temptations as seductive, and vice as prurient, as among numbers considered only as such. Nay, more, the activity which numbers bustling around will naturally inspire, may be considered as a much better preservative against vicious thoughts, than the intellectual idleness which solitude too often encourages. At the same time we admit, to the utmost extent which Mr. Alison could desire, the dangers of Edinburgh in particular. The number of young men, who flock together at the commencement of the Session, unbridled by any fear either of God or of man, must be productive of the most awful danger to the young and inexperienced, who may, perhaps must, be thrown into their society. Encouraged in the practice, nay even taught the principles of infidelity, every passion is let loose upon their souls, without warning, and without restraint. Crammed with the elements of superficial knowledge, armed with the jargon of metaphysical scepticism, they are sent into life coxcombs and atheists. The danger attending a young man at Edinburgh, arising from more sources than Mr. Alison has chosen to mention, is indeed alarming; we therefore highly commend the warning which the preacher has given against many of the temptations which environ his young congregation. This is a subject that might be considerably extended. His congregation should be warned against those who prostitute every talent with which God has in his bounty endowed them, in the service of atheism and infidelity; who by the brilliancy of their attainments, the charms of their conversation, and the plausibility of their sophistry, would first deceive, and then destroy. The Sermon upon the Education of the Poor, is an animated composition; the two next upon Instability and Stability of Character, excepting the close of the latter, are good moral essays, with little to recommend them but their elegance. The Sermons upon the Prodigal Son are of a different cast. The first of them cannot be read without the most lively interest. We shall present our read ers with its conclusion.

"And when he came to himself, he said, I will arise and go unto my father, and say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son."These words reveal the secret workings of every human heart. Whatever may have been the nature or the degree of our transgressions, it is in these words that the Spirit from above,' the holy Spirit that worketh unto salvation,' speaks unto us all. It says, ARISE,'-arise at once from sin and from wretchedness ;—from a condition foreign to your nature, and destructive of your hopes-from your slavery in a far country,' where there is only famine from heaven, and cruelty from men. Return to the home in which you were born, to that household where even the hired servants of your father have under his protecting arms, you may still bread enough and to spare;' and where, return to peace, to usefulness, and to hap piness.

"What are the purposes of these moral punishments in the administration of the Almighty, and what are the promises which the Gospel gives to genuine penitence, we shall afterwards have an opportunity of considering. In the mean. time, my brethren, let us pause, with seriousness, upon the history which we have now reviewed. It is the history (in some Wherever guilt begins, it begins like the degree or other), of every human soul. young man in the parable, with the abuse of the goods which the wisdom of the great Father of the universe hath divided

unto us; and whatever may be its course, it uniformly ends like his, in the con sciousness of moral want, and in the feeling of religious wretchedness.

"Let the young pause upon it; and while life is that far country' into which they are so willing to travel, let them consider well the example which is here presented in mercy to their inexperienced eye. Let them learn what it is to conceive all the goods which Providence be. stows upon them to be their own; and where it is to which the vain, and the arrogant, and the selfish mind must come, when it forgets alike the paternal hand which gave, and the beneficent purposes for which they were given.

"Let the gay, and the busy, and the active, pause in the midst of their career; selves whether their course resembles that and, in these hours at least, ask themwhich we have seen. If it does, if they too are waiting for their own base or selfish ends, the goods which were committed to their care, let them not hope that the laws of the Eternal will change for them.-Let them believe that there is one process alone which can purify the waters which are hastening to eternity;-and let them consider that it is only while the mind retains its strength, and the soul its vi

gour, that the prodigal child of nature can arise from the dust into which he has fallen, and retrace the journey which has separated him from his Father.

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-Upon this, and upon every congregation who are met in these solemn hours in the name of Jesus Christ, may the spirit of genuine repentance descend with healing upon its wings!'-May seasons as they pass, tell us that they are passing;-and may we all so employ them, that they may become to us the appointed time,'—that they may prove to us 'the day of salvation!"

Even here our readers will anticipate us in remarking a very important omission. Who shall reconcile man to his offended Maker? Who shall sanctify his repentance? Who shall intercede for his pardon? Mr. Alison has not told us, but the Gospel has. This omission is partially made up in the Sermon on Repentance before Heaven, which is an animated but somewhat too flowery a discourse. The Sermon which follows it, is a very rhetorical but a very unsatisfactory composition: it savours strongly of the French school of theological eloquence.

