visions of Ezekiel,) an originality, a vastness of conception, a depth and tenderness of feeling, and a touching simplicity in the mode of narration, which he who does not feel, must be made of no penetrable stuff.' There

is something in the character of Christ, (leaving religious faith quite out of the question,) of more sweetness and majesty, and more likely to work a change in the mind of man, by the contemplation of an idea alone, than any to be found in history, actual or feigned."

Personally speaking, I must confess myself jealous of the homage rendered to productions of human genius, unless similar, or rather preponderating homage be paid to that work" which has God for its author." I never, in my general reading, exceedingly admire any poetical thoughts or figures, any instances of noble feeling, or fine illustrations of character, without looking whether the pages of Scripture do not contain something similar. This habit I strongly recommend you to adopt. It will familiarize your mind with the minutiae of Scripture; heighten your

interest in its perusal, and your estimation of its worth; whilst, far more frequently than a careless reader can imagine, you will attain your immediate object. To those who search for beauties, as to those who search for truth, that verse may be applied-" Every one that seeketh findeth." Your favourite "Elements of Criticism" has one fault which, independent of every other, is sufficient to destroy my complacency towards the work. Instances of fine composition are selected from writers of all kinds, ancient and modern ;—they are applauded without limit, whilst not above half a dozen quotations are made from the Scriptures, and those accompanied with faint or dubious praise. I know that you are just now enraptured with Ossian, and I have no wish to disturb your delight in the bard of the clouds; only when you have admired Fingal to the utmost, and completed your enthusiasm with Revesden's engraving of him, let me beg you to examine the character of David, considered merely as one of the heroic race. Nay, I will go further, and say, that if you institute the comparison between

David and the Homeric chiefs, or with any recorded in classic and chivalrous history, or immortalized in romance and song, you will find none so perfect as a hero. Separate him altogether from the prophet and the saint, and regard him simply as a warrior who lived at a period when war was the occupation of life, and personal prowess was the sole distinction of character. And what do you find? You have realized romance at the outset, in the ruddy shepherd boy, called from his songs and his sheep to be anointed to a crown. You have the perfection of valour in his fearless combat with Goliath, and its simplicity in his unboasting conquest; whilst his minstrelsy in the court of Saul, his marriage with that monarch's daughter, the first and last days of his friendship with the princely Jonathan his chivalrous generosity of spirit in contrast with the cold, mean, settled hatred of his persecutor-these suggest a thousand. pictures to the heart and imagination. Examine him, then, in his wanderings, and in his subsequent prosperity as king of Israel;you will find the heroic traits still strong upon

his character. Observe his forbearance under injuries, which united with power to avenge them, was unexampled as opinions and manners were then constituted. Mark his readiness to acknowledge the merit of an opponent, proved by his expressions concerning Saul, Abner, and Ishbosheth; his recollection of kindness long since past-witness his embassy to Hanun;-his munificence of spirit and complete freedom from sordid selfishness-witness his law, that all who tarried by the stuff should share like those that went down to the battle;-his sending, out of his portion of the spoil of the Amalekites, presents to all among whom he "and his men were wont to haunt ;" and his anxiety to prevent Ittai the Gittite from joining him in his flight from Absalom, because he "was His refusal to a stranger and an exile."

drink the water, which the three mighty men prompted by his urgent desire, brake through the host of the Philistines to draw from the well of Bethlehem, is another fine instance of generous self-denial; finer even than that recorded of Sir Philip Sydney, because con

nected with noble contrition for his former

want of self-government. "He poured it out to the Lord, and said, My God forbid it me, that I should do this thing: shall I drink the blood of these men that have put their lives in jeopardy? for with the jeopardy of their lives they brought it. Therefore he would not drink it." Perhaps, however, the instance in which David manifested the loftiest spirit, that which combined in itself most of the elements of true greatness, was the kingly offering he made out of his own proper goods to the service of that temple he was forbidden to build, renouncing at the same moment all credit for his munificence. "Who am I, and what is my people, that we should be able to offer so willingly after this sort? for all things come of thee, and of thine own have we given thee." But David was not merely a "mighty man of valour;" he possessed qualities it was impossible any heathen could possess, and which were his, solely by virtue of his knowledge of the true God. It is this remarkable union of contrary endowments which renders his heroic