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friends of mercy are in exercise; and, with truth and holiness for their motto, while they labour at once to teach the descendants of Abraham the religion of Jesus of Nazareth-the great prophet announced by Moses-the Christ of God, according to His gospel, and also a trade whereby they may hereafter live honestly among men, they cry, "Who is on the Lord's side, who?" and individually say to their fellow Christians, "Is thine heart right, as my heart is with thy heart? If it be, give me thine hand." "Behold, the days come, saith the Lord, that I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel, and with the house of Judah; not according to the covenant that I made with their fathers, in the day that I took them by the hand, to bring them out of the land of Egypt: (which My covenant they brake, although I was an husband unto them, saith the Lord) but this shall be the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel: After those days, saith the Lord, I will put My law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts; and will be their God, and they shall be My people. And they shall teach no more every man his neighbour, and every man his brother, saying, Know the Lord for they shall all know Me, from the least of them unto the greatest of them, saith the Lord: for I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more."

On Sunday, August 14, I witnessed the baptism of another son of Abraham, at Somers' Chapel, by the Rev. T. I. Judkin, M. A., previous to the morning service therein. The Hebrew youth, who then publicly professed his faith in the great Redeemer, has been for some time, and now is, an inmate of the Hebrew institution, Camden-town: and having rendered himself useful, by an upright and correct discharge of the office of accountant therein, is much respected. He had many struggles with the enemy of souls, ere his faith became fixed, as to the divinity of Jesus Christ: but before the hallowing teachings of the Holy Ghost, his unbelief gradually melted away; and, previous to his baptism, he expressed himself in terms which left no doubt upon the minds of those who witnessed his initiation into the Christian church, that Christ was formed in him, the hope of glory.

This convert, in addition to his Jewish names, received the christian name of James. The second chapter of the Epistle of St. James, being the lesson for the day, was read and commented upon, at the Hebrew institution, Camden-town, on the Friday

evening previous to his baptism, during the weekly service, held on those evenings there on the beginning of the ancient Sabbath, and the impression upon the minds of all present was most solemn and affecting.

In order to present no obstacle to the inquiring Jew, on his entrance into the Hebrew institution, the Jewish sabbath has been, from the first, kept by the inmates, as well as the Christian sabbath: and, therefore, the superintendent causes the bell to be rung, in order to call the whole to attend a solemn service, at seven o'clock on every Friday evening, as the commence ment of that sabbath. After prayer, por tions of the psalms or prophets are sung or chanted in the Hebrew language; solemo prayer is then offered up to Jehovah; and the lessons for the day are read, throughout, in order. Every man having a bible before him, in the language which he un derstands, (for several of the inmates are foreigners, and do not understand the English language,) the superintendent reads the first verse; the person next to him, on the left, reads the second; and so on, in succession, until it becomes the superin tendent's turn to read again, and until the chapters are ended: every man reading in the language to which he is accustomed. Comments are then made upon these readings; doubts, suggested by the inmates, are solved by the teachers, and exhortations are delivered by them, arising out of the subjects treated upon; and translations are verbally made to those who do not understand English. Singing then recommences, in the Hebrew tongue, and the service is concluded with solemn prayer.

WM. COLDWEll. King Square, August 17, 1831.

CELESTIAL PHENOMENA. SEPT. 1831.

THE Sun enters the equinoctial sign Libra on the 23d, at 46 minutes past 7 in the evening, when the Autumnal quarter commences, and the days and nights are again of equal length in every part of the world. His semi-diameter on the 1st is 15 minutes 53 seconds and a tenth, and on the 25th, 15 minutes 59 seconds and 3 tenths.

The moon is new on the 6th, at 33 minutes past 8 in the morning; she enters her first quarter on the 14th, at 42 minutes past 4 in the morning; is full on the 21st, at 55 minutes past 9 in the evening; and enters her last quarter on the 28th, at 28 minutes past 4 in the afternoon. On the 11th, at 14 minutes 30 seconds past 8 in the evening, she is in conjunction with y

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SPOETRY****

Libræ, which is attended with an occultation at London.

