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associations with Roman Catholics, of laxity of Protestant principles.' In this way, he remarks upon many of the dissenting ministers, and states that a majority of the congregational ministers in London are inoculated with the same theological heresy as Mr. Lynch,' and what that is, he shows to be the lowest Unitarianism; and he cites from a private correspondent in the Unitarian connexion, who not only claims Mr. Lynch as belonging virtually to the Unitarian body, but assumes that all the ministers who support Lynch are making decided approaches to Unitarian views,' and, 'I am happy to find,' he says 'that the Unitarian opinions I have formed are gradually working into the Independant body, and they are getting into closer connexion with our body, than they are probably aware of.' Of the ministers, Mr. Grant says, 'The conversion of souls is not sought. There is no appearance of earnestness on the part of the preacher, no indication of his being impressed with the paramount importance of his message. He does not reach the heart of his hearers, because he does not speak from the heart. The people go away just as they came. Instead, indeed,

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of retiring from the house of God better than they came,
they leave it worse than when they crossed its threshold.'
Again, he says, 'The inspiration of the Scriptures, if not ab-
solutely and explicitly denied, is explained away in such a
manner, as in reality to make it no inspiration at all..
All, in fact, which constitutes the essence of the gospel
scheme of salvation is ignored, if not repudiated. They
preach another gospel than the gospel of Christ; or, rather,
they preach no gospel at all.
One of the most
talented and best known of these semi-neological non-
conformists, once, in our hearing, characterised evangelical
preaching as mere cant!'

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This is a melancholy account of non-conformity, told in a masterly manner, and by one who is intimately acquainted with the whole system. We trust there is nothing so bad as this in the Church of England, although our Maurices and Jowitts and such like, are not much to be boasted of; yet, we may be very thankful for the many earnest minded and zealous clergymen which adorn our church in the present day. But above all, that we have a Liturgy which remains ever the same volume of evangelical truth and sober

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ness.

Let the private opinions of the preacher be what they may, he cannot alter or change the prayers, nor the faith which they embody; they have been the comfort and the consolation of many generations; and we faithfully trust that, notwithstanding the designs of evil disposed men, they are destined to be the vehicle of our childrens' devotions to the throne of grace to the latest generations. Therefore, we may conclude, in the words of a distinguished nobleman, in another cause:-Educate, educate, educate; teach the young mind of England to worship God in the beauty of holiness in the Church, and the rising generation will grow up like polished shafts in the Temple.

A NIGHT WITH BURNS.

W. C. P.

WE extract the following account of the poet Burns, from Gilfillans History of a Man. We have always been of opinion that Burns' misfortunes arose from disappointment and vanity, heightened and influenced by the accursed principles, imported into Britain from the French grand revolution. Had he been better used, he would have been a better man.

"The Rev. Dr. Andrew Thompson, 'the Luther of Scotland,' found Burns in a fine autumn afternoon, sitting over his black bowl, before the door of his house, surrounded by some farmers and gaugers, who seemed nearly dead, partly with drink, and partly with laughter, at Burns's jests. He himself, however, was quite sober; and, after dismissing his guests and having tea, took Thompson out to the red scaur above the Nith, which was his solitary and favourite walk. The corn was ripe; the river was full; the dying sun was glinting his last and best through the trees; it was a golden moment for the poetic heart,' and Burns got into his glory. He spoke of nature, and of his country, of love, of politics, and of poetry, till the large tears dropped from his eyes, and were 'mixed,' said Dr. T., on the ground with my own.' As the shades lengthened, and the sun went down, and the evening star appeared above Criffel, his tone became more deep and solemn. He talked of himself; deplored his errors; and hinted that pride and disappointment had had a large share in producing them, and that he regretted that after his first success he had not gone

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abroad. As he spoke of the aristocracy, their usage of him and of his country, he stamped fiercely on the ground, and the expression of his 'ardent eyes' became almost terrific and unearthly, as they shone amid the tender gloom of the autumnal twilight. He cried, 'There will be a day of reckoning yet, as sure as yon star is shining over Criffel. Ten Glencairns would save this Sodom, and there has only been one, and he's dead.' He alluded to his own life as hanging by a thread. He said he was tormented by headaches and palpitations of the heart, which his occasional use of spirits only increased. But, he added, 'I have had my day, and Scotland will remember me as long as she is Scotland still.' He then repeated, in deep, monotonous and mournful accents, the lines 'to Mary in Heaven,' which he had composed not long before. On returning to the house, there a new set of hero-and-toddyworshippers arrived; the black bowl was again produced, and Burns's mood was changed accordingly. He sang; he extemporised verses; he cracked jests thick as minute guns; he insisted on replenishing the bowl again and again; he threw out daring political and religious remarks; and altogether, like Cleopatra and her pearl, wasted intellect, wit, and genius, which might have served for years, in one night of lurid brilliance. Dr. Thompson left the next morning, and, except for a few minutes in the street of Dumfries, a year or two afterwards, saw the unhappy bard no more.

