semble them, under the influence of superstition, in impure and sanguinary ceremonies, and persuaded them, that guilt could be expiated by the ritual of unmeaning devotion; or they have driven them from all the most sacred relations of life, into solitudes and deserts, and taught them, that the Deity was to be propitiated by the tears of unproductive repentance, or the dreams of visionary illumination. The conduct of our Lord, and the spirit of His religion, are very different-He assembles the multitude, indeed, around him, in the desert of human life, that he may teach them the end of that journey upon which they are going-that he may recall the wandering, and animate the desponding, and invigorate the "weary and the "heavy laden;"-and he points out to them, with no mortal hand, that continuing city to which they travel, where there are mansions for all the holy and the good, and where there "dwelleth knowledge, "and wisdom and joy." But when these mighty lessons are taught, he sends them away to their usual abodes and their usual occupations. He sends them back again to their own homes,-to that sacred though sequestered scene, where all their duties meet them on their return,-where every virtue and every vice of their nature takes its origin,-and where they can best display both the strength of their faith and the purity of their obedience. It is thus that the religion of Jesus blends the great interests of piety and of morality,that it lets down the golden chain which unites Earth with Heaven, and forms, even under the "tabernacles of clay," the minds that are afterwards "to be made perfect," and to be made citizens of a kingdom" which passeth not away, but which is eternal as the "Heavens." p. 117–121.' In the discourse on freedom of thought, after shewing that it is properly employed, when directed to the investigation of truth, but lamentably perverted, when employed as an end in itself,' for the purpose of attracting admiration and applause, Mr. Alison addresses the younger part of his audience in this impressive language. Such is then, my young friends, the plain answer to this important inquiry; and such the standard by which you can yourselves determine whether you are to be the servants of God, or the servants of the maliciousness of man. If, in these happy but eventful hours of education, you feel the genuine love of truth;-if, with the powers which are given you, you feel at the same time the mighty purpose for which they were given;-if, in generous ardour for the extension of knowledge and of happiness, you forget yourselves and the little vanity' of your hour ;-if, in short, you feel that opinions are valuable in your estimation, not because they are free, but because they are true, then go on, in the sight of God and of man, to the true honours of your moral and intellectual being. It is in this discipline you can acquire for yourselves permanent fame ;-it is thus that you can prepare yourselves to be the benefactors of mankind; it is thus that you can become the servants of God, and be the ministers of his benevolence to a lower world. But if it be otherwise, my young friends, if vanity and presumption have already seized upon your minds, fitted for better things; if, in the employment of the powers of thought, you look only to your own distinction, and care not for the ends for which they were given; if the name of genius has more influence upon your minds than the name of truth: if, in short, in your own bosoms you feel, that opinions are become valuable to you, not because they are true, but because they are free, pause, I beseech you, before you advance farther. You are hazarding every thing that is most dear to the mind of man ;-you are hazarding your fame, your usefulness, and your salvation;-and you are sacrificing, for the vanity of an hour, every thing for which every generous and noble mind lives, and would wish to live.' p. 288-290. The sermons on the Seasons may be considered as illustrations of the theory of beauty and sublimity which is unfolded in the Author's Essays on the Principles of Taste. The Preacher dwells on the reflections which the varying aspects of nature suggest to the contemplative and feeling mind; and the emotions in which they lead it to indulge. Of these sermons, that on Autumn is the most striking. The whole train of sentiment is in harmony with the character of the season. Having adverted to the gentle, soothing melancholy which Autumn tends to inspire, Mr. Alison thus proceeds: It is the peculiar character of the melancholy which such seasons excite, that it is general. It is not an individual remonstrance; it is not the harsh language of human wisdom, which too often insults, while it instructs us. When the winds of autumn siglt around us, their voice speaks not to us only, but to our kind; and the lesson they teach us is not that we alone decay, but that such also is the fate of all the generations of man- "They are the green leaves of "the tree of the desert, which