time previous to Mr. Robinson's death, the congregation at Cambridge had unhappily imbibed a similar spirit. In these circumstances, Mr. Hall, who had already acquired a high reputation as a preacher, was invited to preach for one month, and afterwards for a longer term. At length, in 1791, he was invited to take the pastoral charge, and readily accepted. The death of Mr. Hall's father, which occurred about this time, impressed his mind with feelings of peculiar solemnity in entering upon his new charge. Often had his affectionate parent urged him to avoid barren and profitless speculation, and the recollection of the precepts, as well as example, of his now glorified father, exerted a most salutary influence upon his mind. At this period particularly he renounced his belief in materialism, which he often declared he "buried in his father's grave."

His first sermon at Cambridge was on the doctrine of atonement, and its practical tendencies. Accustomed as the congregation had been to the worse than Socinian views of their late pastor, the subject selected was one which could not fail to give offence to many of the hearers. Immediately after the conclusion of the service," accordingly,

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one of the congregation, who had followed poor Mr. Robinson through all his changes of sentiment, went into the vestry and said, 'Mr. Hall, this preaching won't do for us; it will only suit a congregation of old women.'

Do you

mean my sermon, Sir, or the doctrine?' Your doctrine.' 'Why is it that the doctrine is fit only for old women?' 'Because it may suit the musings of people tottering upon the brink of the grave, and who are eagerly seeking comfort.' Thank you, Sir, for your concession. The doctrine will not suit people of any age unless it be true; and if it be true, it is not fitted for the old women alone, but is equally important at every age.'

The ministerial labours of Mr. Hall were becoming every day more successful, and the people increasing in attach

ment to evangelical truth, when unfortunately he was dragged into keen political discussion. The French Revolution, which occurred about this time, threw the minds of all classes of society into the most intense anxiety, and Mr. Hall was prevailed upon to take a prominent part, by the publication of his well-known " Apology for the Freedom of the Press." His political celebrity, however, soon led him to be classed by multitudes with the adherents of Dr. Priestley, and, more especially, as in the course of his first pamphlet he had pronounced a warm eulogium upon that noted individual. And yet, whatever might be Mr. Hall's personal respect for Dr. Priestley, no two individuals could be more opposed in religious sentiments. For Socinianism, Mr. Hall had the utmost horror, and could never speak of it but with detestation.

In his first pastoral duties, Mr. Hall was remarkably exemplary. For some years he visited every member of his church once a quarter. These were not calls but visits, and paid usually in the evening, that he might meet the whole assembled family. Among the lower classes, to make them quite at ease, he would sit down with them at supper, and that this might involve them in no extra expense, he took care that they should all know that he preferred a basin of milk. In visiting the poorer widows, it was his practice to carry tea and sugar with him, taking especial care that there should be more than was needed, and requesting permission to leave the remainder behind him. He persuaded the poorer members of his flock to form little meetings for reading, religious conversation, and prayer, going from house to house. These meetings he himself frequently attended.

While thus exerting himself for the benefit of his people, Mr. Hall was anxiously seeking also his own improvement. He devoted six and sometimes even eight hours a-day to reading. The classics, both Greek and Roman, engaged his peculiar attention, and his theological studies were conducted with

About this

the utmost ardour and zeal. time he commenced the study of the Hebrew language, which he had neglected at college, and such was his assiduity and diligence that he soon became a thorough proficient in it. His intellectual acquirements, however, he did not permit to entrench upon his devotional habits. His discourses, on the contrary, evinced a growing seriousness and spirituality of thought and feeling. His usefulness and popularity rapidly increased, and in 1791 it was found necessary to enlarge his place of worship, so as to accommodate two hundred more per

sons.

The usual effect of his discourses while at Cambridge is thus graphically described by his biographer, Dr. Gregory "From the commencement of his discourse an almost breathless silence prevailed, deeply impressive and solemnizing from its singular intenseness. Not a sound was heard but that of the preacher's voice-scarcely an eye but was fixed upon him—not a countenance that did not watch, and read, and interpret, as he surveyed them again and again with his rapid, everexcursive glance. As he advanced and increased in animation, five or six of the auditors would be seen to rise and lean forward over the front of their pews, still keeping their eyes upon him. Some new or striking sentiment or expression would, in a few minutes, cause others to rise in like manner; shortly afterwards still more, and so on, until, long before the close of the sermon, it often happened that a considerable portion of the congregation were seen standingevery eye directed to the preacher, yet now and then for a moment glancing from one to another, thus transmitting and reciprocating thought and feeling; Mr. Hall himself, though manifestly absorbed in his subject, conscious of the whole, receiving new animation from what he thus witnessed, reflecting it back upon those who were already alive to the inspiration, until all that were susceptible of thought and emotion

eemed wound up to the utmost limit of

elevation on earth-when he would close, and they reluctantly and slowly resume their seats."

In the beginning of the year 1799, Mr. Hall had the pleasure of enjoying for some time the society of his old friend, Sir James Mackintosh, and also the celebrated Dr. Parr, both of whom were on a visit at Cambridge.

