sible for them either to understand or enjoy it, would be persuaded to attend seriously and without prejudice, they would find it very suitable and excellent. Many persons, you know, speak against the Church, who know nothing of it; which is very childish and unfair. I was much struck with the repeated and fervent prayers for mercy and forgiveness.

S. And so am I every time I hear them. But did the congregation seem attentive?

C. Oh yes; and what pleased me most was, that they all made the answers to the minister; you know what I mean; for instance, when the minister says, "The Lord be with you," they all uttered, as if with one voice, "And with thy spirit."

S. Yes; those are called the Responses. I have met with many ignorant people, who thought it was very rude to join in them, and used to laugh at several pious old gentle men for it. You see, they thought the parish-clerk ought to do all, and the people to be silent. But you know such an opinion was very foolish, for the Prayer Book particularly mentions the people's joining. Whenever the clerk reads or sings, the people ought all to accompany

him.

tification by the merits of Christ alone; and the minister showed that this was the great doctrine of the Bible.

S. So it is, and a very comfortable doctrine too; for how could guilty and helpless man be justified by his own works? Why, you know, those very works which men call good, are not pleasing to God, unless they spring from faith in Christ., God requires the heart and the affections as well as the outward act.

C. The minister spoke much to that purpose; and what would have pleased you much, he proved all he said to be the doctrine of the Church of England. He exhorted us most earnestly to that holiness of heart and life, without which, he said, it was impossible to see the Lord, or to have any evidence of our possessing justifying faith. He cautioned us against trusting in a dead faith. He told us to judge of the tree by its fruits; and showed us how wicked it was to name the name of Christ, without departing from evil.

S. I am glad he said this; because I know several persons, who think that the doctrine of justification by the merits of our Lord Jesus Christ, leads men to neglect good works: but you know, the Apostle St. Paul was astonished at such a wicked thought, and answered"God forbid."

C. I am sure such preaching will never make men neglect good works, but rather abound in them.

S. You say very true; and if examples be wanted, I could point out twenty persons or more in my own neighbourhood, who were once drunkards, or swearers, or dishonest, or openly vicious in other respects, who, since they have embraced these doctrines, have led a new life, and are now among the most useful persons in the parish. Such examples are among the strongest proofs of the truth and unchangeableness of the Gospel. It suits men now as much as ever, and wherever it is embraced in sincerity, will produce as great effects as ever it did.

C. It will indeed. But how awful must be the case of those who profess to believe the Gospel, without knowing any thing of this spiritual renovation which the Bible represents as essential to salvation !

S. Awful indeed! May they, through divine grace, see their danger, before it be too late; and obtain that true faith which works by love, purifies the heart, and overcomes the world.

C. And may those who profess this faith, evidence it more and more by good works, and thus adorn the, doctrine of God their Saviour in all things.

S. I pray God they may.

Distresses in England.

From the last number of the Quarterly Review, not yet published here, we extract the following interesting display of the causes of the present distresses in England.

Peace was at length effected. This was a great and sudden change; and such a change, however desirable, however necessary, however beneficial at last, could not occur without much immediate inconvenience. It was not our military departments alone which were upon the war establishment, it was every branch of trade, and every kind of industry which was in any way connected with the war, or influenced by it. The ordnance, for instance, employed the founderies, the gunsmiths, &c. &c. these manufactories called upon the iron and brass works, and the furnaces kept the colliers in activity thus it was in every part of the great political machine, (the most complicated that ever existed,) wheel within wheel, and when one was checked, the obstruction was felt through all. The whole annual war expenditure, to the amount of not less than forty millions, was at once withdrawn from circulation. But public expenditure is like the fountaintree in the Indian paradise, which diffuses in fertilizing streams the vapours which it was created to collect and condense for the purpose of more beneficially returning and distributing them. A va cuum was inevitably produced by this sudden diminution, and the general dis location which ensued may not unaptly be compared to the settling of the ice upon a wide sheet of water: explosions are made and convulsions are seen on all sides; in one place the ruptured ice is

dislodged and lifted up, in another it sinks; sounds inexpressible by language, and wilder than the howlings of the wil derness, are emitted on every side; and thus the agitation continues for many hours, till the whole has found its level, and nature resumes in silence its ordinary course.

