society. Some observations we ventured on two of his sermons, published some time since in the Irish Pulpit, are true of this volume; but we think that the peculiarities we attributed to them are less prominent; while the same gentleness of spirit, the same devotedness of feeling, and the same copiousness and beauty of expression are conspicuous. We quote at random, in order to allow our readers to taste enough to induce them to purchase the volume, if indeed, in the well-merited demand, a copy is to be had :

"Is not this a sight that may well make angels wonder. And yet, perhaps, earth affords a sight yet more calculated to fill heaven with astonishment. It is man refusing to listen to a beseeching God; it is the creature turning a deaf ear to the entreaties of his Creator; it is the rebellious worm spurning the invitations of his imploring Sovereign; it is the sinner leaving the Saviour standing and knocking at the door of his heart, and not merely neglecting to open it, but keeping it fast closed against Him, and with cold contempt, or scornful pride, refusing to receive Him as his guest ; and then to think how this insult is aggravated, by the readiness with which the door of the heart is opened to every other guest, that knocks for admission there. First, the objects of our earthly love, all that have a just claim on our affections, knock at the door of the heart, and the door is at once opened, and they enter in and dwell there: then the world knocks, and the door is at once opened and the world comes with its train of lying vanities, and cheating promises, and disappointing hopes, and unsatisfying joys, and they enter into the heart, and dwell there; and then sin knocks, and the door is at once opened and sin comes with its train of polluting thoughts, and vile affections, and unhallowed tempers, and abominable lusts, and they all enter into the heart, and dwell there; and then Satan knocks, and the door is opened to him-and he comes with his train of impure and accursed spirits, and they all enter into the heart, and dwell there; and then Jesus comes, attended by a train of holy and heavenly tempers and affections, hopes and joys-He comes in His own glory, and His Father's glory, and the holy angels with Him, bearing in one hand a divinely-wrought robe of righteousness, and in the other a blood-bought crown of glory, and He stands at the door and knocks--but the door is not opened to Him! and He stands there day after day, waiting and knocking, but still the door is not opened; aye, that door which was opened at once to every other guest, from earth or hell, is kept closed-barred, as with bars of iron, against Him, and He is left there standing and knocking—and knocking, but knocking in vain! How justly has the human heart, in its natural state, been compared to the inn of Bethlehem, where every guest could find room, and every guest was welcome, except the Saviour of mankind! Really the view of human depravity here unfolded, is perfectly horrifying. To think that all claims on our affection are willingly recognized and responded to, except the claims of God; that all love manifested towards us is gratefully appreciated and returned, except the love of God; that He, who has literally loaded us with benefits, lavishing on us His loving kindnesses with more than the

fondest father's bounty, and watching over us incessantly with more than tenderest mother's care; that He who has not merely given us all our blessings, as gifts of His love, but even (oh! unspeakable gift) gave Himself for us to death-the death of the cross, to redeem us from eternal death, and exalt us to everlasting life; that He should look into our hearts, and there see that every benefactor is gratefully esteemed—except Himself; that the heart which glows so warmly towards all around who seek to win its affections, is cold as death towards Himself; that while the favour of the great ones of the earth is eagerly courted, His favour is contemptuously slighted; that while the overtures of an earthly monarch would be hailed with rapture, and a single smile would intoxicate the soul with joy, His offers are scornfully rejected, and His smile utterly despised; yea, that with thousands the society of the most abandoned characters, the companionship of the vilest thoughts, the fellowship of sin and Satan is preferred to fellowship with Himself; that, in fact, there is nothing so vile, so contemptible, so abominable, that is not by multitudes, (whom He sustains and supplies, amidst all their weaknesses and wants, with His own hand, and has redeemed with His own blood,) preferred to His service, and His blessing, and esteemed an abundant recompense for the loss of all the happiness, flowing from His favour on earth, and His presence in heaven. Oh! surely, there is in this a blackness of ingratitude-a baseness of heart—a degradation of taste—which brands man, while unrenewed by divine grace, a very monster; a hideous compound of pride and meanness; and makes the pretence to goodness of heart, or nobleness of mind, or excellence of character, not merely an unwarrantable boast, but a contemptuous denial of a Saviour's claims, a daring insult to Almighty God."

