those he loves; nature requires it; grace thanks for it; but those who love it more than their business, when they should love it only in order to their business, expose themselves to a great deal of sin.' 'I desire,' he writes, to close the day with-Return to thy rest, O my soul; to begin the day with-Return to thy work, O my soul; rest in the arms of God's mercy; work in the strength of his grace."

In one year, Mr. Henry "preached two hundred and eleven times, besides his expoundings" and more private exhortations. In some years, he probably did much more than this. He very frequently "preached seven times a week." For about twenty years, he continued a stated lecture to the convicts and other prisoners confined at Chester, until his meeting with them was broken up by the interference of a curate. In his zealous ministrations, the surrounding villages also largely participated. Scarcely a week passed, in which he may not be traced, by his diary, to soine place in the vicinity, publishing the Gospel of the kingdom. His success among his own people was such as might have been anticipated, from the zeal and fidelity with which he served them. He saw "the Lord's work uniformly prospering in his hands. The congregation became so numerous, as to render necessary the erection of a new and much enlarged" house of worship, in 1699. In a few years after, it became necessary to enlarge upon this. "We know," said the good man, "how to enlarge the straitness of the place. May God, by his grace, enlarge the straitness of our hearts." The number of communicants also rose to above three hundred and fifty; unanimity prevailed;" and Mr. Henry's consolations abounded.

As a specimen of the manner in which he was accustomed to address his congregation, the following may be given. "It is taken from one of his ordinary sermons, and will remind many readers of the impassioned and fervid eloquence of Baxter,* if not of the address and ardor of Paul."

"It is no time to dally and trifle, and speak softly, when precious souls lie at stake, and their eternal condition is so nearly concerned. We cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard. Knowing the terror of the Lord, we persuade men. The blood of your souls would lie at our door, if we should not give you warning. What shall I say to startle you? That I am sure which is weighty enough, though neither new nor unheard of.

"1. That the God with whom we have to do, is a holy, righteous, all-seeing God. That which makes sinners secure is their mistake concerning this. They think of the Almighty as if he were easily imposed upon, altogether such an one as themselves. Thus, they cheat themselves. But be not deceived. Know that God's eye is always upon you. He is acquainted with your secret sirs. He hates every sin; and to all who are impenitent he is a consuming fire.' He is too wise to be deceived. He is true to his threatenings.

"2. That you have precious and immortal souls within you, which must shortly appear before God in judgment, to be determined by a righteous doom to an unchangeable condition. You have a jewel in your hand of inestimable value. It is thy soul, man, thy precious soul, that is concerned. It is not a trifle, or a thing of nought, but thy own soul, which should be dear to thee.

* While young Henry was a student in London, he visited the venerable Baxter, then in prison, and received his counsel and blessing. 31

VOL. III.-NO. V.

Thou hast but one, and once lost, it is irrecoverably lost. The gain of all the world cannot compensate it. "3. That if you live and die in a graceless, unsanctified state, as sure as God is in heaven, you will be to all eternity in the lowest hell. Though you make never so great a profession; though you attain never so high a reputation among men; though you prophesy in Christ's name; though you excel in gifts; though you abound in usefulness; yet all this, without a living principle of grace in your hearts, will never bring you to heaven.

"4. That there are thousands in hell who, when alive in the world, thought themselves as safe, and in as good a condition, as you do. Multitudes have been deceived with counters for gold-have thought they were rich, when they were not so. There is a generation of such. We have reason, then, to be jealous of a cheat in that in which so many have been cheated before us. This should startle us. Take heed lest, while you sleep as others did, you perish as they did.

5. That the unsanctified heart may have a great deal of peace, while yet it is the devil's palace; and while he, as a strong man armed, keepeth it.

"6. That while you are asleep in carnal security your damnation slumbereth not. The Judge stands before the door. Death is at hand, perhaps within a few days, a few hours, of you. You have no lease of your lives. The veil of flesh is easily and quickly rent, and then appears the awful scene of eternity: eternity. A criminal who is condemned to die to-morrow, cannot forget it. It fills him, eating, drinking, sleeping. And can we forget the amazing doom, the amazing sight, the amazing gulf, that we are just upon the brink of, just ready to step into?

