6 himself left a strong expression in the words, with which, as we are told by his accomplished biographer, so soon united with him in an heavenly ministry, he closed his earthly labors in the pulpit of instruction.' It is the constant object of my wishes and prayers, and may it be the effect of my preaching, under the blessing of God to contribute to the formation of that noblest of characters, the Christian, whose love, as the apostle describes it, abounds more and more, in knowledge, and in all judgment; who approves the things that are excellent, and who remains sincere and without offence till the day of Christ.' Had it been possible, therefore, for his friends to have sought the sanction of their author for the publication of this volume, it would not, we are confident, have been witheld, desirous, as he was, above all, that his preaching should do good, and that, though these discourses might add nothing to a fame already preeminent, they might subserve a cause much dearer to his heart, the cause of evangelic piety and virtue. sermons. It has been thought, that Mr Buckminster was accustomed to avail himself freely of his reading in the composition of his And they, who are familiar with this class of publications, particularly with those of the most celebrated French preachers, may discover, as we have already intimated, resemblances or coincidences either of thought or method, that perhaps may be considered as some departure from the standard which public opinion, and the general practice of the clergy in this country, has made allowable. Upon this point, we may just remark, that, in whatever freedom of this kind Mr Buckminster thought proper to indulge, with the openness that was so natural to him, he was free to acknowledge it; and of this, his manuscripts furnish many examples. It is also highly probable,--such was the extent and variety of his reading, and such also the retentiveness of his memory, that he sometimes confounded his recollections of the thoughts of others with his own. conceptions. But even in those instances in which a resemblance may most clearly be perceived, as in the discourses on Faith in the former collection, bearing strong internal evidence of having been written after the perusal of sermons on the same topic, by Newcome Cappe,-the discriminating reader will at once perceive how little our author could have needed such extraneous help, and will scarcely fail to remark the superior energy of thought, richness of imagery, and fervor of eloquence, by which, remoulding it, as it were, in his own mind, he would exhibit in new forms of beauty and power, what in its naked conception or leading design he had not hesitated to adopt from another. This is a freedom, which they only who need depend on it least, will most skilfully employ. And who, that is competent to judge, will doubt that it is both lawful and wise, that the faithful preacher, who would furnish solid and various instruction, should sometimes enrich his own with the thoughts of others, and that to meet the incessant demands of preparation for the pulpit, the resources of a diligent reading should come in aid of painful excogitation and original production? Let a minister maintain in his discharge of this, as well as of all other duties, a high standard of excellence, tenderness of conscience, and an inviolable integrity. Let him frankly acknowledge, if need be, the sources of his borrowed treasures, whether new or old. He will scorn to accept praises, or to deck himself in honors, not his own; nor will he leave his friends, as did a celebrated preacher of days long since past,* to the perplexing inference, that he must have copied the sermon of a brother divine, and carelessly left it, with his own manuscripts, to the disposal of partial or unsuspecting executors, and, yet worse, to what under such circumstances could prove no other than the torturing ordeal of the press. For though not swift, as are some, to interpret Providence, we should be tempted to infer, that he who was left to a negligence like this, was suffering some portion of the infliction aforetime denominated by divines, judicial blindness. To no faithful minister can his weekly preparation for the instruction of his flock, be other than an anxious and arduous task. He will consecrate to it much of his time, and deem it worthy the exercise of his highest faculties. But the demands of the pulpit, as of the grave, are insatiable; and he must sometimes meet them amidst weakness and care and sorrow, when the head is sick and the heart is faint, when much must be done, and there is little time to do it. What forbids, under such circumstances, that he should mingle his own with the well digested meditations of others; or, in other words, make his people partakers of the fruits of his reading? Is he not thus in truth, and here we are supposing, of course, a diligent im *It is a singular fact, probably familiar to our readers, that the excellent sermon of Doddridge on the One Thing Needful, so often printed as a tract, was found in manuscript among the sermons of Whitefield, and ignorantly published with other works under the name of that popular missionary. 8 VOL. VII.