The last, and by far the best Discourse in the volume, treats upon the Ascension of our Lord. This is indeed a Christian sermon, and such a one as should be heard by a Christian congregation. The evidence of the event is well considered, the Scripture accounts are ably commented upon, and the reflections arising from it are forcibly drawn.

"2. There are other reflections of a moral nature which the present season is equally fitted to excite ;-and, in the contemplation of this great event, there are sentiments which must arise in every thoughtful mind, by which we may be made wiser and better.It is fitted, in the first view, to remind us of the impor tance of the human soul, and of the care of Heaven for its recovery and salvation. When we commemorate the birth of our Saviour, we are reminded of the Benevolence of the system of the Gospel, by which the day-spring arose upon a dark and a wretched world.'-When we commemorate his sufferings and death, we are reminded of that parental tenderness and loving-kindness which spared not his own Son' to redeem us from present and from future evil.-When we commemorate his Resurrection and Ascension, we are reminded of the greatness of this system.

In the loftiness of the person who is em ployed, we recognize the importance of the end he pursued. We tremble to think of the dread responsibility we incur by the magnitude of this mercy; and the first question our hearts suggest is that of the apostle,- What manner of men ought we to be for, whom' all this system of divine tenderness has been prepared and employed?

"The ascension of our Lord is, in another view, a perpetual proof to us of the certainty of our own immortality. It was not alone to confirm the faith of his followers, or to substantiate the truth of his be resisted, that the disappearance of our mission, by an evidence which could not

Lord from earth was thus conducted. It was, far more, we may believe, intended to show them the actual possibility of this mighty change;-to demonstrate to them that there were bodies celestial,' as well as bodies terrestrial;'-that it was the

weakness of man only which limited the power of God;-and that when he willed, the greatest and most astonishing events which the imagination of man could contemplate, could yet be performed with the ease and simplicity of the most ordinary occurrence. It was yet still farther intended, we may believe, to show them the duration of their own existence. He had suffered death, as they were all to do; but

he was again alive. In finishing his human course, he was beginning only a greater and a more exalted one; and, after having fulfilled the will of his Father, he was now to return into his bosom, and to be seated at his right hand for ever. They were to follow through the same path;in his history, they were to read their own; and, while they thus saw him triumphant over death, they were to see, as it were, the emblem of the great change which they were afterwards to experience, and the opening of that greater state of being into which that change was to conduct them. To such a conclusion, to such an evidence of the immortality of the mind of man, no other religion that ever appeared upon earth has pretended; and the Christian who contemplates it, cannot but feel, with new delight, the greatness of that dispensation into which he is admitted, and the foundation which it gives to the first and profoundest hopes of the human soul.

"3. In continuing this meditation, there is a third view of the subject which naturally opens upon our minds;-it is of the greatness of that state to which the human soul is finally destined. It is the command of the Apostle, that we should ever look unto Jesus as the Author and Finisher of our faith;' and in thus looking to him as having gone before us,' we best can understand and conceive the nature and character of those mansions

which he has prepared for those that love him.' At the hour of his ascension,

all that was bumble, all that was painful, all that was degrading in his human life, was passed. We see him rising above. the darkness of time, and the dust of mortality--we see him entering into a state of unmingled happiness and triumphant glory; we see him clothed with infinite authority, and the angel and the archangel bending their grateful heads before him; we see him, still more, entering into dominion' only to continue the system of mercy which he had begun,-inclining his eyes for ever upon that world which he came to save, breathing, through every age, the inspirations of that holy Spirit which proceedeth from him,-interceding with the Father for all the penitent and all the sorrowful,-and gathering, in progressive mercy, all that will come unto him, into the fold of eternal safety. Is it possible, my brethren, that we can contemplate this subject without feeling our minds purified at the same time they are exalted without feeling ourselves born for something greater and more permanent than the scenes of time can unfold? --without letting the poor passions and the sordid cares of mortality fall from our remembrance ?-without the prayer, 'that the same mind may be in us which was in Christ Jesus?'-without looking unto him,' with the ardent desire of following his steps,' and of one day being found worthy to stand before the Throne, and before him, for ever?"