THANKSGIVING SERMON AT ST. STEPHEN'S, WALBROOK.

BY THE RECTOR, THE REV. DR. CROLY.

'And the cloud of the Lord was upon them by day, when they went out of the camp. And it came to pass, when the Ark set forward, that Moses said, Rise up, Lord, and let Thine enemies be scattered, and let them that hate Thee flee before Thee.

'And when it rested, he said, Return, O Lord, unto the many thousands of Israel.'-Numbers x. 34, &c.

By the command of the sovereign and of the Church, on this day the nation offers its thanksgiving to Almighty God for the blessing of peace.

The text gives the morning and evening benediction of the tribes of Israel in the march through the wilderness-brief

but powerful appeals to God; as we may conceive, echoed by the hymns and acclamations of the people. This was, perhaps, the most magnificent sight ever seen by man.-The march of three millions of men, not in the irregular and wandering movement of an Asiatic migration, but in the stately and disciplined advance of an army under their princes, with the banners of the tribes, and with the most splendid and sacred of all guides, the Ark with the pillar of cloud, the symbol of the divine presence, leading the way. But, we have a fuller evidence of the grandeur of this sight than any conception of ours, in its effect on the prophet of evil, Balaam.

When, in the midst of his sacrifices and sorceries, 'he took up his parable,' and said 'how goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy tabernacle, O Israel.' Then, in the glorious exuberance of inspired imagery, he compares their camp, spreading in the Oriental sunset, to all things of beauty, power and grandeur; to a scene of gardens refreshed by unfailing springs; to a valley planted with trees by the hand of Heaven; to a land fertilized by rebundant rivers; all images of singular delight in the burning plains of the East. Then, Israel is an unicorn in the tameless liberty of the desert; then a lion, which, even when crouching, no hunter dares to stir up; concluding this noble accumulation of attributes with the involuntary benediction-Blessed is he that blesseth thee, and cursed is he that curseth thee.'

This was the reluctant testimony of the prophet of evil to the blessing of God upon Israel.-The covenant by which the true religion was confided to the national charge, and made the pledge of the national prosperity.

Though the tenor of this discourse is ordered by the great event of the day, it will not allude to what are called the politics of the day. The pulpit has higher objects than those phantasms, so easily raised and so soon laid. It looks to the substance of things, and investigates by the light of Scripture, those principles on which depends the life of nations.

I shall even allude but slightly to the war. The past is in the grave; let it have the silence and the sanctity of the grave; or if we must traverse that scene of pride and sorrow, let it be only to draw from it the wisdom to be learned from the capacious and crowded tomb!

Every great event of nations has a moral, and, my solemn

impression is, that the results of the late war were intended to give the high moral of the wrath of the Almighty against unprovoked war.

The greatest military power of the world suddenly assailed the weakest. An army of a million of men, disciplined by a preparation of 40 years; two great fleets; a chain of fortresses furnished with all the appliances of modern science, one of them overawing the north, another forming the first pier of the bridge that was to reach to Constantinople; a network of family alliances cast over the Continent; and the almost vassalage of the two great military powers of Germany; a boundless territory, and a devoted population-forming a mass of force unequalled since the Roman empire. And this force had the still higher security of success to be derived from determination to a single object. The principle of Russia was aggression, its policy was aggression, the first pledge of every heir to the throne was fealty to the plans of Peter and Catherine-perpetual aggression. Turkey seemed in the jaws of ruin. Europe limited herself to remonstrance; even her most gallant councils exhibited a diseased passion for peace. What would have been thought of the statesman, who, but two years ago, would have hazarded the conjecture, that Russia would be utterly baffled within those two years? Yet what was the fact? In that war, Russia never gained a single battle! In spite of faults of inexperience on the part of the allies, of losses arising from the severity of the climate, from disease, and even from famine, Russia never gained a single battle; whether against the weak or the strong, whether against the unsupported Turk, or the allies, whether in the field, or in the siege, the banners of Russia were always trampled in her own blood. Is there a parallel to this in the history of war? The nature of war is casualty-victory today, its reverse to-morrow. It is the great game in which 'Chance sits arbiter of the prey;' the tide which no man can fix; the arrow that flieth by day, and finds the heart of wisdom and valour through its shield. There is but one solution of the problem; the judgment of the Lord upon unprovoked war. If we see in the history of Israel the instant infliction of national punishment for national crime, if we acknowledge the same Providence, acting by the same laws, we can thus account for the paralysis of the giant, in his

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