The planet Mercury passes the Sun at his inferior conjunction on the 26th at 6 in the evening. Venus is still situated in the western hemisphere during the evenings of this month; she is stationary on the 17th near 63 Virginis. Mars is in conjunction with the Sun on the 24th, at 3 in the afternoon. The noble planet Jupiter is still a conspicuous and interesting object in the constellation of the Goat. There are ten visible eclipses of his satellites this month, namely, five emersions of the first, in the following order on the 4th at 42 minutes 1 second past 11 in the evening; on the 13th, at 6 minutes 23 seconds past 8 in the evening; on the 20th, at 1 minute 57 seconds past 10 in the evening; on the 27th, at 57 minutes 36 seconds past 11 in the evening; and on the 29th, at 26 minutes 29 seconds past 6 in the evening :-three emersions of the second on the 4th at 30 minutes 25 seconds past 1 in the morning; on the 21st, at 58 minutes, 31 seconds past 7oin the evening; and on the 28th, at 34 minutes past 10 in the evening; and an emersion of the third, on the 21st, at 13 minutes 22 seconds past 9 in the evening; also an immersion of the same satellite on the 28th at 41 minutes 29 seconds past 9 in the evening. Saturn is too near the Sun tos be visible this month. The Georgian planet is situated near 9 Capricorn, and to the west of Jupiter.

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I WOULD not at the sinner preach,

To irritate his latent pride;
Or, by an angry form of speech,
His failings, sins, and weakness chide.
In tender love, I will embalm
Reproof and pity where I can,
For love will always bear the palm,

It charms the heart, and melts the man.

I would not preach above his head,
To make him wonder at my wit;
Lest any leave the place unfed,
My labour'd style the cause of it:
Above him, let me always stand,
The teacher should excel the taught:
But not so technically grand,
As if his praise alone I sought.

I would not preach for mere display
Before the people, to express
How clever I can show away

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What, stand before my Maker Christ,^ »l> 201Ì
And hardly let the Lord be seen;
Aloft my own proud banner hoist,
And hide the cross behind a screen?
Nor would I preach beneath this par,
Show less of reading, zeal, and wit,
A novice at the critic's bar,
For pulpit mastership unfit;
In office high, in talent low,
Of every pew the sneer and jest,
And only like a fire-fly glow,
When I might shine a star confest.

Against them I would seldom preach,
A wounded spirit who can bear?
But rather heal with melting speech,
Than drive them onward to despair:
What, put the sinner on the rack!
And to the brink of madness urge,
As if my sermons stole the black
Of gloomy hell, a scorpion scourge?
I would not to amuse them strive,
With comicalities of style;
Or in the depth of humour dive,
To court a grin, or woo a smile :
The pulpit is a solemn place,
And no meridian for a joke;
In Paul 1 nothing witty trace,
Weighty were all the words he spoke.
I would not for the people shape
A course to soothe a curious ear,
Turn Proteus, scaramouch, or ape,
And round and round the compass veer.
Still I would seek to please and move
By every means within my power,
And candy harsher truth in love;
A crabbed priest is sure to sour.
To saint and sinner let me preach,
As one commission'd from above;
And, where the law has made a breach,
Repair it with the balm of love:
Like Moses, meek, like Jesus, mild,
And, dignified without offence,
Treat every sinner as a child
With tender-hearted eloquence.

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I hail thee, as thy mother's pride,
Thy father's lov'd one, too;
On high must swell joy's silver tide,
While thee their child they view.

If beauty's self could move the string,
Or rouse the tuneful choir,
Thy cherub charms the pow'r would bring,
The sons of song inspire.

Like a fair bud, of richest hue,

Of opening promise fair,

In truth thou art,-but, ab, as true
A worm may nestle there.

As sweet a plant as eye can see,-
Of such subduing pow'r;

As half t' induce idolatry,
May perish in an hour.

As softly breathes my lyre, to hail
With joy thy natal day;
It trembles, lest so fair a thing
Should lead the heart astray.
153.-VOL. XIII.

My handsome form and fine address: 2D. SERIES, No. 9.-VOL. I.

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A DEFINITION OF PATIENCE.

“ Τῇ θλίψει ὑπομένοντες.”—St. Paul. TALK ye of patience, resignation, faith, Firm courage, Christian fortitude, and hope? "Tis well to talk; but, better still to shew The power of these; when all are needful found: "Tis in the trying hour their strength is seen; Not in the seasons prosperous and gay, [hearts When smooth the path you tread; and all your Can wish is held in full enjoyment sweet; Yourself, a lovely wife, and children dear; All healthy, free from want or wo; and bright The animating prospects you behold; (What trial bere?) thus circumstanced, now You may have patience. Wanting still the proof! Let providential circumstances frown; Or sickness wither that delightful bloom So lately seen on lovely children gay; Let fell disease attack your bosom friend, Or agonizing pain your person seize ; Let death devour the lives of those yon love; And lay them prostrate in the silent tomb; Let health, beloved friends, and wealth depart, And leave us all alone: the seasons these, When patience may be seen in men of prayer. Not hardihood, insensibility,

Or sullen apathy-the stoic's pride:

No place have these within the patient soul.

