thoughts, we can now scarcely look upon anything without perceiving its relation to him. Every organized natural body, in the provisions which it contains for its sustentation and propagation, testifies a care on the part of the Creator expressly directed to these purposes. We are on all sides surrounded by such bodies; examined in their parts, wonderfully curious; compared with one another, no less wonderfully diversified. So that the mind, as well as the eye, may either expatiate in variety and multitude, or fix itself down to the investigation of particular divisions of the science. And in either case it will rise up from its occupation, possessed by the subject in a very different manner, and with a very different degree of influence, from what a mere assent to any verbal proposition which can be formed concerning the existence of the Deity, at least that merely complying assent with which those about us are satisfied, and with which we are too apt to satisfy ourselves, will or can produce upon the thoughts. More especially may this difference be perceived in the degree of admiration and of awe with which the Divinity is regarded, when represented to the understanding by its own remarks, its own reflections, and its own reasonings, compared with what is excited by any language that can be used by others. The works of nature want only to be contemplated. When contemplated, they have everything in them which can astonish by their greatness; for of the vast scale of operation through which our discoveries carry us, at one end we see an intelligent power, arranging planetary systems, fixing, for instance, the trajectory of Saturn, or constructing a ring of a bundred thousand miles diameter, to surround his body, and be suspended like a magnificent arch over the heads of his inhabitants; and at the other bending a hooked tooth, concerting and providing an appropriate mechanism for the clasping and reclasping of the filaments of the feather of a humming-bird. We have proof, not only of both these works proceeding from an intelligent agent, but of their proceeding from the same agent; for, in the first place, we can trace an identity of plan, a connection of system, from Saturn to our own globe; and when arrived upon our globe, we can, in the second place, pursue the connection through all the organized, especially the animated bodies which it supports. We can observe marks of a common relation, as well to one another as to the elements of which their habitation is composed. Therefore, one mind hath planned, or at least hath prescribed a general plan for all these productions. One Being has been concerned in all. Natural Theology. PRAYER. We find our Lord resorting to prayer in his last extremity; and with an earnestness, I had almost said a vehemence of devotion, proportioned to the occasion. As soon as he came to the place, he bade his disciples pray. When he was at the place, he said unto them, Pray ye, that ye enter not into temptation. This did not content him: this was not enough for the state and sufferings of his mind. He parted even from them. He withdrew about a stone's cast, and kneeled down. Hear how his struggle in prayer is described! Three times he came to his disciples, and returned again to prayer: thrice he kneeled down at a distance from them, repeating the same words. Being in an agony, he prayed more earnestly: drops of sweat fell from his body, as if it had been great drops of blood: yet, in all this, throughout the whole scene, the constant conclusion of his prayer was, "not my will, but thine be done." It was the greatest occasion that ever was—and the earnestness of our Lord's prayer, the devotion of his soul, corresponded with it.-Scenes of deep distress await us all. It is in vain to expect to pass through the world without falling into them. But, whatever may be the fortune of our lives, one great extremity at least, the hour of approaching death, is certainly to be passed through. What ought then to occupy us? What can then support us?-Prayer. Prayer, with our blessed Lord, was a refuge from the storm: almost every word he uttered during that tremendous scene was prayer: prayer the most earnest, the most urgent; repeated, continued, proceeding from the recesses of the soul; private, solitary; prayer for deliverance; prayer for strength; above everything, prayer for resignation. Sermon viii. CHARACTER OF PAUL. Here then we have a man of liberal attainments, and, in other points, of sound judgment, who had addicted his life to the service of the gospel. We see him, in the prosecution of his purpose, travelling from country to country, enduring every species of hardship, encountering every extremity of danger, assaulted by the populace, punished by the magistrates, scourged, beat, stoned, left for dead; expecting, wherever he came, a renewal of the same treatment, and the same dangers; yet, when driven from one city, preaching in the next; spending his whole time in the employment, sacrificing to it his pleasures, his ease, his safety; persisting in this course to old age, unaltered by the experience of perverseness, ingratitude, prejudice, desertion; unsubdued by anxiety, want, labor, persecutions; unwearied by long confinement, undismayed by the prospect of death. Such was St. Paul. We have his letters in our hands; we have also a history purporting to be written by one of his fellow travellers, and appearing, by a comparison with these letters, certainly to have been written by some person well acquainted with the transactions of his life. From the letters, as well as from the history, we gather not only the account which we have stated of him, but that he was one out of many who acted and suffered in the same manner; and that of those who did so, several had been the companions of Christ's ministry, the ocular witnesses, or pretending to be such, of his miracles and of his resurrection. We moreover find this same person referring in his letters to his supernatural conversion, the particulars and accompanying circumstances of which are related in the history; and which accompanying circumstances, if all or any of them be true, render it impossible to have been a delusion. We also find him positively, and in appropriate terms, asserting that he himself worked miracles, strictly and properly so called, in support of the mission which he executed; the history, meanwhile, recording various passages of his ministry which come up to the extent of this assertion. The question is, whether falsehood was ever attested by evidence like this. Falsehoods, we know, have found their way into reports, into tradition, into books; but is an example to be met with of