in any parish, however small, without being filled with serious apprehension, that some are still in the gall of bitterness and the bond of iniquity, pressing forward with fatal unconcern in the broad road that leadeth unto destruction? And is there no language in this misery? Do not the cries of those that are ready to perish penetrate our ears, and loudly call upon us to deliver them, that they go not down to the pit? Shall not we the appointed ministers of Christ, in our day, weep between the porch and the altar, and say, Spare thy people, O Lord, spare them; and let not thine heritage be brought to confusion? On what principle, is less zeal, less faithfulness, less compassion, required in our days, than in the days of old? What circumstances have arisen, during the lapse of ages, to authorize any abatement of ministerial ardour? Is the heart of man less deceitful, and less desperately wicked? Is Satan less active and vigilant? Is the nature of sin less ensnaring? Are its consequences less tremendous? Is its history less marked, like Ezekiel's roll, with lamentation, and mourning, and woe? Is the salvation of the Gospel less needful, or are men of themselves more disposed to embrace it? Away with every refuge for inactivity and delay! Let us arise to save our fellow-creatures from the ruins of the fall. Let us place ourselves in the breach between them and their offended God. Even with our utmost diligence and earnestness, it will be extremely difficult to persuade our congregations not to thrust away from them their own mercies! They will be but

scarcely saved, after all that we can do.”"We must give an account of our steward ship. The Lord, whose servants we are, cometh to reckon with us. Here the subject assumes a most solemn aspect. Behold! He cometh, and every eye shall see him. The events of that great and terrible day of

the Lord are, no doubt, unspeakably important to every individual. But the ministers of Christ seem to have a more than ordinary interest in its proceedings. Our visitation, whether of judgment or of mercy, is not the visitation of all men. Nothing seems ordained to be dealt out to us on a scale of common calculation. Our destinies are not to be weighed in the general balances of the aniverse. We seem appointed to be held up, in both worlds, as a spectacle to men and angels. Are the vials of God's wrath to be poured out from the cup of his indignation? Upon whom will they be poured out so copiously, and with so little mixture, as upon the idle and unprofitable servant? If the wicked, dying in their own transgressions, though unwarned by their minister, perish deservedly, and without remedy, what shall become of the minister himself, perishing under the load of his own guilt, and the additional guilt of every individual who is lost through his neglect ? If the one be cast into a furnace of fire, how much more will the furnace be heated for the other! I confess, I cannot comprehend what those persons mean, who accuse us of excess of zeal in our ministerial duties, unless they mean that we should be willing to suffer this excess of torment. But are we willing to suffer it? Can our heart endure, or can our hands be strong, in the days that God shall thus deal with us?' (Ezek. xxii. 14.) Is it not sufficient that our fellowcreatures perish themselves, without involv ing us in the consequences of their perdition? At least, let it be more than sufficient in our eyes. If others trenible not for us, let us learn to tremble for ourselves. And we ask, Is there not a cause? If private Christians are reasonably exhorted to work out their own salvation with fear and trembling, shall not we, who have more at issue than they, not feel equal apprehension? Shall we see no reason for entering into the feelings and language of the apostle, and for taking beed to ourselves, lest, after having preached to others, we ourselves should be castaways?" pp. 25-37.

While admonitions of this solemn character are uttered from the pulpits of the Establishment, addressed by a clergyman to his brethren, and published at the request of the Visitor and his clergy, we feel that the vitality of godliness yet circulates in the bosom of the United Church. They are substantially