A sensibility of pain acute,

Is quite essential to the perfect work

Of patience. There she triumphs; while she gives
Support, superior to affliction's power.

A patient man may weep, for "Jesus wept;"
And "groan'd in spirit;" heaving deep the sigh,
Which cloth'd his enemies with guilty shame.
While smarting under his chastising hand,
Of whose parental kindness we have proof.
To feel no sorrow,-careless then to be,-
Is like the senseless, sullen, stubborn boy,
Who, while his father smites, rebels the more.
A disposition so besotted, sure

Is far from Christian patience. We define
This soul-supporting grace to be,-a calm
Submission to the will of God, in want,-
A suffering keen afflictive pain, in faith,—
Resigning all we have to him, who rules
In wisdom infinite-whose goodness makes
Afflictions serve his
purposes of grace,

ON PRAYER.

WM. STONES.

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God alone can teach his children

By his Spirit how to pray;

Knows our wants, and gives the knowledge
What to ask, and what to say.

Why should men then manufacture
Books of prayer, to get them sold?
Sad delusion-strive to barter
Christ's prerogative for gold.

Where's the book, or school, or college,
That can teach a man to pray?
Words they give, from worldly knowledge;
"Learn of Christ, he is the way."
Why ask money from the people,
For these barren books of prayer?
Paper, ink, and words are in them,
But, alas! Christ is not there.
Those who seek shall surely find him,
Not in books, he reigns within;
Formal prayers can never reach him,
Neither can he dwell with sin.

Words are free as they are common,

Some in them have wondrous skill;
Saying "Lord" will never save them;
Those he loves who do his will.
Words may please the lofty fancy,
Music charm the listening ear,
Pompous sounds may please the giddy;
But is Christ the Saviour there?

Christ's the way, the path to heaven,
Life is ours, if him we know:
Those who can pray, he has taught them;
Those who can't, to him should go.
When a child wants food and raiment,

Why not ask his parent dear?
Ask in faith, then, God's our father;
He's at hand, and he will hear.
Prayer is an easy, simple duty,

"Tis the language of the soul;
Grace demands it; grace receives it ;
Grace must reign above the whole.
God requires not graceful postures,
Neither words arranged with form;
Such a faney presupposes,

That by words we God can charm.
God alone must be exalted;

Every earthly thought must fall; Such the prayer and praise triumphant, Then does God reign over all.

Every heart should be a temple;
God should dwell our souls within;
Every day should be a sabbath,
Every hour redeem'd from sin;
Every place, a place of worship;
Every time, a time of prayer;
Every sigh should rise to heaven;
Every wish should anchor there.

Heart-felt sighs and heaven-born wishes,
Or the poor uplifted eye,
All are prayers that God will answer;
They ascend his throne on high.
Spirit of prayer! be thou the portion
Of all those who wait in time;
Help us, shield us, lead us, guide us,
Thine the praise, the glory thine.

ON THE DEATH OF MRS, MARY TIGHE,
AUTHORESS OF THE POEM OF "PSYCHE."
FAIR flower! who, born to fade-and die ;
In nature's brightest bloom:

Thy smile-succeeded by a sigh,
Thy beauty-by the tomb.

So let me die, like thee, when pure;
Through sufferings long refiu'd:
So let me be, in Christ secure!
When death enshrouds my mind.

REVIEW.THE WORKS OF THE REV. ROBERT HALL

REVIEW.-The Entire Works of the Rev. Robert Hall, A. M. with a Brief Memoir of his Life, and a Critical Esti. mate of his Character and Writings. Published under the Superintendence of Olinthus Gregory, LL. D. F. R. A.Š. &c. Vol. I. Sermons, Charges, and Circular Letters, 8vo. pp. 524. Holdsworth and Ball. London, 1831.

THAT Robert Hall was one of the brightest luminaries of his age, no person acquainted with his character, talents, and writings, can for a moment doubt. To the body of Christians with whom he more immediately associated, he was a distinguished honour; to the christian name, he was a splendid ornament; and to the church at large, he has imparted a lustre which the lapse of centuries will not be able to tarnish.

During Mr. Hall's life, his publications were not numerous; but the intrinsic excellence of those which he could be induced to lay before the world, caused among his friends a sincere regret that they were not more diversified and more extended. No solicitations could, however, induce him to depart from his constitutional modesty, and at his death a general opinion prevailed, that the emanations of his richly stored and gigantic mind would cease for ever to illuminate the hemisphere from which he had taken a final departure.