A like effect must always be occasion. ed by the transition from war to peace, different in degree according as the war has been more or less protracted, according to the scale on which it has been carried on. The transition from peace to

war, so infinitely deplorable in other respects, brings with it less disturbance to the trading concerns of the community; those merchants whose dealings lie with the enemy are ruined, and credit receives a sudden shock, but the effects are partial and transitory; and an increased activity produces an increased circulation, and on all sides a demand for labour. In the present case, many causes concurred to aggravate the emnied the return of peace. As the counbarrassment which unavoidably accompa try had never before been engaged in so momentous a contest, the expenditure had been greater than any country had ever before sustained, and the exertions of every kind greater than ever had been made before by any known nation. We were at one time cut off from foreign supplies of grain, and we had to feed large armies in an unproductive land. Extensive tracts of ground which had hitherto lain waste, were, therefore, at great ex. pense, but with the prospect of an adequate return, brought into cultivation in all parts of Great-Britain; on a sudden the question came upon us, at the return of peace, whether we were to open the ports, that provisions of every kind might become as cheap as possible for the good of the whole community, or whether the general good would not be better consulted by shutting them, and keeping up the price of agricultural produce, to save the agricultural interest from loss. Here was a question which at first sight appeared simple to every man, whether he saw the black or the white side of the shield, and as plain as his own direct personal interest; but it belongs to the metaphysics of political economy, and is in reality infinitely complicated and infinitely difficult. And this point was not mooted for the discussion of speculative men, to be considered at leisure, and dispassionately investigated in indifferent times; it was brought forward as a practical question of immediate vital impor tance, and debated with all the blind ve. hemence of private interest and popular prejudice. While the Corn Bill was in debate, the evil which the landholders deprecated was going on; and when the

bill was passed, the proposed remedy which had been solicited so eagerly, and so violently opposed, produced no perceptible effect in either way. The dislocation had taken place in the natural course of things, and in the natural course things found their level; but while they were finding it, great inconvenience arose, and widely extended distress. The agriculturists received a severe shock; the credit on which they used to rely was withdrawn, the markets fell, and ruin stared them in the face.

A set of miserable sciolists have maintained that selfishness is the foundation of all our virtues as well as of all our vices, the ruling passion and prime impulse of the best men as well as of the worst; there is therefore no other difference, upon this philosophy, between Epictetus and Tiberius, or Howard and Buonaparte, than that the one was a better calculator than the other. The opinion is not less execrable in morals than the principle itself is prejudicial when operating in ordinary life, whether as it regards individuals or communities. Heavy as the taxes were during the war, the rents of land were raised in more than an adequate proportion; a disposition too generally prevailed to exact from the tenant the largest possible sum.When the revulsion took place, the tenant was equally disposed to make his advantage of the landlord, and demanded a reduction not less exorbitant than the former advance. Each party in its turn endeavoured to profit to the uttermost by the unfavourable situation of the other: the standard of equity was disregarded. High rents, which were as much the consequence of moral as of political causes, of error as of circumstances, have had their share in producing the existing distress; and those landlords who had screwed them to the highest point, are the persons who now experience the most inconvenience; where the advance had been moderate, the tenants were able to withstand a temporary pressure. The manufacturing and commercial interests owe much of their embarrassment, in like manner, to the avidity with which immediate gain has been pursued. The iron trade, for instance, is one which has suffered most. Some years ago this was so lucrative a branch of business that great capitalists, and even men of rank, crowded into it; men who were actually rich, and who in other times would have believed themselves so, could not be contented with the safe and regular returns which their property would have yielded in land or in the funds, but for the sake of enormous profit risked it, making themselves dependent upon chances and circumstances which they could neither foresee nor control. The gain being in

proportion to the extent of the works while it was a lucrative concern, every man extended his works to the utmost; the possibility of producing more iron than might be required was not taken into the account; more therefore was produced than the country could consume, or than vent could be found for by exportation, and the trade was literally rained by its prosperity, as over-feeding brings on disease in the animal body, and death.