perish, and are renewed." In such a sentiment there is a kind of sublimity mingled with its melancholy;-our tears fall, but they fall not for ourselves; and, although the train of our thoughts may have begun with the selfishness of our own concerns, we feel that, by the ministry of some mysterious power, they end in awakening our concern for every being that lives. Yet a few years, we think, and all that now bless, or all that now convulse humanity will also have perished. The mightiest pageantry of life will pass, the loudest notes of triumph or of conquest will be silent in the grave; the wicked, wherever active, will cease from troubling," and the weary, wherever suffering, will be at rest." Under an impression so profound, we feel our own hearts better. The cares, the animosities, the hatreds which society may have engendered, sink unperceived from our bosoms. In the general desolation of nature, we feel the littleness of our own passions; we look forward to that kindred evening which time must bring to all; we anticipate the graves of those we hate, as of those we love. Every unkind passion falls, with the leaves that fall -- around us; and we return slowly to our homes, and to the society which surrounds us, with the wish only to enlighten or to bless them." P. 329-331. It is the unvarying character of nature, amid all its scenes, to lead us at last to its Author; and it is for this final end that all its varieties have such dominion upon our minds. We are led by the appearances of spring to see His bounty; we are led by the splendours of summer to see His greatness. In the present hours, we are led to a higher sentiment; and, what is most remarkable, the very circumstances of melancholy are those which guide us most securely to put our trust in Him. We are witnessing the decay of the year; we go back in imagination, and find that such in every generation has been the fate of man ;-we look forward, and we see that to such ends all must come at last ;-we lift our de ponding eyes in search of comfort, and we see above us, One, "who is ever the same, and to whose years there is no end." Amid the vicissitudes of nature, we discover that central majesty in whom there " is no variableness nor shadow of turning." We feel that there is a God; and, from the tempestuous sea of life, we hail that polar star of nature, to which a sacred instinct had directed our eyes, and which burns with undecaying ray to lighten us among all the darkness of the deep.' p. 332, 333. The most eloquent, however, of these Discourses, are those which Mr. Alison delivered on days of public abasement, or of public exultation. Avoiding all reference to party politics, the preacher indulges in the warmest expressions of attachment to his country, and dilates in the tone of elevated confidence, on the wisdom and equity of Eternal Providence. The following passage is extracted from the discourse on the Fast of 1806. It is a cause in which the unchangeable laws of the Almighty are with us. The world has seen other conquerors and other despots. It has wept before the march of temporary ambition, and bled beneath the sword of transitory conquest. But nature has reassumed her rights; and while conquerors have sunk into an execrated grave, and tyrants have perished in the zenith of their power, the race of men have raised again their dejected heads, and peace, and order, and freedom have spread themselves throughout the world. Such, my brethren, will also be the termination of the tragedy of our day, and such is the confidence which they ought ever to maintain, upon whom "the Almighty hath lifted up the "light of his countenance." We are witnessing, indeed, the most tremendous spectacle which the theatre of nature has ever exhibited, of the pride and ambition of man. For years, our attention has been fixed upon that great and guilty country, which has been fertile in nothing but revolution, and from which, amid the clouds that cover it, we have seen at last that dark and shapeless form arise, which, like the vision that appalled the King of Babylon, "hath its "legs of iron, and its arms of brass." We have seen it extend its terrific shadow over every surrounding people, and the sinews of man to wither at its approach. We see it now collecting all its might, and thinking to change times, and laws, and speaking great words against the MOST HIGH. Yet, while our eye strains to measure its dimensions, and our ear shrinks at the threatening of its voice, let us survey it with the searching eye of the prophet, and we shall see, that its feet are of base and perishable clay. Amid all the terrors of its brightness, it has no foundation in the moral stability of justice. It is irradiated by no beam from Heaven,-it is blessed by no prayer of man,-it is worshipped with no gratitude of the patriot heart. It may remain for the time, or the times that are appointed it. But the awful hour is on the wing, when the universe will resound with its fall; and that sun which measures