We find, however, from a prospectus prefixed to this volume, that, from manuscripts which he has left, letters written to his friends, and discourses which have been taken down from his lips, together with a memoir of his life, and a critical estimate of his character and writings, six octavo volumes may be expected. These are announced to appear in the following order, Vol. I. Sermons, Charges, and Circular Letters. II. Tracts on Terms of Communion, and John's Baptism. III. Tracts chiefly political. IV. Reviews and miscellaneous pieces. V. Sermons from the author's own manuscripts, with a selection from his letters. VI. Sermons from notes taken while they were preached with memoirs of the life of the author, and a review of his writings. An accurate portrait of Mr. Hall is also promised to accompany one of these volumes.

Among the discourses which this first volume contains, are included Mr. Hall's celebrated sermon on "the Influence of Modern Infidelity;" "Reflections on War;" and a discourse on "the Death of her Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte." We select these by name from others which are less generally known, as

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master-pieces of the author's splendid talents, and unrivalled mental energies. Throughout all his discourses, charges, and circular letters, the vigorous working of the same powerful intellect is perceptible; but in those we have named, the expansion of his mind, the accuracy of his discriminations, and the acuteness of his reasonings,

shine forth in one continued blaze of unsullied lustre.

We well remember when "Modern Infidelity, considered with respect to its Influence on Society," first made its appearance, that a very powerful sensation was excited among various classes of readers. The friends of infidelity stood aghast, on beholding their dagon tumbled from his throne; while its foes rejoiced with no moderate share of exultation, at the triumphs which this production had achieved.

The following brief extracts can hardly fail to place this masterly performance in an auspicious light.

"The sceptical, or irreligious system, subverts the whole foundation of morals. It may be assumed as a maxim, that no person can be required to act contrary to his greatest good, or his highest interest, comprehensively viewed in relation to the whole duration of his being. It is often our duty to forego our own interest par

tially, to sacrifice a smaller pleasure for the sake of a greater, to incur a present evil in pursuit of a distant good of more consequence. In a word, to arbitrate among interfering claims of inclination, is the moral arithmetic of human life. But to risk the happiness of the whole duration of our being in any case whatever, were it possible, would be foolish; because the sacrifice must, by the nature of it, be so great as to preclude the possibility of compensation.

"As the present world, on sceptical principles, is the only place of recompense, whenever the practice of virtue fails to promise the greatest sum of present good, cases which often occur in reality, and much oftener in appearance, every motive to virtuous conduct is superseded; a deviation from rectitude becomes a part of wisdom; and should the path of virtue, in addition to this, be obstructed by disgrace, torment, or death, to persevere would be madness and folly, and a violation of the first and most essential law of nature. Virtue, on these principles, being in num. berless instances at war with self-preservation, never can, or ought, to become a fixed habit of the mind.

"The system of infidelity is not only incapable of arming virtue for great and trying occasions, but leaves it unsupported in the most ordinary occurrences. In vain will its advocates appeal to a moral sense, to benevolence and sympathy; for it is undeniable that these impulses may be overcome. In vain will they expatiate on the tranquillity and pleasure attendant on a virtuous' course for though you may remind the offender, that in disregarding them he has violated his nature, and that a conduct consistent with them is productive of much internal satisfaction; yet if he reply, that his taste is of a different sort, that there are other gratifications which he values more, and that every man must choose his own pleasures, the argument is at an end.

"Rewards and punishments, assigned by infi nite power, afford a palpable and pressing motive which can never be neglected, without renouncing the character of a rational creature: but tastes and relishes are not to be prescribed.

"A motive in which the reason of man shall

acquiesce, enforcing the practice of virtue at all times and seasons, enters into the very essence of moral obligation. Modern infidelity supplies no such motive: it is therefore essentially and infallibly a system of enervation, turpitude, and vice.

"This chasm in the construction of morals can only be supplied by the firm belief of a rewarding and avenging Deity, who binds duty and happiness, though they may seem distant, in an indissoluble chain; without which, whatever assumes

the name of virtue, is not a principle, but a feeling; not a determinate rule, but a fluctuating expedient, varying with the tastes of individuals, and changing with the scenes of life.-p. 22.

