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appeared so conspicuous in all his writings. His cotemporaries, who frequently heard him preach, have declared, that in the exposition of the Word of God, they never heard any man who could give such happy and judicious illustrations. Lecturing, or explaining a portion of the Scriptures, being, in his day, a constituent part of public worship, he was singularly felicitous in that mode of public instruction.

As a writer of sermons, he was truly original, composing entirely from the stores of his own clear and comprehensive mind. And so freely did he abound in such productions, that he composed for several of his less able brethren in the ministry, who preached to rigidly Calvinistic congregations. Nor did he fashion and accommodate these sermons to the supposed popular taste. With that unbending integrity which distinguished him, he never deviated even here, from the purity of the faith he professed. And in moments of more unreserved communication, he has declared to his particular friends, that his discourses were preached in six congregations on every Sabbath-day, of several of which, the ministers dare not be known to correspond with him, so exceedingly obnoxious was be to the Calvinistic party, at least dare not venture to hold with him any ecclesiastical communion.

In his public appearance as a minister of the Gospel, Mr. Cameron was singularly impressive. His lofty tone of expression, his energetic mode of address, the fluency and fervour of his language, the usual accompaniment of original conception, and the powerful sensibility with which he seemed to feel, when treating of matters peculiarly interesting and pathetic, rendered him a speaker whom few could hear without profound attention and irresistible emotion. Hence, he was greatly admired as a preacher, even by those who disapproved of his religious sentiments.

In his habits and manners, he was altogether primitive and simple, being studious in the extreme, and seldom, if ever, entering on the cares and concerns of the world. His circumstances, of course, were very limited. Yet the good providence of God never suffered him to be in absolute want; and there are many instances on record, which, while they bear testimony to his pure and estimable character, bespeak the truest feelings of Christian love on the part of his benefactors. To their disinterested

kindness he was chiefly indebted for those supplies of the comforts of life, which, in the ardour of his search after truth, and with which he discharged his ministerial duties, he had been altogether heedless of providing. It was not till shortly before his death, that he learned who his benefactors were, and then, no words can describe the glow of virtuous feeling, the heartfelt sensibility of gratitude that vibrated through his whole frame: it almost paralysed him; nor was it till relieved by a flood of tears, that he could give utterance to his overwhelming emotions.

In this manner did this primitive servant of God pass a long life, happy in the approbation of the wise and good, fearlessly preaching the genuine truth of religion, and exemplifying it in a spotless life and character. He died on the last day of December, in the year 1799, having been for forty-five years minister of the Presbyterian congregation of Dunluce.

Mr. Cameron was the author of several works of generally acknowledged merit, displaying at once a sound judgment, profound literary information, and a free and independent mind. It was shortly after the remarkable change in his religious sentiments, when a bitter temper of disputation had arisen in the Synod about subscription to the Westminster Confession of Faith, that, in the hope of allaying so unchristian a feeling, he published a pamphlet, entitled The Catholic Christian. This work, at the time, excited much attention, and was replied to by Mr. M'Dowel, then of Ballykelly, afterwards of Dublin. The result of the contest to the two gentlemen, was very different. For his defence of unconditional subscription, the one was rewarded with the title of Doctor of Divinity, while the abler man, the simple minister of Dunluce, was passed unnoticed and neglected. The next work which came from his pen, was The Messiah. Then followed another small volume, called Scripture Forms of Devotion, a work composed entirely in the language of Scripture. Another work on which he bestowed much pains, was The State of our First Parents in the Garden of Eden, impartially considered and compared with that of their posterity in the world. Besides these, he composed several others on subjects of most important interest, and which are said to have been truly admirable, but which from peculiar circumstances, particularly in the author's worldly concerns, never reached publicity. Of the number of these,

is his treatise on the doctrine of the Trinity, now shortly expected to make its first public appearance, and which, from the excitement that prevails at the present day respecting that much contested point, as well as from the internal evidence it bears of profound research and candid discrimination, will, it is presumed, be found to merit an attentive and dispassionate perusal.


Renunciation of 1 John v. 7.