That Mr. Alison is a sincere Christian, the last Sermon will leave us little reason to doubt; to what motive therefore we are to ascribe the omis

sion of all the high and leading doc trines of Christianity in the preceding Sermons, we are at a loss to say. Of the reconciliation of man to God through Christ, of his penal and vicarious sacrifice, of the lost state of the world without a Redeemer, of the ordinary power and means of grace, we scarcely find a hint in discourses upon subjects which are immediately connected with them. Mr. Alison does not surely think that these essential points of the Christian faith can be omitted without the most certain danger. He does not surely think, that even to the minds of children they may not be approximated with the utmost facility. He does not surely think that any exhortation, any eloquence, any pathos, can be effectual without them. It is from the omission of these high themes, that fanati

cism is indebted for its sway. Let manding sobriety of truth, and the them be proclaimed with all the comdisciples of enthusiasm will soon dwindle away,

That these Sermons, when delivered, must have had a very considerable effect upon their auditors, we can readily believe. We should be really concerned therefore, if any of the free remarks which we have thought it our duty to make, were to be construed into disrespect. We esteem Mr. Alison as a laborious and useful Minister in a very important situation; we know the fascinations by which the young are surrounded, and the allurements held forth to apostates from the Gospel. We congratulate, therefore, the rising youth in Edinburgh upon having such a minister as Mr. Alison; he is worthy of the brethren with whom he is associated, and of the good Bishop under whose jurisdiction he is placed. It is our hearty wish, that by the infusion of Christian vigour into his future compositions, the sphere of his utility may be extended, that his exhortations may be armed with strength, and his ministry blessed with

success.

CHARACTER of COWPER'S WRITINGS.

(From the British Review.) Cowper rose on the horizon of this lower world, which he hardly seemed to touch" at a very critical time, as well as under very pe

culiar circumstances. The last finish seemed exquisite refinement of Addison, the brilliant to have been given to English literature by the numbers of Pope, and the laborious but suc-. cessful effusions of Thomson and Akenside, Young hed exhausted all the efforts of an exuberant imagination, on every topic affecting by its morality, or elevating by its devotion. Nor had some less poets, less in bulk, but not in the essential qualities of that name, failed in the mean time to look back with a wistful eye to the simplicity of ancient days, which had been too long forsaken: and in the productions of sach men as Collins and Goldsmith, all appeared that could, it might be thought, safely appear of nature and feeling, where the taste of the publie had been previously formed to elaborate refinement.

At this crisis Cowper presented himself; and, not daunted by the great intellectual attainments of some, nor misguided by the artificial labours of others, under the conduct of an entirely free and independent genius of his own, struck into a new path, and adopted for himself a plan of sentiment and of diction, no less striking for its freshness and originality than engaging by its simplicity and feeling.

This circumstance of complete but unaffected novelty, so remarkable at such a time, has always appeared to us to be the exact mark by which the several compositions of Cowper are each in their way to be characterized to the English reader. He is surprised with something entirely and eminently harmonizing with the purest genius of his own tongue, and yet differing from all he has ever seen in it before. After all the various delineations of Cowper's style, attempted by the ablest as well as most congenial spirits, (and none in this respect more bonoured than Cowper,) the precise thing seems no farther definable than the flavour of some new and exquisite fruit. It is neither grape nor peach, nor pine-apple; nor is it compounded of all, or any thing, that we have before tasted. We must taste the production to know it. Cowper has certainly neither the learned nervosity of Milton, nor the compres sed vivacity of Pope, nor the measured fulness of Thomson, nor the soaring sublimity of Young, nor the descriptive energy of Dryden. Perhaps he may be said to approach nearest to Dryden, in the easy flow of his thoughts and his versification in rhyme; and in blank verse to Milton, in the skilful arrangement of words and correct enunciation of ideas. His lighter pieces remind us of the singular eas and felicitous conceptions of Prior: to the two last, it is evident from his works, he had paid attention; and Milton, in particular, of all others, a genius most in harmony with his own "better mind," has employed the pen of our interesting poet in translating some of his learned Latin compositions.