About this time Mr. Hall, to counteract, if possible, the prevailing infidelity of the age, which had been matured by, if it did not originate in, the French Revolution, preached and published his celebrated sermon "On Infidelity," which soon raised his character both as a profound thinker and an elegant writer. His place of worship now became the resort of multitudes eager to listen to the pulpit instructions of a man of such high celebrity. Many of the members of the University were to be seen mingling with the crowd, and men of all classes vied with one another in extolling his extraordinary powers, both as a pulpit orator and as an author. His fame in the latter capacity received considerable enhancement by the publication of his sermon "On War," and that entitled "The Sentiments proper to the Present Crisis," both of which have always been regarded as highly finished productions."

No sooner, however, had this extraordinary man reached the summit of his fame than, in the inscrutable arrangements of Divine Providence, he experienced one of the most distressing calamities that can afflict humanity—a temporary derangement of the mind. During the greater part, nay, almost the whole of his life, Mr. Hall had been subject to a severe pain in his back, which often deprived him of rest, and depressed his spirits. This sore malady increased to an alarming extent in the early months of the year 1803, and by the advice of his physician he took a house at Shelford, a village about five miles from Cambridge. The change afforded a partial relief; but being deprived of the usual cheerful society which the town afforded, he devoted much of his time to

study. The effect of the severe mental exertion it is melancholy to think of. His brilliant intellect was for a time obscured; reason reeled, and he became insane. During this afflictive dispensation, which lasted for two months, his congregation evinced their sympathy in a way most creditable to themselves. They set on foot a subscription, which, with the aid of other friends, became sufficient to produce, besides a life annuity of one hundred pounds, a farther sum nearly equal vested in Government securities, the latter to be at his own disposal at death, each sum being properly vested in trustees.

After labouring for some months among his people on his recovery to mental health and vigour, symptoms of the same disorder began to show themselves anew, but by the judicious care and attention of his physicians he completely regained his former tranquillity and composure of mind. It was judged necessary, however, that in present circumstances he should resign his charge at Cambridge, and for a year at least give himself up to the enjoyment of retirement and ease. He accordingly tendered his resignation, and quitted a sphere of exertion in which he had been singularly useful for fifteen years.

In consequence of the two visitations of Divine Providence to which we have

just referred, Mr. Hall's mind appears to have become more than ever impressed with a sense of his entire dependence upon God; his habits were observed to be more devotional, and his exercises more fervent and more elevated. His own decided persuasion in fact was, that to the first of these attacks was to be referred the era of the complete renewal of his heart and affections. Under this persuasion, one of his first acts on regaining the full balance of his mental powers was to make a solemn dedication of himself to God-an act which he renewed every year on the recurrence of his birth-day. After spending some time in calm retirement and occasional study, combined with frequent exercise he gradually re

gained his bodily health and mental tranquillity, so as to preach occasionally in the villages around his residence in Leicestershire. At length he accepted an invitation to become the stated pastor of a small congregation assembling at a chapel in Harvey Lane, Leicester, formerly under the care of Dr. Carey, whose praise is in all the churches as a faithful and devoted missionary at Serampore. "The people," said he, in a letter to Dr. Ryland, "are a simple-hearted, affectionate, praying people, to whom I preach with more pleasure than to the more refined at Cambridge." Among this people he laboured with great comfort and remarkable success for nearly twenty years.

Shortly after entering upon his charge at Leicester, Mr. Hall united himself in marriage with a partner of whose piety, prudence, and affection he was accustomed to speak in the highest terms. Amid his bodily weaknesses and frequent perplexities she soothed, comforted, and encouraged him. His exertions not only among his own people, but in every good work, were indefatigable; and it was pleasing to perceive that they were highly appreciated. Every new work which issued from his pen raised still higher his celebrity as an author. Wherever he went to preach, crowded congregations hung upon his lips. Churchmen and Dissenters, men of all classes and of all opinions, flocked to hear one who was justly regarded as a most accomplished and elegant preacher. Whether at Leicester, at Cambridge, at Bristol, or in London, he was called to address overflowing congregations, and commonly of a very mixed character.

Mr. Hall's public duties were numerous and heavy, but he never permitted them to infringe upon his hours of private devotion. About the year 1812 he commenced the practice of setting apart one day in a month for special prayer and fasting. On these occasions he retired into his study immediately after the morning domestic worship, and remained there until the evening.

The death of Dr. Ryland in 1825 led to Mr. Hall's invitation to take the pastoral charge of the congregation at Broadmead, Bristol. After some months spent in anxious deliberation and prayer, he at length agreed to accept it. The separation between him and his people at Leicester was deeply affecting. It occurred on a sacramental Sabbath. He went through the ordinary public duties of the day with great composure, but at the sacramental service his feelings completely overcame him. He sat down, covered his face with his hands, and wept; the people, sharing in his distress, were also dissolved in tears.