the sentiments which breathed from the souls of her martyred reformers, when they anticipated her liberation from the bonds of error and superstitious observances; and foresaw that the principles for which they died, would authorize her ministers to gather their views of the pastoral care directly from the Christian Scriptures; and that her ordination offices, deduced from the same inspired source, would possess more than a human measure of spiritual beauty. But these devout fathers of our communion knew human nature too well, to anticipate a succession of pastors whose personal sanctity and ministerial fidelity would restore the apostolic age. They left behind them, however, a confession and a liturgy, to serve as rallying points to such as should love their memories, and aspire to believe and live like them; and, farther, labour to lead their flocks into the same pastures. Whenever we are privileged to meet with shepherds who not only feed and protect their sheep, but discover an ardour and an ability to communicate the results of their own experience to their fellows, while equally anxious to be themselves guided and reproved in their turn, we recognise the faithful ministers of the New Testament, and the genuine sons of our own reformed establishment. -If the author of the Sermon under consideration be a living illustration of his own doctrines, we con gratulate his parish, on the possession of an instructor who combines with the authority of office the efficiency of example. We speak, it will be observed, hypothetically; aware of the necessity, as indirectly urged in the discourse itself, of recollecting that extremely vivid representations of pastoral fidelity may be drawn by persons conscious of copying from originals borrowed; for the occasion, and not from a home model. The fact, indeed, is, that the doctrinal system on which this discourse is founded, invariably tends to humble those who most

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sincerely adhere to it; and, consequently, its clerical adherents are the last to assume their own religi ous consistency. The more they exert themselves to save men's souls, the more, as they think, remains to be done; and in telling the world what are their own calculations on the subject of pastoral duty, they are frequently ready to interrupt the course of inquiry by exclaiming, Who is sufficient for these things! and by expressing convictions of their own inability, and of unfaithfulness to their own engagements. With the adherents of a more flexible scheme, the case is very dif ferent; since their views of clerical excellence seldom disquiet themselves, and never permanently disturb the deep repose of others. Hence spring visitation charges and sermons, which seem to have no better aim than the occupation of the usual half-hour, with words forgot as soon as uttered, too unmeaning either to invite intellectual attention, or to interest the heart. This is not thrown out as a careless sarcasm, but as a correct account of what has passed when we and our associates have been witnesses. From other quarters we have gathered reports still less propitious to the vital interests of the United Church. On this point, we have only to repeat our allusions to such orations ad clerum, as shoot over the enemies' lines towards objects scarcely within the range of ecclesiastical artillery, and which, if reached at all, can receive no serious damage from a spent ball. As to those engineers who turn the guns against their own comrades, we leave them to the recoil; and in the mean time, counsel the governor of the fortress to prefer that officer who most ably contributes to its defence, even though he may chance to be a subaltern, and have nothing to recommend him but science, valour, and fidelity.

Poems, Moral and Religious. By JOHN STRUTHERS. 2 vols. Foolscap 8vo. Glasgow: Lang. 1814. pp. 176 and 160,

THESE two little volumes are the production of a person originally in jow, and even mean circumstances, and who possessed in early life few advantages of education. He enjoyed, however, the blessing of a pious and affectionate mother, who endeavoured to store his mind with the lessons of true wisdom. We were much pleased with the filial tribute paid to her memory, in a few verses written" on visiting the scenes of his youth."

"Never more shall meet me there,
She, who to a masters's air,
Watchful, joined a mother's care,

Still so soft, so tenderly:
No-in solemn silence laid,
Low she rests among the dead,
From the storms for ever hid,
Dark, that dim mortality.
And upon the very spot,
Where was cast her activè lot,
Passed her deeds-her worth forgot,
Perished even her memory.
Spirit pure! in bliss divine!
Vain th' attempt for verse of mine
Here thy virtues to inshrine,
Child of meek humility!
Yet, to fame if worth impart
Title true, thy feeling heart,
Manners pure devoid of art,
Justly claim celebrity.
Ne'er can I forget the hours,
Closed upon the storm the doors,
When unlocked, thy mental stores
Streamed with sage garrulity;
Teaching many an ancient say,
Useful for life's troublous day,
Many a precious roundelay,→→
Many a tale of piety;
Then, engaged, my thoughtless youth
Caught spontaneous from thy mouth,
Warm, the rapturous strains of truth,
Rich, that glad eternity."

