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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,

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, be sa unto them, Pray ye, that ye enter not into temptation. This dil not content him: this was not enough for the state and suffering of his mind. He parted even from them. He withdrew about a stone's cast, and kneeled down. Hear how his struggle in praye! is described! Three times he came to his disciples, and returned again to prayer: thrice he kneeled down at a distance from then, 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 sebe, the constant conclusion of his prayer was, “not my will

, but this be done.” It was the greatest occasion that ever was—and the earnestness of our Lord's prayer, the devotion of his soul

, arresponded 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 entre mity 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 trener dous scene was prayer: prayer the most earnest, the most urgent; repeated, continued, proceeding from the recesses of the sedi private, solitary; prayer for deliverance; prayer for strength; alive everything, prayer for resignation.

1760–1820.] 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 wbo 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?

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Conclusion of the Hore Paulina.

CHARACTER OF PAUL.

ELIZABETH CARTER, 1717--1806,

Here then we have a man of liberal attainments, and, in other points, of sound judgment, who had addicted his life to the servit of the gospel. We see him, in the prosecution of bis purpur travelling from country to country, enduring every species of Liani ship, encountering every extremity of danger, assaulted by populace, punished by the magistrates

, scourged, beat, stoned

, ledi for dead; expecting, wherever he came, a renewal of the same treatment, and the same dangers; yet, when driven from one city,

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. 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

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 tell 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.

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;
Awak'd our fair from too inglorious ease,
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."

couraged, and advised her to relinquish her studies; but intense and statematic application soon met with its reward. In a few years, she acquired a very critical knowledge of Greek and Latin, and had made considerate proficiency in Hebrew, and, before her i wenty-first year, she added the French, Spanish, and German to her other acquirements. But all thet > attainments she felt be nothing without religion. Her earnest pielsen the most decided feature of her character in her youth, and continued not minished to the last moments of her life.

Notwithstanding her laborious and severe studies, she found leisure fr amusement, and for the display of a cheerful and ever gay disposition. Oi dancing she was particularly fond, and entered with great vivacity 96 high spirits into all the innocent diversions of youth. She was fordel painting, and attained considerable excellence in the art ; and, bekere ber seventeenth year, she courted the Muses, by translating from tbe Greeks the thirtieth ode of Anacreon; and the next year she sent iwo or three precum effusions to the Gentleman's Magazine." In 1739, she gave a translatia from the French of the critique of Crousaz on ''Pope's Essay on Man," an of Algarotti's “Explanation of Newton's Philosophy, for the Use of Ladies. which procured her a high reputation among the literati, both in Engine and on the Continent. In 1746, she wrote her “ Ode to Wisdom," oce the most elegant and interesting of her poetical effusions. By this time, el course, her literary acquaintance was very extensive. Of these, Dr. Seeker (afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury) was warmly attached to her, and was of great service to her in her literary pursuits ; and Dr. Johnson was struck with the depth and variety of her acquisitions, that he wrote a Greek epigram in her praise."

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 pub. lished 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 milos!"

In the latter part of her life, Mrs. Carter began to feel heavily the devas. tation which death usually makes among the friends of those who are destined to long life. In 1768, Dr. Secker died; in 1770, her beloved com. panion, 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 super. stilion are contrasted in a most admirable manner.

I talked of the difficulty of early rising. Dr. Johnson told me that is learned Mrs. Carter, at that period when she was eager in study, did 24 awake as early as she wished, and she therefore had a contrivance that a certain hour, her chamber light should burn a string, to which a heary weite was suspended, which then tell with a strong, sudden noise : this moused tee from sleep, and then she had no difficulty in getting up." Croker's Boswell vol. vi.

P. 310. * These acquirements were not made, as they never should be, at the et pense of more feminine accomplishments. “Upon hearing a lady commented for her learning, Dr. Johnson said, “A man is in general better pleased wit he has a good dinner upon his table than when his wife talks Greek di old friend, Mrs. Carter,' he added, could make a pudding as well as traste late Epictetus from the Greek, and work a handkerchies as well as compared poem.

» Croker's Boswell, vol. ix. p. 129. • She was highly complimented for this effort by a writer in the “Gentle man: Magazine," vol. ir. p. 322 :

" Be thine the glory to have led the way,

And beam'd on temale minds fair science's ray;
Awak'd our fair from too inglorious ease,
To meditate on themes sublime as these :
The many paihs of nature 10 explore,

And boldly tread where none have reach'd before."
In a letter to Cave, he says, “ I have composed a Greek epigram 10 Elise
and think she ought to be celebrated in as many different languages as Louis

See Compradium of English Literature, p. 566. a Read a memoir of her in Drake's Essays, vol. v.

7

le Grand."

RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION.

To the Rambler.

Sir: I had lately a very remarkable dream, which made so strong an impression on me, that I remember it every word; and if you are not better employed, you may read the relation of it as follows:

Methought I was in the midst of a very entertaining set of company, and extremely delighted in attending to a lively conversation, when, on a sudden, I perceived one of the most shocking figures imagination can frame, advancing towards me. She was drest in black, her skin was contracted into a thousand 'wrinkles, her eyes deep sunk in her head, and her complexion pale and livid as the countenance of death. Her looks were filled with terror and unrelenting severity, and her hands armed with whips and scorpions. As soon as she came near, with a horrid frown, and a voice that chilled my very blood, she bid me follow her. I obeyed, and she led me through rugged paths, beset with briers and thorns, into a deep solitary valley. Wherever she passed, the fading verdure withered beneath her steps; her pestilential breath infected the air with malignant vapors, obscured the lustre of the sun, and involved the fair face of heaven in universal gloom. Dismal howlings resounded through the forest, from

every baleful tree the night-raven uttered his dreadful note, and the prospect was filled with desolation and horror. In the midst of this tremendous scene, my execrable guide addressed me in the following manner :

“Retire with me, 0 rash, unthinking mortal, from the vain allurements of a deceitful world, and learn that pleasure was not designed the portion of human life. Man was born to mourn and to be wretched; this is the condition of all below the stars, and whoever endeavors to oppose it acts in contradiction to the will of Heaven. Fly then from the fatal enchantments of youth and social delight, and here consecrate the solitary hours to lamentation and woe. Misery is the duty of all sublunary beings, and every enjoyment is an offence to the Deity, who is to be worshipped only by the mortification of every sense of pleasure, and the everlasting exercise of sighs and tears.”

This melancholy picture of life quite sunk my spirits, and seemed to annihilate every principle of joy within me. I threw myself beneath a blasted yew, where the winds blew cold and dismal round my head, and dreadful apprehensions chilled my heart. Here I resolved to lie till the hand of death, which I im

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