MANY of our readers are probably aware of the very decisive language in which the Eclectic Review, some years since, rejected as spurious, the text above mentioned. We have now to add the disclaimer of another orthodox periodical, the Congregational Magazine. In a review of a work under the signature of Crito Cantabrigiensis, and commonly assigned to Dr. Turton, the recently appointed Regius Professor of Divinity in the University of Cambridge, the following observations occur:-" Since the ample discussions which, within the last fifty years, have been given to the disputed passage which forms a part of the 7th and 8th verses of the first Epistle of John, it would not have been an unreasonable assumption, that no man of competent information would have farther doubt of the spuriousness of that passage." After accounting for the introduction of the passage into the Sacred Scriptures, which is done by supposing the spurious words to have been a commentary on the adjoining text, placed, about the 4th century, in the margin of a MS. and subsequently transferred into the body of the Epistle, the reviewer adds, "By a weight of evidence, which it is no exaggeration to call a moral demonstration, it has of late years been generally rejected by those who have taken the pains of making themselves acquainted with the subject. We sincerely hope," he continues, "that an end will be put to the dregs of this controversy, by the wise, temperate, and powerful work before us. That the bishop of Salisbury should be convinced, is what we are far from expecting; but we cannot doubt that any other intelligent and upright reader will be so."

On Truth: a Fragment.


How bright the sun bursts from the orient wave!
How doth its light, careering, mount the sky,
And with a flood of mystic splendour, lave

Earth's unsearch'd, broad, and burning canopy!
How doth each fleecy cloud, to gifted eye,

Float like an airy islet of the bless'd! Till strains seraphic, stealing from on high,

Sweetly the spirit woo, with grief oppress'd,
By faith to realize its covenanted rest.


How doth the rising orb, with radiate fold,

Veil each bright form below! Each hoary steep, With purple robe, and diadem of gold,

Sits on its mighty throne! The eternal deep Smiles with the raptur'd glow, o'er which we weep When bending o'er the dead; the forests wave One glittering sea of light! The torrents leap

From crag to crag; and, with translucent tide, lave Each opposing barrier; then seek unfathom'd grave.



Night lifts her mantle grey, then flinging back
One scowling glance of hate, shrinks from the
Of day. With form immense, shadowy, and black,
Glides slowly from the world. Then opens every flower
Its dewy valves-rings every forest bower

With shrill-toned melody;-the enamell'd earth,
And azure wave-lake, glen, tree, rock, and tower,
And childhood's innocent, unprompted mirth,
With one united hail! welcome the glorious birth.


So bursts invigorate, from the womb of Time,

The light of Truth! So its refulgent beams, Scattering the clouds of error, ascending, climb

The horizon of the mind;—so richly teems The moral world beneath its genial gleams.

The mists of Superstition, touch'd by its power, Dissolve-nor frenzied imagery the dreams

Of zealots yield, which o'er the reason lower, Pollute the fount of joy-the milk of kindness sour.

What! shall the mind, through fear, its play restrain?
Barter for brute-like apathy, its birth-right
Thought? Its free ethereal essence stain,

For leave to crawl beneath the chilling night
Of Tyranny? Oh! shall its burning light,

Be stretch'd on some Procrustes bed of soul? And all its solemn breathings, pure and bright, Be measured by the miserable dole

Of spiritual might, beneath a Churchman's stole?

Go, view the captive's cell, (the dungeon's gloom
Sheds light for this,) how doth this mortal clay
Pine 'neath the thraldom of a living tomb,

And 'scape its fetters by a quick decay! What! shall the body wither, when a stay

Is laid upon its movement; and the mind, With all its dazzling energies, essay

To train its flight by nature unconfin'd,

To sweep the vault of Shame, where sun of Truth ne'er shined?

Ye shades of martyr'd saints! who did prefer
A gory bed, beneath the mountain sod,
To life inglorious-could aught deter

Ye from the open worship of your God,
In forms by conscience sanction'd? Did the rod
Of Persecution-heavy though it fell-
Teach you to cringe beneath a despot's nod?
And, for the privilege of slaves, to sell

That right, which, of itself, would make a Heaven of



Scotia! how dear to me, it were, to climb

Once more, thy craggy hills, with summits bare, And gaze on scenes hallow'd in olden time,

By stern and solemn deeds, wrought out so nobly there. Then, would the carbine flash, the sabre glare,

The heath its purple change for dye of red, And shouts of Zion's triumph rend the air;

Then, would the lone hills yield their honour'd dead, The spot by martyrs trod, re-echo to their tread!

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