"If, then, you would look on death as a desirable object, habituate yourself, believer, to view it uniformly in one aspect-as the period of everlasting separation from sin; and everlasting union with Christ. When you think of the world into which death will introduce you, as one in which Jesus is, and sin is not, surely this presence of the Saviour, and absence of sin, will make death, as the means of admission into such a world, desirable, yea, delightful to contemplate. For what is it, believer, that has been your sorest trial, your deepest affliction, since first you felt the happiness of reconciliation with God, through the death of His dear Son? What has most embittered your sweetest enjoyments, and polluted your purest pleasures? What has most agonizingly constrained you to "groan, being burthened," and to cry out! "Oh! wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from this body of death?" Has it not been sin? Sin, that hateful, abominable, accursed thing, which turned paradise into a wilderness; and if it reigned uncontrolled, would make earth a hell. Oh! then, is it not enough to make you in love with death, to reflect, that the moment it has released your spirit from its prison-house of corruption-you shall bid an everlasting farewell to sin--and from that moment, shall not be defiled by one sinful desire; no, not even have to struggle with one sinful thought, throughout eternity. Believer, will not an eternity without sin be a happy eternity indeed ?"

We shall quote a passage from the last sermon, on a subject familiar to the author, "the Christian's release":

"I conjure you then, by all that is bright and blessed in that heaven, its everlasting songs of joy, and hallelujahs of thanksgiving; by all that is dark and dreadful in that hell, its everlasting shrieks of anguish, and wailings of despair; come, oh! come to that almighty Saviour whom you have so long rejected, but who is still willing and waiting to receive-pardon-sanctifyand save you! But come now. You have trifled with Him long enough.

Seek the Lord, while He may be found: call upon him while He is near: lest your day of grace be closed, before your day of life expires; and you learn, by your own experience, the import of those terrific words-whose dreadful meaning, a lost eternity can alone fully unfold, "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God-for our God is a consuming fire!" May God grant that none of you may know on earth, or in hell, what these words mean; but that you may all be enabled, by divine grace, so to walk in a Saviour's footsteps, and live to a Saviour's glory, so to rely upon His righteousness, and rejoice in His love, that when the angel of death shall be sent to summon you into His presence, you may welcome its approach with a calm and cheerful smile-and glancing with the eye of faith, from the cross where Jesus died to redeem you, up to the heaven where He is ready to receive you, while the dark valley of the shadow of death, through which you are about to pass, is irradiated with the light of His countenance, you may be enabled, with humble thankfulness and holy joy, to take up the language of the text, and exclaim, "Lord! now lettest Thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation !"

It was, perhaps, unnecessary to have extracted so much, as, probably, there are very few readers of the EXAMINER to whom our quotations will be unknown; but, with the book in our hands, we could not refrain marking our respect for their author, our pleasure at finding that the malady which has interrupted his ministerial labours, has not prevented him from being more generally useful than he could have been even in the pulpit, and congratulating him on the well-merited conviction he must have received of the high place which he holds with all whom he values, as devoted to the cause to which he has consecrated his time and talents, his energies and strength.

We are glad to perceive that the volume has already arrived at a third edition in a few weeks, an event unprecedented, we believe, in the annals of Irish publishing.

THOUGHTS ON FAITH.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE CHRISTIAN EXAMINER.