"7. That as the tree falls, so it lies, and so it must lie, to eternity. As death leaves us, judgement finds us. The doom is irreversible, the sentence irrevocable, the condition on the other side death unchangeable. A great gulf will be fixed. It is too late to repent in the grave. Up and bestir yourselves, for you have only a little inch of time in which to be doing."

With all his devotedness and success, Mr. Henry was distinguished for his humility. He had a deep sense of the evil of his heart, and of the affecting distance, after all his endeavors, between his attainments and his obligations.

"I have great reason," says he, "to lament my slothfulness, my distractions in prayer, and the coldness of my zeal for God.

O what reason have 1 to mourn over my dulness and deadness, and that I am not more affected myself with those things of God with which I desire to affect others. A trifling world, and a trifling heart, are my great grievances.

"I am come to the close of another year; but my works have not been filled up; there are many empty spaces in my time; and in my duties much amiss; little done; little gained for my soul; though much mercy received; yet my talents have not been traded with aright. It is the blood of Christ that must set all straight between me and my God. There I rest my precious soul."

In the character of Henry, true Christian candor and moderation were united with an invincible love of truth.

"He never temporized; nor did he confound things that differ; and still less, did he mistake the tameness of cowardice, or selfishness, or a love of ease, for commanded charity. He knew that that divine virtue can have no legitimate operation apart from, any more than in opposition to, the essential truths of the Bible.

Noticing the release of the Rev. Thomas Emlyn, (whose popularity was increased by persecution,) from prison, after two years' unjust confinement, Mr. Henry says; He was with me to-day, Sept. 1, 1705, and adheres to the Arian heresy. I perceive he not only retains his corrupt opinions, but seems to speak favorably of deism. He tells me there are many deists; and he finds, in conversation, that they triumph in this-that when they meet with such as condemn them, they cannot get them to enter into a fair argument.'

"In reference to certain schemes of miscalled rationality, Mr. Henry shrewdly remarked, that 'pride is the cause of heresy;' and immediately added-" It

was a pleasure te Socinus, that arch-heretic, that he had no master; we wish it had been his fate to have had no scholars.'

In short, Mr. Henry, in all his relations, was an eminently holy and useful man. He was one of those who, being dead, yet speak, and will continue to speak, with instruction and profit, to generations yet unborn-who, having turned many to righteousness," will shine as the brightness of the firmament, and as the stars for ever and ever."

Christian Essays: To which is added an Essay on the Influence of a Moral Life on our Judgement in Matters of Faith. By the REV. SAMUEL CHARLES WILKS, A. M. From the second London edition. Boston: Perkins & Marvin. 1829. pp. 348.

THE publication of a volume of Essays, and especially a volume of moral or Christian essays, is getting to be a rarity. No form of composition was once more popular, or more generally sought by the reading world. But within half a century, within the memory indeed of the present generation, a change has taken place in respect to this department, more remarkable than has often occurred in the history of letters. From standing at the very summit of reputation, and drawing into its service the most richly endowed by nature or education, it has suddenly sunk into absolute neglect, if not contempt. We may almost ask, who now reads a Spectator or Rambler, an Adventurer or Idler? A volume of religious Essays is hardly named without producing a positive sensation of languor; at the introduction of it, we involuntarily "wheel the sofa round," not to listen, but to sleep. As to sermons, a kindred and once equally esteemed department of instruction, and we may almost say of amusement also, they are a drug in the book market; whole alcoves in our public libraries, (private libraries they now rarely burden) groan with them, unrespited from year to year.

The causes of this change in the public taste are pretty obvious. The multiplication of books has presented opportunity for selection. The variety and amount of talent devoted to composition have vastly increased. The new facilities for printing have brought almost all popular works within the reach of the whole reading community. Of course, that community now consults not merely its ability, or its necessities, but its taste, its fancy. The natural consequence is, that works of an exciting, moving power, beautiful description, animated eloquence, splendid scenery, lofty enterprise, thrilling incident, or the heat and piquancy of controversy, -whatever enchains attention and rouses the sympathies, these, and these almost alone, find encouragement. Reading is more

subservient to amusement than to labor-more a luxury than a means of thought and moral discipline.