Mr. Hall was in his sixty-second year when he removed to Bristol, the scene of his earliest, and destined also to be the scene of his last, ministerial labours. During the few years of his residence there the congregation rapidly increased, and he felt himself surrounded with every comfort. His happiness was also not a little promoted by the society of his distinguished friend, Mr. John Foster, in whose powerful mind he felt a kindred sympathy. But amid all his outward enjoyments, Mr. Hall still suffered from the complaint in his back which had been his constant companion through life. To this, as he advanced in years, was superadded a frequent spasmodic affection of the chest. For a time he sought relief in a change of scene and cessation from labour, but the favourable symptoms were of short duration. The disease made rapid inroads on his constitution, and it soon became but too apparent that his end was approaching. The paroxysms of pain in the chest became more frequent, as well as more But his faith and confidence in the Divine promises were unshaken. His mind was at perfect peace, trusting in the Lord.

severe.

The account of the closing scene of this great and good man is thus given by his medical attendant :

"In a very short time, and before I had reached home, I was summoned to behold the last agonising scene of this

great and extraordinary man. His difficulty of breathing had suddenly increased to a dreadful and final paroxysm. It seems this last paroxysm came on more gradually than was usual with those that preceded. Mr. Hall, finding his breathing becoming much worse, first rose more on his elbow, then raised his body, supporting himself with his hand, till the increasing agitation obliged him to rise completely on the sofa, and to place his feet in hot water-the usual means he resorted to for relief in every paroxysm. Mrs. Hall, observing a fixation of his eyes, and an unusual expression on his countenance, and indeed in his whole manner, became alarmed by the sudden impression that he was dying; and exclaimed in great agitation, "This can't be dying!' when he replied, 'It is death-it is death-death! the sufferings of this body!' Mrs. Hall then asking him, 'But are you comfortable in your mind?' he immediately answered, ‘Very comfortable-very comfortable;' and exclaimed, 'Come, Lord Jesus-Come.' He then hesitated, as if incapable of bringing out the last word; and one of his daughters, involuntarily as it were, anticipated him by saying, 'Quickly!' on which her departing father gave her a look expressive of the most complacent delight.

Oh

"On entering his room, I found him sitting on the sofa, surrounded by his lamenting family; with one foot in the hot water, and the other spasmodically grasping the edge of the bath; his frame waving in violent, almost spasmodic convulsive heavings, sufficiently indicative of the process of dissolution. I hastened, though despairingly, to administer such stimulants as might possibly avert the threatening termination of life; and as I sat by his side for this purpose, he threw his arm over my shoulders for support, with a look of evident satisfaction that I was near him. He said to me, I am dying; death is come at last; all will now be useless.' As I pressed upon him draughts of stimulants, he intimated that he would take them if I wished; but he believed

all was useless. On my asking him if he suffered much, he replied, Dreadfully.' The rapidly-increasing gasping soon overpowered his ability to swallow or to speak, except in monosyllables, few in number, which I could not collect; but whatever might be the degree of his suffering (and great it must have been), there was no failure in his mental vigour or composure. Indeed, so perfect was his consciousness, that in the midst of these last agonies, he intimated to me, very shortly before the close, with his accustomed courteousness, a fear lest he should fatigue me by his pressure; and when his family, one after another, gave way in despair, he followed them with

This

sympathizing looks as they were obliged to be conveyed from the room. was his last voluntary movement; for immediately a general convulsion seized him, and he quickly expired."

It is unnecessary to dwell upon the character of one who so long held a very high place in the estimation of the Christian community in England. His name is hallowed in the remembrance of multitudes; and whether we view him as a man, a scholar, a Christian, or a minister of the Gospel, we feel ourselves entitled to say that few men have earned a prouder, a more honourable, or more enduring reputation than

Robert Hall.

I SHALL Speak of the Reformation which has proceeded from Geneva. Calvin, besides his work in our city, received from God a universal task. His essential work was the new development of the Reformation, characterised by a tendency to bring into union all Evangelical Christians. Luther was the first to fire off the alarm gun. Farel and Zwingle had done the same. At their cries the nations had arisen from a sleep of centuries; they had flown to arms, but many had taken wrong ones. Some seized the Bible, others lighted faggots, others drew the sword; there was a great tumult, tremendous disorder. Then Calvin appearedcalm in the midst of this agitation, advancing firm and intrepid among the balls that were whizzing on the right and on the left; he was calm, because he took the infallible word of his heavenly Captain. Nothing disturbed the majesty, the serenity of his bearing. He fixed his eyes upon the combatants, and sought out the friends and enemies of the good cause. The divided leaders

had to be reconciled, and obedience to the Supreme Head was claimed from all. After the great Luther, the indefatigable Farel, the bold Zwingle, comes the conciliatory (moderateur) Calvin. Luther, Zwingle, Farel, hold the sword, Calvin holds the sceptre. What would have become of the Reformation without

this leader? Despotism would have destroyed the church. Calvin was like one of those salubrious winds which chase away the miasma, and after which some broken branches are perhaps found; but the air has been purified. This brings us back to the Alliance. The idea of the Alliance (which will always be greater than the Alliance itself) was embodied in Calvin. He wished to save the church by inward unity-unity in knowledge, as regards doctrine; unity in charity, as regards persons. you see, Calvin was not a piece of copper money, circulating through all hands, but a mine. What was the characteristic of Calvin's teaching at Geneva? The contrary of what generally imagined. It thought that he was harsh,

Thus,