same reason, that I prefer the following description of a ship, in a storm, which the Psalmist has made, before any other I have ever met with." "How much more comfortable, as well as rational, is this system of the Psalmist, than the pagan scheme in Virgil, and other poets, where one deity is represented as raising a storm, and another as laying it? Were we only to consider the sublime in this piece of poetry, what can be nobler than the idea it gives us of the Supreme Being, thus raising a tumult among the elements, and recovering them out of their confusion-thus troubling, and becalming nature?" SPEC. No. 489. Line 51. " They climb the heavens, they sink to the abyss."] It would be easy to accumulate passages expressing the same idea, from Virgil, Ovid, Lucan, &c. It is sufficient however to select one, at least as poetical as any that are omitted. Tolimur in cœlum curvato gurgite; et üidem Subducta, ad manes imos, descendimus undâ." VIRGIL, En. III. 564. "To heaven aloft on ridgy waves we ride, Then down to hell descend, when they divide." DRYDEN. Too little is here left to the imagination of the reader; the poet has thought it necessary to explain the cause of the ascent and descent, and by so doing, has detracted from the terror of the description. How inferior to the conciseness, the vehemence, the dignified simplicity of the sacred poet! Line 53. They reel and stagger."] In the following lines there is a more amplified, but less picturesque use of the same image. "Because of the prophets, my heart is broken within me, Violently shaken are all my bones : Lines 57, 58. "He maketh the tempest a calm."] This at once re minds us of that manifestation of divine power, which clearly evinced our blessed Lord to be indeed the same God celebrated by the Psalmist. I quote St. Mark's description, because it is exactly in the form and spirit of Hebrew poetry; while the parallel passages (Matt viii. 26, Luke viii. 24) are manifestly prosaic. Kai dieyepleis Taliunde Tw aveμw, Και είπε τη θαλασση, σιώπα, πε$ywoo. Και εκοπάσεν 8 ανεμος, And there was a great calm." This surely is matchless. Perhaps the following passage is the nearest approach to it, in any classical author. "Permitte divis cætera: qui simul HORAT. Od.ix. Lib. 1. "Then to the guardian powers divine, The cares of future life resign: For, when the warring winds arise, And o'er the fervid ocean sweep, They speak and Jo! the tempest dies, Unshaken stands the aged grove, On the smooth bosom of the deep. And feels the providence of Jove." FRANCIS. Lines 63, 64. "And let them exalt him."] Apply to this distich the * In this beautiful passage one cannot help lamenting that the effect is diminished by want of proper attention to the collocation of the words; a blemish the very reverse of the excellence which has been pointed out in the note on lines 17 and 18. Matters should have been so managed, that "Simul stravere" should have immediately preceded "Nec cupressi." As it is, we have "the winds warring with the fervid ocean" after the storm has been laid; and whilst this elemental conflict is raging, we are told that not even the sensitive mountain-ash is agitated. Horace, when he pleases, can arrange his terms far more judiciously. See ODE 28, Book I. lines 4-6. Therefore, as I live, Saith Jehovah of hosts, the God of Israel, And the children of Hammon as Gomorrah; ZEPHAN. ii. 9. Line 69. "He turneth the desert."] This beautiful imagery is finely expanded by Isaiah. I quote the passage from Bishop Lowth's version. "The poor and the needy seek for water and there is none; Their tongue is parched with thirst: I, Jehovah, will answer them; The God of Israel, I will not forsake them. I will open in the high places, rivers, And in the midst of the valleys, fountains. I will make the desert, a standing pool, And the dry ground, streams of water." ISAIAH xli. 17, 18. Lines 73-6.] This quatrain won derfully conveys the impression of alertness, alacrity, industrious cheerfulness, and increasing prosperity. The rapid succession of ideas; the happy selection of circumstances; and above all, the close connection of effect with cause, the pious refer ence of all these blessings to the bounty of the Supreme Benefactor; entitle this passage to rank very high, both in a poetical and moral view. It need not shrink from comparison with Virgil's celebrated picture of the bustle and activity that Eneas witnessed at young Carthage; into which, it must be observed, the poet introduces at least one feature, that could not have been viewed with complacency by Divine Providence. "Instant ardentes Tyrii; pars ducere maros, Molitique arcem, et manibus subvolvere saxa, Pars aptare locum tecto, et concludere sulco, Jora, nagistratusque legunt, sanctumque se See Matt. ii. 6. "And thou, Bethle hem, art by no means the least, &c." —that is, art assuredly the greatest. Line 79. "He poureth contempt, &c."] See Daniel iv. 24-33. Line 80. "Pathless waste."] The word in the original (♫ Tohu) is expressive of extreme desolation; it is the same used Gen. i. 2. in the description of primeval chaos. Bishop Lowth most justly observes, that the meaning and spirit of the images in Hebrew poetry, very frequently depend on a relationship, and, as it were, a familiarity, which certain words have contracted with certain things. See the conclusion of his eighth prælection. With respect to imagery drawn from the chaos, see particularly the Bishop's ninth Lecture, first four pages. He there most happily quotes Isaiah xxxiv. 