The Christian world partake of the prevailing spirit. To be well received, to be read, a Christian author must offer novelty, or imagination, or strong emotion. Truth, in its utmost simplicity, is less satisfying than it once was. The mind is less at home, if the expression may be used; its objects are more out of itself; there is more observation and less reflection; more dependence on external aids, and less on its own resources. There is more information among Christians, but less thorough mental discipline; more knowledge of other men and things, but less knowledge of themselves. The sympathies of the renewed mind take hold of a wider range of objects-such objects fill the whole compass of vision-they give the Christian life an aspect of enterprise, of business, of striking results and rewards; but it is to be doubted, whether there is as true a sense of our real character in God's sight, as humble and meek a piety, as holy and elevated a conception of redemption from indwelling sin, as honorable thoughts of the mercy and patience of the Saviour, as close and scrupulous a walk with God, as have sometimes distinguished the churches. Christianity should be practical; but it should be, also, meditative. The monk ran into one extreme; there is danger of running into the other. A man who loves the duties of the closet can easily enter into the feelings of the primitive recluse, who sought retirement from the scenes of human pride, and pleasure, and vice, in the solitudes of nature, where he could bring God near, and commune with Him, without distraction or diversion,

"Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise."

How often will a good man wish for such a retreat! How delightful to look back, over all the intervening absurdities, mummeries, and iniquities of the dark ages, to the melancholy but amiable and heavenly spirit, in which, no doubt, the monastic institutions originated. It was the abuse, the extreme indulgence of a disposition deeply implanted in the pious mind, that ultimately introduced the long dark train of solemn evils, which so afflicted the Christian nations of Europe for centuries; and which brought down heavier judgments upon the church, in the form of satire, and sneer, and sophistry, than it had experienced from the sword or the flames of all the imperial persecutions.

In avoiding the extremes of a purely meditative religion, there may be danger of incurring the evils of a religion excessively practical. We know it is easy to predict disastrous consequences, and to deter from every thing great and worthy in its nature pictures of possible excesses and abuses. They are the lions in the way of duty and Christian enterprise; and it requires no great effort of imagination to see them, in the twilight of futurity, rear

ing their dreadful fronts, or lurking in ambush, even in the great high-ways of the Christian life. And it is, therefore, not strange, that any intimation of such dangers should awaken suspicion; and seem to some to be pouring water upon the fire of benevo lence, which has been kindled at so much expense. We disclaim all intentions of this kind. We desire not to see an enterprise of the churches relinquished; we wish them all God speed; we hope to see them multiplied, and carried on with new vigor, and enlisting every member of the Redeemer's kingdom on the earth.

And if it be true, as we have suggested, that unusual interest is felt in the controversies of the day, it is justified by the bold front and daring strides of error. Let the Davids of our generation go out to meet this Goliath, who is defying the armies of the living God; and let those armies stand by, and look on, and rejoice in the conflict and the triumph.

If the changes in men's tastes and habits of thinking have closed up the old avenues to their minds and hearts; let not such as would labor for their salvation resist the intimations of Providence, but let them search for other ways of conviction and persuasion. If the old language of divinity offends, let them seek out acceptable words; if the ancient forms of composition disgust, let them try others. If men will have biography, and narration, and periodical intelligence; spread out the lives of the saints; show them those of whom the world was not worthy; detail the processes of their conversion and sanctification, their trials, their toils, their failures, their successes, their labors of love and patience of hope. Let in the light of day upon the scenes of the closet; throw open the sanctuary of domestic life-the chamber, "where the good man meets his fate." Religion has nothing here to conceal; she will commend herself amid these scenes to the conscience and the heart. Piety will be nourished and animated by such disclosures.

Let imagination, also, lend her aid to the attractions of piety; let her create unreal scenes and unearthly characters, so be they offend not against the principles of the Gospel; ideal excellence may be usefully contemplated, and ideal scenes may impress important truths upon the mind. The very circumstance which has created the demand for such works-the increase of a taste for books, and the activity of the press, serve as securities, in a good degree, against the dangerous influence of their representations. Let our periodicals gather up intelligence, and paint the condition and changes of the world. These are among the great motives to duty. All these classes of composition, under the guidance of Christian discretion and pious feeling, may be made of incalculable benefit to the church. Let them, then, be cultivated; let genius task his rarest energies; let labor produce its most finished workmanship; let taste exhibit the delicate