SIR, Christian philosophy does not embrace within its sacred limits a subject of greater interest than that of faith. Whether we consider the fundamental importance of the doctrine, the difficulties with which it is embarrassed, or the various opinions to which it has given rise-our attention is equally commanded. It is a happy circumstance, however, that a differ ence of opinion respecting the nature of this principle, may exist in the minds of those whose experience of its operations has been precisely similar; that a mental process, though diversely stated, and variously explained, may be yet identically the same; that conflicting hypotheses, and theories the most irreconcileable, imply no diversity in the phenomenon to be elucidated; that varying sentiments, and speculative differences, may have their foundation in feelings and experiences perfectly identical. Anatomists may variously explain, and differently account for, physical processes and corporeal agencies, to which all are equally subject and metaphysicians, who alike abstract, imagine, and conceive, may very variously describe these mental powers. it is with respect to the spiritual experiences of Christians. They may vary in their views, and differ in their statements, regarding religious feelings and operations, which are yet the same in all: and the faith of the man, who looks upon that quality simply as a real belief in the truths of Christianity, may in no respect differ from that of him who regards it as a distinct and separate faculty.

And so

A conviction of this truth, however, in no wise lessens the importance of correct views, and carefully-formed opinions. Truth upon these momentous subjects is of inestimable value. A diversity of opinion may indeed consist with an identity of actual experience: but he who, upon this plea, resigns himself to contented error, affords reason to question the reality of his piety, no less than the orthodoxy of his creed.

To one who carefully examines the influence and effects of faith upon the minds and actions of believers, and who, from its practical developements and actual operations, endeavours rightly to estimate that faculty whereby we apprehend invisible things; I think it will appear that one important fact connected with it has not met with the deserved attention. The fact to which I allude is, that it is the appointment of Divine wisdom, that the truths and the objects, which faith reveals, shall not act upon the human mind with a force or intensity, in any degree proportioned to their paramount importance; that the stupendous prospects which revelation opens to our view-the eternal enjoyments of heaven, and the never-ending miseries of the lost-that these considerations are not permitted by Providence to engross our thoughts, or absorb our interests, with a power or exclusiveness

in any degree commensurate with their surpassing magnitude. The truth of this position I shall endeavour to establish; and also consider the reasons of so wise and necessary an arrangement.

And, in the first place, I think it evident that, in point of fact, eternal things do not so powerfully operate on the human mind, as their own greatness, and the vital interests which connect us with them, might lead us a priori to expect. And here I do not take into consideration the great bulk of mankind, those who are utterly careless about religion, and indifferent to their everlasting interests; who exhibit the unparalleled anomaly, the moral paradox of rational beings, endowed with powers of deliberation, and decision, of choice, and consequent action, capable of being swayed by adequate incentives, of being incited by hope, and deterred by fear; in whose minds, nevertheless, motives the most overwhelming are powerless to excite to action, the most perfect happiness to produce the slightest desire, terrors the most appalling to raise even a transient alarm. But with respect to those who are not of this number, to whom faith has exhibited the all-important realities of another life, and whose lives are not a practical contradiction to their belief, how stands the case? Are their thoughts so much occupied, their attention so much engaged, their happiness and their sorrows so much influenced by the vast prospects which lie before them, as might reasonably be expected? Do those, to whom an assurance of future happiness has been vouchsafed, pass their lives in a state of extatic enjoyment, the consequence of this glorious anticipation? And, if not, how how is such a phenomenon explicable upon the ordinary principles of human nature? Shall a prospect of some paltry temporal advantage, an increase of fortune, of reputation, or of rank, be able to raise the drooping spirit, and fill the heart with gladness? And is it in consistency with this, is it a result of the same moral and intellectual conformation, that an assurance of happiness-happiness, boundless, endless, near at hand-shall fail of filling the heart with unceasing rapture, and expelling all grief and sadness from the breast? What shall time's perishing baubles elate our hearts with joy, and its as fleeting sorrows plunge us in the depths of misery; whilst an assurance of eternity's unfading bliss leaves one wish unsatisfied, one tear to wipe away? Are these things of a piece? Are causes, in these two cases, followed by proportionate effects? Do results, in these two instances, bear a corresponding relation to the sources from which they flow? If then we are compelled to answer these questions in the negative, my first proposition is thereby conceded, namely, that, in point of fact, eternal things do not so powerfully operate on the human mind, as their own greatness, and the vital interests which connect us with them, might lead us a priori to expect.

How then are we to account for this fact? I am of opinion that it is the result of a providential arrangement, rendered necessary by the circumstances of our present state; necessary in