11. "And he shall stretch over her the line of devastation, And the plummet of emptiness. .בהו and ,תהו The very words of the divine historian, Gen. i. 2. It may perhaps appear no fanciful conjecture, that these five quatrains have a connected, and chronologically progressive reference to sacred history; and it appears that the topics respectively close with the close of each stanza. The first, seems to refer to the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, which is actually introduced into the text of the Chaldee Paraphrast. The second, to the passage through the wilderness, and introduction to the promised land. The third, to the settlement, and growing prosperity of the Israelites when completely established in that land. The fourth, to their sufferings during the Babylonish captivity, with the divine retribution visited upon their oppressors. And the last, to their re-establishment in Judea. CHRIST. OBSERV. No. 97. J. J. FAMILY SERMONS, No. XIII. Mark i. 15.-Repent ye. WHEN John the Baptist came tó prepare mankind to receive the Messiah, the main subject of his "Repreaching was repentance; pent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand:" in other words, for the Gospel dispensation is about to commence. John having thus pre pared the way, Jesus of Nazareth at length began his ministry with declaring, that the kingdom, which John had told them of, was now come. "The time," saith he, "is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand." I am come to lay its foundations, and to settle it in the world. And having said this, he informed them of the duties they must perform, or rather of the qualifications they must possess, in order to their being admitted into this kingdom. One of these is the same of which John had told them, "Repent ye." The other was new to them," Believe the Gospel:" that is, believe the glad tidings which I bring of pardon and salvation through my blood. "Repent, and believe the Gospel." The first thing which our blessed Saviour here enjoins us to do, is to repent. This is the first command How which he ever laid upon us. much, then, doth it behove us to consider it with care, lest we should be mistaken as to its true meaning; especially as our Saviour hath not only commanded us to repent, but hath told us in the plainest terms, that "except we repent we shall all likewise perish." The word in the Greek, which is translated repentance, properly signifies a change of mind, and that from bad to good. It may also be understood to signify the recovery of the mind from infatuation or madness. And thus it is that our Saviour speaks of the repentance of the prodigal son: "He came to himself." He had been, as it were, B beside himself, but he had now come to his right mind. Repentance, therefore, is seated wholly within us. It is the recovery of the mind from its former sin and folly; from its distraction about worldly things, and its aversion to holiness and to God; to such a frame and disposition as are wholly averse from sin, and inclined only to God and goodness. It is that grace of the soul, by which, under a deep and affecting sense of the divine mercy, we are made to see, and bewail, and hate our sin; to turn wholly from sin unto God; and to resolve and endeavour to serve and obey him faithfully for the time to come. Bat to be more particular. 1. If we would obey this first command of our Saviour, our minds must be possessed with a deep sense, not only of the sinfulness of our nature, and of the innumerable sins of our past lives, but of the guilt which we have thereby contracted, and of the punishment to which we have made ourselves liable. It is not enough that we should in words acknowledge ourselves to be "miserable sinners :" we must feel ourselves to be so. We must feel not only that we are sinners in general, but we must be sensible of our particular breaches of the divine law; whether they are sins of ignorance and surprise, or sins wilfully and deliberately committed; whether they consist in the neglect of our duty, or in acts of rebellion against God; whether they are open or secret sins; sins in thought, as well as in word and in act. 2. When our sins have thus been marshalled before our eyes, and we reflect how grievously we have by them offended our gracious God, broken his righteous law, abused his mercies, and incurred his wrath, we should be affected with deep sorrow and hearty contrition. The sense of our ingratitude should press upon our spirits. The remem brance of our sins should be grievous unto us, and the burden of them so intolerable, that we should be ready to sink under it, but for the consideration of the mercies of that God, and the merits of that Saviour, against whom our sins have been committed. 