-N. S. VOL. II. NO. I. provement of the light within, with a generous acknowledgement of what may be reflected from without-is he not more faithfully discharging his duty, and, beyond comparison, more profitable to his flock, than he could possibly be in a dull repetition of a few favorite topics, which have indeed some show of novelty from their appendage to different texts, but are of little efficacy to the satisfying of the hearer? For, alas! these texts themselves shall prove but as those little by-paths, diverging from the beaten road, which tempt the traveller with the hope of some verdant and refreshing scenery, but shortly bring him back to disappointment and weariness, amidst the same barren prospects, 'Where neither leaf nor fruit is seen, But all a dreary waste.' It is not, therefore, in the number of sermons merely, which may after all present little variety of thought or instruction, and require little effort, but in the wise selection and thorough prosecution of their subjects, that the fidelity, as well as resources of a minister, are seen. For both these essentials of good preaching was the author of these discourses distinguished. He brought to his pulpit the choicest fruits of his genius and various learning; of his glowing fancy, of his exquisite taste, and above all, his sanctified soul. By those who were familiar with his habits, we are told, that he wrote with rapidity, but with great intellectual toil.' And among the effects of his preaching, of which there are distinct and grateful recollections, we have been reminded by a friend, of the testimony of a late counsellor,* who, in the walks of his profession had attained to a fame scarcely less brilliant than his own, that the first impression he received of Christianity, to touch his heart, and to show him the beauty of holiness, was from the preaching of Mr Buckminster. It has been asked whether, had he lived, Mr Buckminster would have met the demands of the times, and maintained his unrivalled reputation. We have no reason to doubt, that had his faculties been spared him, he would have met the demands of any age, and contributed his wonted share to its progress. For his was a spirit formed for all times; born, not only to live, but to grow immortally. He had that within him, which would engage and sanctify all his labors, and en *Hon. Samuel Dexter, who for many years was a member of the Brattle Street Society. able him to triumph even over his infirmities. Among all his graces, nothing was more beautiful than the piety, which referred his whole lot and prospects to God, and the cheerful faith, with which, silently and meekly, he bore a malady that threatened for years the prostration of his reason. We should bless the Father of Spirits for the lights which he has kindled among us, reflecting in greater or inferior measure the lustre of his own truth and goodness; and we cannot cease to bless him, for having raised up, and continued even so long, a servant so richly gifted, whose exalted powers and attainments were all the ministers of his virtue, and who, by the splendor of his fame, and the ascendency of his character, could compel even the most frivolous and worldly to confess, that there must be something great and venerable, altogether lovely and desirable in a religion, which could command the faith, and engage the service, and so evidently sway the life of such a man. With ART. IV.-The Last Autumn at a Favorite Residence. other Poems. By MRS LAWRENCE. Second Edition. Liverpool. G. & J. Robinson. 1829. 12mo. pp. 160. A GREAT deal of sweet and quiet poetry, like that contained in the above named volume, is published in England, and never read, or even heard of here. This fact is sufficient to prove that the present age is a poetical one, and even more so than those which have preceded it. Waller, celebrated as he was, produced no poetry so good as much which now comes to us by accident, without fame, and without pretension. As for Duke, and Spratt, and several others of their rank, to whom Dr Johnson has given an immortality in his Lives, which they would never have gained for themselves, George IV. might say of them, with a little adaptation of the words of his ancient predecessor, stout King Henry,' 6 'I trust I have within my realm Five hundred as good as they.' Of course we shall not be understood to speak in disparagement of the masters of poetry who lived in former times, and whom we hold in deep reverence. But one poet does not make a poetical age; and we say that volumes on volumes of poetry are now published, which, without being of the highest order of excellence, are so good and so numerous, as to mark the present age as more poetical than the last. Mrs Lawrence's little book is characterized by those qualities which we like to see, because of their appropriateness, in the poetry of a woman,—by sweetness, tenderness, and holy feeling. The principal piece, which occupies, however, but twenty pages of the volume, the last Autumn at a Favorite Residence, reminds us strongly of the Pleasures of Memory. There is the same calm, religious, twilight atmosphere about it, which hangs over the more finished production of Rogers. Mrs Lawrence's poem opens with some pretty stanzas, in which she bids farewell to the flowers which her own hands had planted, and the scenes which had witnessed all her joys and griefs. Many images of past happiness are recalled and described as the poem proceeds. What mother's heart will not be touched with this? "-" And here he dwelt!-amid these bowers, Whose shrubs perfume the lawn; The happy birds' wild minstrelsy Awoke him here at dawn!" Pure as the blush which morning wears, ! Ne'er matched that eye's bright sparkling blue: Where the pale pink more pallid grows, 'T was here, secure from sorrow's blast, |