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cleanseth us from all fin ;' only believe on the Lord Jesus Chrift, and all this is yours!

• Surely you are ready to say, “Lord, I believe, help thou my un-belief.' Encourage then, I pray you, by earnest prayes to the throne of divine grace, that God will further your desires more and more ; be restless in prayer, that you may have some comfortable token before you go hence and be no more seen, that

your

fins are washed away in the rich streams of mercy!

· Here is the blessing of the gospel, ţhat mercy triumphs over jurtice! Only let our triumph be safely founded, let us be made aç. quainted with the victorious Captain of our salvation ; let us not raise up the banners of triumph on presumption, nor drop them through defpondency:

• I hardly know what more to say to you; I cannot give you faith, for that is the gift of God; but whosoever fịnceşely petitions for it, will not be denied; and whoever has it, must be saved to all eternity!'

After having thus cheered them with hopes of salvation through faith in Christ, towards the close of his discourse he totally extinguishes every ray of hope, and dooms them to eternal perdition, in the following decisive words : ' And now, my poor

and miserable fellow-finners, what more shall I say to you? How Thall I bid you farewell to all eternity!' p. 104. We shall suppose that, after all his warm exhortations to trust and confidence in the merits of Christ, he himself despaired of the salvation of his hearers ; yet, was it proper, was it decent, was it not the excess of cruelty to tell them, by this extraordinary farewell, that they were to be eternally damned? If we take this puzzling dilemma by the other horn, the consequences lead equally to perdition ; for if we suppose that Dr. Barry thought the convicts were to be saved, and yet bade them an eternal farewell, as the Church of England admits no middle flate, we must conclude that he, at the time, believed he was not to be saved * In short, matters are so badly managed, that the damnation of the preacher or of the hearers, muft unavoidably be supposed. We dare say that the doctor, by his farewell to ail eternity, had no intention of leading to such a conclusion; but unluckily it is the only one that can follow from the premises.

As an orator, the present author is equally faulty. His en deavours to foar only render his weakness more conspicuous; we have feldom met with more unsuccessful attempts in the figurative and ornamental style. A few inftances will convince our

* This surely, at beft, was an imprudent avowal, and not likely to impress his 'audience with reverence for the preacher, or config dence in his doctrine,

readers

readers of the truth of what we advance. In his sermon on the sth of November he thus inveighs against popery:

• And though the poisonous venom of papal power and principle cannot at present thew its teeth, yet what shall hinder that combustible, that alarming matter, from re-fuppurating, and once more buriting forth ? For the principles of the Romis church are the fame, her documents the same, and human nature is the same. But thanks be to God that opportunity is not the same! For where pride is to be interelted, or ambition gratified, the secret language with too many is, like the husbandmen in the gospel, · Let us kill him, that the inheritance may be ours ;' let us wade through all, set every feeling that ought to dignify our nature at defiance, and with daring effrontery laugh at and insult the noblest sentiments of humanity, of virtue, and of justice! Such ambition is fo paltry, that what can you mention too mean for its attention, if for its gratification?.it will çringe to the dunghill, or it will dragoon the palace ; it will sacrifice a friend, a family, a kingdom, if the can but hector with ignominious triumph. To taste the poisoned hateful honey, ambition will suck it from the most pa nful thorn-from her fawning smilesadulation, and homage as your valsal, your servant, your flave, your friend, your martyr, your any thing. Nurse but her wishes, cherish but her hopes, and like the viper he will corrosively fting the very bosom which gave her heat. If the brilliancy of virtue in her most delightful attire ; if the bleeding tears of grief and humanity melting through every pore, and piercing every sense; if religion, gemmed round with all the dazzling enchanting stars of the purest heaven, should stand gazing one moment with silent horror at the unrelenting havock of pride and ambition ; even on these they would glut their inglorious revenge!'

In this extract we have the poisonous venom of papal power newing its teeth,' and in a moment this venom is transformed into combustible matter, which re-suppurates.' Venom personified

may have teeth, but the venom of papal power can have none; and we are well convinced that the suppuration of combustible matter is a new discovery, hitherto unknown to the greatest adepts in chernistry. In the concluding sentence of the extract, the author has ended as he began. As he gave teeth to the venom of papal power, he has bestowed eyes on the brilliancy of virtue, and on the bleeding tears of grief and hų.

manity'-the brilliancy of virtue in her most delightful at(tire--the bleeding tears of grief and humanity, melting through

every pore, and piercing every fenfe-stand gazing!'. But what is it that such an orator cannot perform? It is needless to proceed; almost every page discovers the want of taste and judgment of the author; we are told of feeing our Saviour through the windows of faith ;' of the Almighty sending his

thunder thunder to rattle the foundations of a prison ;' with a long et cetera of expressions which debase the sublimity of Chriltianity.

To have dwelt so long on a publication which might have been dismissed with much less ceremony, appears at first sight unnecessary; but when it is considered that, in examining with some attention the Sermons of Dr. Barry, we have been deciding on the merits of what is termed popular preaching, we trust that the intelligent public will not think our time has been totally misapplied

It would be unfair to the author not to give his advertisement for a benefice, which he has introduced in his • Address to the ? Reader :'

Haying thus much said, he begs here to make a serious propofition to patrons of church preferment.