a man voluntarily undertaking a life of want and pain, of incessant fatigue, of continual peril; submitting to the loss of his home and country, to stripes and stoning, to tedious imprisonment, and the constant expectation of a violent death, for the sake of carrying about a story of what was false, and of what, if false, he must have known to be so? Conclusion of the Hora Paulina. ELIZABETH CARTER, 1717-1806. ELIZABETH CARTER, eldest daughter of the Rev. Nicholas Carter, D. D., was born at Deal, in Kent, on the 16th December, 1717. In her early years, she gave no promise of excelling in literature, and her father was quite dis couraged, and advised her to relinquish her studies; but intense and systematic application' soon met with its reward. In a few years, she acquired a very critical knowledge of Greek and Latin, and had made considerable proficiency in Hebrew, and, before her twenty-first year, she added the French, Spanish, and German to her other acquirements.2 But all these attainments she felt to be nothing without religion. Her earnest piety was the most decided feature of her character in her youth, and continued undiminished to the last moments of her life. Notwithstanding her laborious and severe studies, she found leisure for amusement, and for the display of a cheerful and ever gay disposition. Of dancing she was particularly fond, and entered with great vivacity and high spirits into all the innocent diversions of youth. She was fond of painting, and attained considerable excellence in the art; and, before her seventeenth year, she courted the Muses, by translating from the Greek the thirtieth ode of Anacreon; and the next year she sent two or three poetical effusions to the "Gentleman's Magazine." In 1739, she gave a translation from the French of the critique of Crousaz on "Pope's Essay on Man," and of Algarotti's "Explanation of Newton's Philosophy, for the Use of Ladies," which procured her a high reputation among the literati, both in England and on the Continent.3 In 1746, she wrote her "Ode to Wisdom," one of the most elegant and interesting of her poetical effusions. By this time, of course, her literary acquaintance was very extensive. Of these, Dr. Secker (afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury) was warmly attached to her, and was of great service to her in her literary pursuits; and Dr. Johnson was so struck with the depth and variety of her acquisitions, that he wrote a Greek epigram in her praise.1 "I talked of the difficulty of early rising. Dr. Johnson told me that the learned Mrs. Carter, at that period when she was eager in study, did not awake as early as she wished, and she therefore had a contrivance that, at a certain hour, her chamber light should burn a string, to which a heavy weight was suspended, which then fell with a strong, sudden noise: this roused her from sleep, and then she had no difficulty in getting up." Croker's Boswell, vol. vi. p. 310. 2 These acquirements were not made, as they never should be, at the expense of more feminine accomplishments. "Upon hearing a lady commended for her learning, Dr. Johnson said, A man is in general better pleased when he has a good dinner upon his table than when his wife talks Greek. My old friend, Mrs. Carter,' he added, 'could make a pudding as well as translate Epictetus from the Greek, and work a handkerchief as well as compose a poem. " Croker's Boswell, vol. ix. p. 129. She was highly complimented for this effort by a writer in the "Gentleman's Magazine, vol. ix. p. 322 : "Be thine the glory to have led the way, And beam'd on female minds fair science's ray; To meditate on themes sublime as these: The many paths of nature to explore, And boldly tread where none have reach'd before." In a letter to Cave, he says, "I have composed a Greek epigram to Eliza, and think she ought to be celebrated in as many different languages as Louis le Grand." Encouraged by the approbation of her intimate friend, Miss Talbot,' and of Dr. Secker, she commenced, in 1749, when in her thirty-second year, a translation of the writings of Epictetus. It was completed in 1756, and published in 1758, in one volume, quarto. About one thousand three hundred copies were printed, and she realized one thousand pounds as the pecuniary reward of her labors. But a reward of a much higher kind awaited her -the applause and the approval of the learned, the wise, and the good. Scholars were astonished that so difficult a Greek author should be translated with such accuracy, and elegance, and varied learning, by a woman; and Dr. Johnson is reported, in consequence, to have said, when a celebrated Greek scholar was spoken of: "Sir, he is the best Greek scholar in England, except Elizabeth Carter." In the year 1762, she was induced to publish a collection of her poems, in one small volume, which, before the close of the century, passed through five or six editions. The character of her poetry is such as might have been expected from the elegance of her classical learning, the purity of her moral principles, and her consistent piety. While, to high imagination, or to great creative power, she can lay no claim, her language is clear and Correct, her versification sweet and harmonious, and her sentiments all that the moralist or the Christian could wish-pure, dignified, devotional, and sometimes rising to the sublime. At this time her society was courted by the good and the learned every. where; but she never favored mere literary eminence, unless it were connected with purity of character. Without this, no talents, however brilliant, attracted her regard, or could be admitted into her social circle. What a change would soon be seen and felt throughout society, if every female had the firmness and moral courage to take this position, and to say to every known dissipated character what Henry V. said to Falstaff-"Not to come near our person by ten miles!" In the latter part of her life, Mrs. Carter began to feel heavily the devastation which death usually makes among the friends of those who are destined to long life. In 1768, Dr. Secker died; in 1770, her beloved companion, Miss Talbot ; in 1774, her venerable father, at the age of eighty-six; and, in 1800, her old and valued friend, Mrs. Montagu. She herself expired, with perfect calmness and resignation, on the morning of the 19th of February, 1806.2 Of Mrs. Carter's poems we have before spoken. Her chief original prose compositions were letters, and two numbers in the Rambler, No. 44 and No. 100. The former consists of an allegory, wherein religion and superstition are contrasted in a most admirable manner. 7 'See Compendium of English Literature, p. 566. |