Vol. i. pp. 109-111. His early employment was that of a herdsboy;-a mode of life which, if he had access to books, would afford him many opportunities of indulg

ing his turn for reading. He afterwards quitted the business of tending cattle, and betook himself to the more sedentary occupation of a shoemaker; and when he first became known to the world around him as a

poet, he was earning his daily bread now works on his own account; and as a journeyman in that trade. He by his own labour, with the aid of two apprentices, maintains himself and his family. His residence in Glasgow having placed books within his reach, he has diligently availed himself of this advantage, and has found time to study with great care the best writers in the English language. The friend to whom we are indebted for this brief account of our author, has told us, what we had great pleasure in hearing, that he "retains all the simplicity and plainness of his origin, and, above all, is a man of real religion:" and he has added, what these volumes abundantly confirm, that "his writings are deeply imbued with a religious spirit."

If our readers have been as much interested by these scanty memoirs, as we ourselves have been, they will be desirous to know more of the Glasgow shoemaker and his writings: for, however little there may be of enchantment in that designation, particularly after we have been accustomed to hear so much of po etical ploughmen and ploughboys, shepherds and dairymaids; yet we will venture to affirm, that they will derive more profit, if not more pleasure, from a further acquaintance with the productions of this untutor-` ed minstrel, than with those perhaps of any of the attractive names to which we have alluded. Even his countryman Burns, though he was endowed with so extraordinary a portion of true genius, and though he occasionally employed his pen,' as in the Cotter's Saturday-Een (too much however, we fear, for the sake of poetic effect), in religion's cause, is at times so profane and licentious, that we have never seen his volumés in the hands of young persons

without a feeling of deep regret*. In this respect, and it is no mean praise, Mr. Struthers is blameless. We have not met with a single sentiment in his pages which, if dying, be need wish to blot." Nor is it this negative recomendation alone to which he is entitled: "be may be fairly denominated a Christian wri. ter. His great object appears to be, to mend the heart and elevate the aim of those who may peruse his productions. Of the success with which he has endeavoured to please their ear and gratify their taste, our readers shall themselves judge; and to enable them to do this more satisfactorily, we shall lay before them, in the first place, no partial extract, but the greater part of a poem, called "The Cross." It thus commences.

"Celestial Harp! that once in Salem shed The balm of bliss on spirits steep'd in

woe,

Whose powerful tones, Despair's dark dells to glad,

Shall yet o'er every land melifluous flow; Across thy strings, advent'rous, who can throw

His daring hand, nor ask with anxious pain,

If in his breast these holy fervours glow, Accordant with thy heart-reviving strain, Lest haply thy bold swell he damp with touch profane?

Avails not here proud learning's vain parade,

Of dews that soft from classic skies distil, Of feasting rich in Plato's hallow'd shade, Or rapt'rous, roaming far th' Aonian hill, There dizzying fumes, or cold dark vapours still

Play o'er the past, or on the future lie:

Nor sacred mount, nor consecrated rill— Nor all the streams which Pindus can supply, Can cure the lips unclean, nor clear the sindim'd eye.

But once to taste of that clear stream, which holds

Its winding course thro' Zion's peaceful
vale,

O'er which life's tree its golden bloom unfolds,
And health and fragrance breathe upon

the gale,

It surely would be worth the while of some bookseller to publish an editio expur. gata of his works.

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V

Supreme delights, unceasing transports dwell,
Celestial Harp! upon thy trembling strings;
Seraphic forms bend listening to thy swell,
And cherubs hover round on burning
wings-

And Hope divine, her glittering radiance
Aings,

In heavenly hues, investing all around;

Dejection pale, bold into action springs, Her feeble loins with Faith's strong girdle bound,

While cowardly Despair flies far the hallow'd ground.

Then wake! O! wake with energy divine,

Till this cold heart with heavenly ardour
Till light, and love, and holy joy benign,
glow,
Prevail o'er distance, darkness, doubt and

woe.

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With deeds of deepest import they return,
While ages long to come, in day's broad

lustre burn.

Darkness, again, rolls deep across the sky;
Despair's dark groan still deep and

Before their Idol shrines the nations lye,
deeper grows,

While higher still the tide of misery flows.
Dread, thro' the gloom Rome's ravening
eagle shows

His eye of fire, and flaps his wing of power;▸
Quakes. Superstition with redoubled

throes

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