This, though the most striking instance which could be given, is not the only one; there are many articles with which the market both at home and abroad has been overstocked. For it must not be dissembled that both America and the continental nations have learnt to manufacture for themselves many things for which they had been accustomed to depend upon England. It is vain to imagine that improvements in machinery can for any length of time be confined to the country in which they are invented, and attempts to prevent manufacturers from emigrating by penal statutes, are not only oppressive, but inefficacious. Both men and machinery have found their way abroad; the manufacturing system has struck root there; we may perhaps find out new markets, (certainly neither enterprize nor activity will be wanting in the search,) but very many of the old ones are preoccupied, and must continue to be closed against us. There is no ultimate evil in this; on the contrary, it would be easy to show that great ultimate good must arise from it, both to ourselves, and to the general interests of mankind,—from which no nation can separate its own with impunity. But the unavoidable temporary consequences are disappointment and loss, with no inconsiderable degree of embarrassment and distress. While other countries have thus been learning to manufacture for themselves, (and this, it should be remembered, they would have done in peace as well as in war, and probably sooner in peace,) improvements have continually been made in our machinery at home, all tending to diminish the necessity for human labour,-here also is a great prospective good, and a great present evil; the good permanent, the evil only for a season. And still farther to lessen the demand for labour, when sufficient employment could not be found for adults, children have been taken from their mother's side, from the sports which should have invigorated their bodies, and the schools which should have disciplined their mind and given them at least the rudiments of morality and religion, to be worked night and day amid the filth and stench of manufactories, to the sacrifice of enjoyment, health, morals,-of all which distinguishes immortal man from brute

animals, and all which renders life-mere animal life-desirable! These coinciding causes have thrown upon the public a vast number of persons, able and willing to work, but unable to obtain occupation, and this at a time when the landed interest, on whom they are thrown, are least able to support the burden.

Review (abridged from the British Review) of A Series of Sacred Songs, Duetts, and Trios. The Words by Thomas Moore, Esq.

THE writer of sacred poetry must bring with him to the task, "a clean heart" and "a right spirit." To sing of heaven with rapture, he must think of it with holy joy; and to pour forth the sorrows of repentance in tender and touching strains, he must feel its actual vibrations on the strings of his heart, and recognise its transforming power throughout the whole interior

man.

Now we have no right to say that this gentleman, hitherto known by the significant appellation of Anacreon Moore, has not this deep infusion of piety which we have pronounced so requisite to the accomplishment of his new undertaking; but we venture to say, that, in our judgment, the specimens of sacred poetry which we have now before us, are not marked by that integrity of feeling, that simplicity of manner, and that spiritual unction, which we look for in the honest effusions of a devout mind. No live coal from the altar has yet touched the lips of the poet. The feverish dreams of carnal love still appear to cling to his imagination; nor has the Jordan in which he has immersed his Muse, so washed out the stains of her leprosy, as to qualify her to sing the glories of him who is a God of purity. In plain language, we do not think the poet has sufficiently felt the total irreconcilable opposition which separates the character of the amatory poetry, in which he has so long and so perniciously indulged, from that of the dialect and imagery which is suitable to the celebration of the ineffable JEHOVAH.