In ar

In a strain corresponding with that of the preceding passages, the author proceeds to the end of his discourse. gument he never languishes, in language he never becomes inelegant. Throughout nearly eighty pages, he pursues infidelity in all its windings, paradoxes, and retreats, assailing its principles in various forms, exposing the specious sophisms by which it imposes on mankind, and demonstrating its utter insufficiency to erect the standard of virtue, or to teach its votaries the nature and extent of moral obligation. A perusal of this admirable composition will fully justify these laudatory observations.

From Mr. Hall's discourse on the Death of the Princess Charlotte, it was our intention to have taken several quotations; but other claims admonish us that we must be content with his pathetic introduction to that melancholy event. Having eloquently adverted to the false confidence which worldly greatness and exalted station are calculated to inspire, he appeals, for a proof of the instability and insecurity attached to every thing here below, to the unexpected death of the Princess, which at that moment had drawn forth a nation's tears.

"Let them turn their eyes then for a moment, to this illustrious Princess; who, while she lived, concentred in herself whatever distinguishes the higher orders of society, and may now be considered as addressing them from the tomb.

"Born to inherit the most illustrious monarchy in the world, and united to the object of her choice, whose virtues amply justified her preference, she enjoyed (what is not always the privilege of rank) the highest connubial felicity, and had the prospect of combining all the tranquil enjoyments of private life with the splendour of a royal station. Placed on the summit of society, to her every eye was turned, in her every hope was centred, and nothing was wanting to complete her felicity, except perpetuity. To a grandeur of mind suited to her royal birth and lofty destination, she joined an exquisite taste for the beauties of nature, and the charms of retirement; where, far from the gaze of the multitude, and the frivolous agitations of fashionable life, she employed her hours in visiting, with her distinguished consort, the cottages of the poor, in improving her virtues, in perfecting her reason, and acquiring the knowledge best adapted to qualify her for the possession of power and the cares of empire. One thing only was wanting to render our satisfaction complete, in the prospect of the accession of such a princess: it was, that she might become the living mother of children.

The long-wished-for moment at length ar

rived but, alas! the event anticipated with such eagerness will form the most melancholy part of our history."-p. 337.

These prefatory observations are calcu. lated to awaken more than ordinary expectations. Nor are they awakened in vain. Throughout the subsequent parts of the discourse they are fully gratified. The dignity of the preacher's language, and the elevation of his thoughts, keep pace with the solemnity of the occasion; incessantly chaining the attention of his hearers, and allowing them no time to diminish the grandeur of his subject, by wandering into the doubtful regions of speculative anticipation.

The last discourse which this volume contains, has an immediate reference to the vicarious sacrifice of Christ, in which the innocent is considered as a substitute for the guilty. This doctrine has long been a stumbling-block to the wise of this world, and the source of a favourite objection with infidelity. The following will show the strength and manner in which Mr. Hall argues on this very momentous subject.

"That the voluntary substitution of an innocent person in the stead of the guilty, may be capable of answering the ends of justice, nothing seems more necessary, than that the substitute should be of equal consideration, at least, to the party in whose behalf he interposes. The interests sacrificed by the suffering party, should not be of less cost and valne than those which are secured by such a procedure.

"But the aggregate value of those interests must be supposed to be in some proportion to the rank and dignity of the party to which they belong. As a sacrifice to justice, the life of a peasant must, on this principle, be deemed a most inadequate substitute for that of a personage of the highest order. We would consider the requisitions of justice eluded, rather than satisfied, by such a commutation. It is on this ground, that St. Paul declares it to be impossible for the blood of bulls and of goats to take away sins; the intrinsic meanness of the brute creation being such, that a victim taken from thence could be of no consideration in the eyes of offended justice. They were qualified to exhibit, as he reminds us, a remembrance of sin every year, but are utterly unequal to the expiation of its guilt. In this view, the redemption of the human race seemed to be hopeless; and their escape from merited destruction, on any principles connected with law and justice, absolutely impossible. For where could an adequate substitute be found? Where, among the descendants of Adam, partakers of flesh and blood, could one be selected, of such pre-eminent dignity and worth, that his oblation of himself should be deemed a fit and proper equivalent to the whole race of man? to say nothing of the impossibility of finding there a spotless victim (and no other could be accepted.) Who is there that ever possessed that prodigious superiority in all the qualities which aggrandize their possessor, to every other member of the human family, which shall entitle him to be the representative, either in action or in suffering, of the whole human race? In order to be capable of becoming a victim, he must be invested with a frail and mortal nature; but the possession of such a nature reduces him to that equality with his brethren, that joint participation of meanness and infirmity, which totally disqualifies him for becoming a substitute. Here a dilemma presents itself, from which there seems no possibility of escape. If a man is left to encputer the

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