out, as with reluctance, the length of its impious reign, will one day pour his undecaying beams amid its ruins, and bring forth, from the earth which it has overshadowed, the promises of a greater spring.' pp. 270-272. The reader will have observed, as a slight deduction from the merit of these compositions, that the style, though elaborated into harmony and dignity, is not altogether free from blemishes: it wants ease and variety; it is sometimes verbose, satisfying the ear at the expense of the understanding. Sonorous epithets, which add little to the sense, such as lofty, sublime, magnificent, and especially, mighty, occur with wearisome frequency. We find the last epithet in combination with stage, compensation, object, obligation, scene, day, hour, time, language, tragedy, reward, preparation, prophecy, and a long catalogue of other words which seemed to require to be magnified. We have also 'ardent tears,' p. 429, and tears to be reapt,' p. 444. But these last are probably casual slips of the pen, which, in compositions of an inferior nature, we should have forborne to notice. We have hitherto considered these Discourses simply in the light of literary compositions, in which point of view, they certainly maintain high pretensions. But we should ill discharge the duty we owe to the public, were we to content ourselves with adjudging this praise to productions, of which the literary merit ought to constitute a very subordinate recommendation, and might possibly form only a subject of regret. It must have been felt as an objection to these sermous, from the perusal of the copious extracts we have given, that they are not sufficiently Christian. It must have been apparent that the strain of exhortation is altogether secular; the topics chiefly insisted upon, being fame, reputation, and interest; and that an efficacy is ascribed to the efforts of reason, and to the impressions of material nature, which is disproved by observation, and opposed to the declarations of inspired truth. But we must speak more freely. Mr. Alison sustains a highly important and responsible station in the Episcopal Church. He presents to us a com manding combination of character, as the Philosopher, and the Christian instructer; and his addresses, designedly adapted to persons of elevated rank and of proportionate influence in society, and to young men preparing to act distinguished parts in life, have been already cited as models, both of language and sentiment, by Journalists whose opinions have extensive currency. They have not scrupled to venture the assertion, that they know, in fact no sermon so pleasing, or so likely both 'to be popular and to do good to those who are pleased with 'them. And they close their panegyric, with a sentence which we are persuaded Mr. Alison himself, equally with ourselves, must contemn for its flippancy, as well as reprobate for the temerity of the insinuated comparison which it contains of the elegant Essayist, with a prelate of powers so vast, and of attainments so comprehensive, as were combined in the Bishop of St. Asaph. We will quote their words. It is a fine thing, we make no doubt, to compose a learned ' commentary on the prophet Hosea, or a profound dissertation on the intermediate state of the soul;-but we would prefer doing what Mr. Alison has done in the volume before us: ' and we cannot help envying the talents by which he has 'clothed so much wisdom in so much beauty-and made us find, in the same work, the highest gratifications of taste, and 'the noblest lessons of virtue.'-Edinb. Review, No. 46, p. 440. One would imagine that nothing but the consciousness of possessing that sort of credit with the public, that will procure for all the sentiments they may be pleased to utter, unhesitating acquiescence, could have reconciled them to the imbecile extravagance of this sweeping encomium. The defect in Mr. Alison's sermons to which we have alluded, is not of partial extent, nor of slight importance. It amounts, we are constrained to say, to a systematic exclusion of the grand peculiarities of the Christian system. It is an attempt-say his encomiasts, to lead us on to piety, through the purification ' of our taste, and the culture of our social affections-to found the 'love of God on the love of Nature and of man :' but we feel compelled to characterize it as an attempt to conduct the process of moral education and of religious instruction, with a careful avoidance of every principle, every motive, and every sanction, which is peculiar to the religion of Jesus Christ. We do not say that not a casual reference is made to any of the doctrines of Christianity, or that the name of the Son of God, as the Saviour of the World, is not occasionally introduced with becoming reverence. We do not mean to cast any imputation upon Mr. Alison's personal belief, or upon the purity of his design. But we must seriously submit to him, the consideration, whether, by the style of address which he has adopted in these |