If some of the strains now offered to the public, in which the tears of the penitent are the subject, be sincere

emanations-and surely the trembling expectations that surround the soul of a self-convicted being, no one that knows himself to be naturally corrupt and morally accountable can describe without feeling, or assume as the mere subject of verse, in order that a fictitious pathos may be extracted from such awful verities-if, we say, these strains be sincere, Mr. Moore will cordially concur with us in pronouncing a severe sentence upon those of his productions which once classed him, even in the judgment of Lord Byron, among the "melodious advocates" of that to which we trust his genius will no more be degraded. Indeed we hear that undertakings worthy of his powers have now engaged the poet's pen; and as we think that pen, though it can never unwrite the mischief it has done, is as well able to make compensations to virtue as any of the present day, we rejoice in the hope which we are thus allowed to entertain, and of which the production before us is at least a favourable omen,that Mr. Moore is resolved, in what he proposes in future to write, to suffer no line to escape him which dying he will wish to blot."

66

One consequence very likely to result from this publication of Mr. Moore's we foresee with some uneasiness. The style of the composition, though professedly sacred, is such that the transition will be very easy from heaven to earth, from devotion to passion, from the visions of spiritual beatitude to images that inflame the senses and corrupt the heart. Mr. Moore's sacred and profane songs will be very apt to compose the promiscuous entertainment of the same evening. To a person sound religious feelings such an intermixture is very disgusting, and to a mind of incipient piety and vacillating zeal it is very dangerous.Where the creature and the Creator are celebrated in terms nearly commensurate, and treated almost with the same adoration, things are profanely approximated in idea, between which, in reality, the distance is infinite; and the ark and the idol stand side by side in the same temple. Be

of

fore the writer of the present work will be able to rise " to the height of this great argunent," it seems to us that a lustrum of purification will be necessary, during which the volume of inspiration must be studied for the sake of itself, whatever pleasure the devout mind may afterwards allow ably receive from the beauty of the poetry alone.

We do not always find religion in the poetry of him who finds poetry in religion. A sacred song is a poor thing unless it is grounded in original piety; it is poor and paltry as an imitation or a copy. To become religious poets, we must begin by being religious men. It would be almost as absurd to talk of the art of feeling religionsly as of writing religiously. A holy tact, a vital heat, a deep and conscious principle, a central feeling which diffuses round the soul the light of heavenly love, and happy trust, and devout gratitude, are the proper qualifications for composing hymns or sacred songs worthy of acceptance with him who himself is worthy to receive glory, and honour, and power from the saints in bliss.

We are not of opinion that a writer of sacred poetry chooses well in taking the Scriptures themselves for his model. Neither art nor genius can copy the language of inspiration. As well might the builders of the second temple have affected to represent the supernatural radiance which shone between the cherubim in the first. The harps of those holy ministrels that once sang the Messiah and his kingdom, the sorrows of the earthly and the triumphs of the heavenly Jerusalem, are mute and "hanged upon trees," far out of the reach of our sacred songsters. But although we can no longer sing the songs of Sion, though the timbrel of Miriam and the harp of David sound no more, and the Bridegroom of the Church, and the Captain of our salvation, can no longer be worthily celebrated, there is yet a simple, genuine style of sacred poetry, which is very attainable by minds in which good taste and scriptural knowledge are combined with a humble and spiritual frame of

thought. But in the "Sacred Songs" which are now before us, we discover too much of jingle, too much of arti fice, and too much of point, to be altogether satisfied. A certain strain after antithesis and refinement of expression has lowered what it was designed to elevate, and impoverished a subject, the majesty of which raises it almost above decoration. Yet there is a brilliancy in the failures of this poet which dazzles criticism and arrests its censures: and with the genius that he evidently possesses, we do not despair, if he will attend to our sober hints, of his writing more in correspondence with his subject, and more in earnest with God and his own soul. We do not charge him with writing what he does not feel, but we are sure that the transition from the themes in which he has been so long engaged, is too sudden to be without embarrassment from habits so foreign to his present employment. We will now lay before our readers what we esteem the best of these productions.