To a great scholar, as well as to a great general, not only vast capacities of mind, but also a well-strung bodily constitution, is necessary. The exploits of Wellington bespeak as well "the frame of adamant," as "the soul of fire." The varied attainments of Milton do no less. These are not to be considered all as "the pomp and prodigality of heaven;" if by this is meant the spontaneous effusions of a celestial inspiration. The midnight lamp had no less in early life prepared our great epic poet for his work, than afterwards the "celestial light, shining inwards," contributed to perfect it. Now of this preparatory work Cowper was from bodily constitution wholly incapable. Nor was he competent, as we shall soon see, to any very laboured or continuous effort of mind. He read, he wrote, he thought, he acted, he almost lived by fits and starts; and it was seldom, unfortunately, that the option was left to his genius, on the full sea afloat," to take the current as it served, or " lose his ventures."

But this, which has necessarily deprived his works of that great fulness and variety with which they might have been otherwise enriched, has served also to throw over them such an air of unaffected nature and genuine simplicity of feeling, as, perhaps, nothing else could have done. He has embodied the feelings of a most exquisite and refined sensibility in the happiest and most appropriate language. He has etched, as it were, his own mind upon paper. And whilst most other writers seem to draw from their imagination, or their memory, to depend on their inventive or their accumulative powers, he seems uniformly to draw from his heart alone.. Others have produced what they thought; Cowper what he felt. In the herd of poets we generally see only what they conceived; in him, what he as. We believe few think Homer a hero, be

cause he wrote the exploits of Achilles; or Virgil pious from his praise of "pious Eneas;" but every body will deem Cowper a Christian from having written the Task.

Nature and simplicity in the writings of Cowper were at a secure distance from coarseness or carelessness. He does not, it is true, often aim at fine passages. He does not give reins to his imagination, or pretend at every turn to hurry the reader and himself" beyond the flaming bounds of time and space." His measures fow easily and lightly with his subject. They aspire only to the level of the theme: and seldom either surpass or fall be low it. He is no lover of fine, high-sounding words. He is not afraid of giving plain ideas in a plain manner. Indeed one of the greatest and most inimitable merits of Cowper is the use which he makes of common words, with a perfect freedom from any thing low, inharmonious, or inelegant. His private communications prove to us that this style of perfect nature was not the effect of indolence or inattention, but was the result of much care, labour, and taste. Evidently a master in both kinds of verse, we believe him to have voluntarily rejected both the splendour of Pope in rhyme and the labours of Akenside in blank. With much skilful variety, and a certain native strength which will never escape the eye of a judicious critic, his versification and diction carry, notwithstanding, no appearance of elaborate perfection. They seem not to be the point on which either the poet dwelt himself or wished his reader to dwell. They seem rather intended to act as a transparent medium through which the main object may be seen with greater clearness. They exhibit to our mind the spirit of the gentleman, who wishes to attract more by his conversation than his dress, or of the judicious painter, who is more studious of the countenance than the drapery.

This felicity in Cowper's style gives the utmost variety and effect to his several composttions on all subjects. But our plan scarcely allows a general glance even at his poetic works. We cannot, however, help remarking the admirable adaptation of his style to his subject on all occasions, and the interest in consequence So universally excited in the breasts of his readers. In him, humour and feeling were exquisitely combined: like Garrick, in the picture of him by Reynolds, he was equally divided between the tragic and the comic Muse. Of country scenery and the works of nature he was a devout admirer: and we are never more at home with him, than when he conducts us

See two Letters to the Rev. W. Unwin, dated January 5, and January 17, 1782, strongly and curiously bearing upon this point. "To make verse speak the language of prose without being prosaic, to mar shal the words of it in such an order as they might naturally take in falling from the lips of an extempo rary speaker, yet without meanness; harmoniously, elegantly, and without seeming to displace a syllable for the sake of the rhyme, is one of the most arduous tasks of a poet." In the other letter, he distinctly prejers the style of Dryden to Pope; though to the latter he allows the credit of first-rate genius, notwithstanding his "laboured and mechanical exactness in making verses." Perhaps the following specimen, extracted from Cowper's translations of Madame Guyon, may show that he might have been an adept, if he had chu sen, in the mechanism of Pope.

Rocks, lofty mountains, caverns dark and deep,
And torrents raving down the ragged steep,
The fruitful vineyard, and the furrow'd plain,
That seems a rolling sea of golden grain.