3. Here, however, it may be proper to caution you against measuring the depth and sincerity of your sorrow for sin, by the outward expression of that sorrow. For it may, and often does happen, that the mind is overwhelmed with grief when there appear none of those outward signs which generally accompany it. We are not even to regard the acuteness of our feelings as a sure proof of our sincerity. Persons are differently affected in this respect, according to their bodily constitution. The only decisive proof that our sorrow is of the right sort is this; that we had rather suffer the severest affliction than wilfully commit the least sin. We must, therefore, not only see and bewail our sins: we must, also, hate and forsake them: we must be stedfastly resolved to sin no more: we must detest the very thought of what we know to be contrary to the law of God, and turn from it with abhorrence. Whatever comes short of this, how specious and plausible soever it may appear, is not true scriptural repentance. For true repentance consists in nothing less than a sincere forsaking of all known sin unto the utmost of our power. Both Scripture and experience prove to us that men may be convinced of their sins, and in some degree humbled for them, who yet do not truly repent: for remember that repentance is the changing of our minds from evil to good, from sin to holiness, from this world to God. And of this kind must be our repentance, if we would ever taste the happiness of heaven. We must not be content with being a little grieved now and then, with being affected, even to tears, for our sins if we would truly repent, we must hate and abandon our most beloved sins: we must be as averse from them as ever we were inclined to them before: for the very essence of true repentance consists in this; that our minds are taken off, as it were, from sin, and fixed on God. If, then, the view I have taken of this subject be just, it may follow, that a man may leave off the practice of many of those sins in which he formerly indulged, and yet not truly repent of them. Repentance, let it be remembered, has its place in the mind: unless that be changed, though there be a change in the outward life and conversation, there can be no true repentance. It will not necessarily follow, because we no longer commit outwardly certain sins, that those inward lusts and corruptions which gave birth to those sins, are at all mortified and subdued. How many motives, for example, may unite to deter a man from the outward commission of those sins of impurity to which he may formerly have been addicted, while his heart continues to be the seat of impure affections? Suppose, also, a person to have acquired a large fortune by dishonest means; it would surely be no proof of his repentance, that he had at length relinquished his dishonest practices. His heart may be still the same; and he may only want the same occasion, and the same temptation, as before, to lead him to commit again the same frauds. Let me, therefore, caution you against self-deceit in this matter; against believing that you have repented, when in truth you have not. For, however changed may be your outward conduct, unless your hearts be changed too, I should be unfaithful to your souls if I did not tell you that you have not repented at all. Your chief care, therefore, must be to get your hearts and affections changed and renewed: then the reformation of your liyes will follow of course. Do but cleanse the fountain, and the streams will soon run clear. I do not deny indeed, that one great step to inward purity, is to abstain outwardly from whatever is sinful; and I would most earnestly exhort you to this course. My object is not, as you will easily believe, to make you think lightly of outward sins, or of the importance of abstaining from them. My object is, to warn you against resting here; against stopping short in the work of reformation; against deluding yourself with the notion of your having completed the work of reformation, when in truth you have scarcely begun it. Never, therefore, fancy that you have repented of any sin, merely because you do not commit it now, as you used formerly to do: but rather consider which way your heart is inclined, and whether it is so changed that you hate and abhor the sin now, as much as ever you loved and desired it before, and that you would now be as much grieved, as you ever were pleased. to commit it. Until you experience such a change of heart as this, let no change in your outward conduct delude you into a belief that you have repented; for in fact you have not. But here it will be proper a little to qualify what I have said, although I feel that I shall be treading on tender ground. What I wish to observe is, that, in order to prove the sincerity of a man's repentance, it is not necessary that he should never fall into sin: for then, what man who ever lived could be proved to be a true penitent? While we continue in this imperfect state, subject to the assaults of the world, the flesh, and the devil, it is not to be wondered at, if we should sometimes be overcome by these enemies of our souls. But the true penitent, though he may be surprized into sin through inadvertency, or overpowered by the force of temptation, yet rests not in this state. His mind is set on God and holiness: with grief of heart he con |