• The author almost despairs of personal interest to secure him even a small living! With respect to his doctrine, and pretensions as a preacher, the world may form some idea from what he hath written in this book. Now, if patrons, in the disposal of their fayours, really consult the good of their fellow-creatures, and should fuch be convinced of the many advantages resulting to a parish in a clergyman thus fitted, he here pledges himself, that if honoured by an appointment as rector or vicar of any church, no matter the country nor the distance, that he will then, not only to the utmost of his power, faithfully and conscientiously discharge the sacred duties of his order, but will cheerfully be ready, at all times, to serve his poor parishioners with every poffible advice and attention, without gratuity or fee!

We have only now to conclude with informing the public that this work consists of twelve fermons, fix dedications, an address to the reader, a list of subscribers, and a tolerable head of the author.

Art. XI. The Village Curate; a Poem. Small 8vo. 45. sewed,

Johnson. London, 1788. WE

E are at a loss to characterise this eccentric poem. ' It is

grave and gay, folemn and ludicrous, descriptive, satirical, moral, critical,' &c. &c. The matter and manner are equally various, and often shock the reader by their discordancy. The writer has clothed himself in a garb made up of patches from the mantles of Thomson, Young, and Milton, in which he would have made a very decent appearance, had he not at the same time put on the galligasgins of the author of the Splendid

Shilling Shilling. But he has fairly told us that he will do as he pleases; and if he chooses to appear in masquerade we cannot

help it.

i

• I love my liberty; and if I sing,
Will sing to please myself, bound by no rule,

The subject of no law.' The Village Curate might have received any other title with equal propriety; for Alcanor, the curate, and his concerns, constitute a very inconsiderable part of the poem. It is in fact reflections on inanimate and animated nature, throughout the four seafons of the year, interspersed with whatever this discursive and desultory mule chose to appropriate as the went along.

Without farther remark as present, the author shall speak for himself. The following extract, in which Young seems to be the archetype in view, though the topic and thoughts are common-place, yet is not destitute of merit:

• Come hither, fool, that vainly think'it
Thine only is the art to plumb the depth
Of truth and wisdom. Tis a friend that calls,
And has some honest pity left for thee,
O thoughtless stubborn sceptic. Look abroad,
And tell me, shall we to blind chance ascribe
The fcene so various, fo fair, and good?
Shall we no farther search than sense will lead,
To find the admirable cause that fo delights
The eye and ear, and scatters all about
Ambrofial perfumes ? O! there is a hand
That operates unseen, and regulates
The vast machine we tread on. Yes, there is
Who first created the great world, a work
Of deep construction, complicately wrought,
Wheel within wheel; tho’’tis in vain we strive
To trace remote effects thro’ the thick maze
Of movements intricate, confus’d, and strange,
Up to the great Artificer that made
And guides the whole. What if we fee him not?
No more can we behold the busy soul
That animales ourselves. Man to himself
Is all a miracle. I cannot see
The latent caufe, yet fuch I know there is,
That gives the body motion, nor can tell
By what strange impulse 'tis the ready limb
Performs the purposes of will. How then
Shall thou or I, who cannot span ourselves
In this our narrow veffel, comprehend
The being of a God. Go to the shore,
Cart in thy slender angle, and draw out

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The huge Leviathan. Compress the deep,
And shut it

up

within the hollow round
Of the small hazel nut. Or freight the shell
Of snail or cockle, with the glorious fun,
And all the worlds that live upon his beams,
The goodly apparatus that rides round
The glowing axle-tree of heav'n. Then come,
And I will grant 'tis thine to scale the height
Of wisdom infinite, and comprehend
Secrets incomprehensible; to know
There is no God, and what the potent cause
That the revolving universe upholds,
And not requires a deity at hand.

· tell me not, most subtle disputant,
That I shall die, the wick of life consum'd,
And spite of all my hopes drop in the grave,
Never to rise again. Will the great God,
Who thus by annual miracle restores
The perilh'd year, and youth and beauty gives,
By resurrection strange, where none was alk’d,
Leave only man to be the scorn of time
And sport of death? Shall only he one spring,
One hasty summer, and one autumn see,
And then to winter irredeemable
Be doom'd, calt out, rejected, and despis'd ?
Tell me not so, or by thyself enjoy
The melancholy thought. Am 1 deceiv'd?
So let me be for ever. If I err,
It is an error sweet and lucrative.
For should not heav'n a farther course intend
Than the short race of life, I am at least
Thrice happier than thee, ill-boding fool,
Who striv'ft in vain the awful doom to fly
That I not fear. But I shall live again,
And still on that sweet hope shall my soul feed.
A medicine it is, that with a touch
Heals all the pains of life; a precious balm,
That makes the tooth of forrow venomless,
And of her hornet fting so keen disarms

Cruel Adversity.'
The extract that follows does credit both to the head and
heart of the author :

• O undeserving parent, that neglects
To train the infant boy to deeds humane.
See how his sports, his pastimes, deareft child,
Are all to be indulg'd, whether he choose
To whip his nurse, to lath the sleeping puppy,
Or pinch the tail of unoffending puss.
Go, catch the furly beetle, and suspend

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