"To maintain in us a constant and steady disposition to obedience, to correct our perverse inclinations, to curb our unruly passions, to strengthen us against temptations, to comfort us in anxieties and distresses, we do need continual supplies of grace from God; the which ordinarily are communicated in devotion, as the channel which conveyeth, or the instrument which helpeth to procure it, or the condition upon which it is granted. Faith, hope, love, spiritual comfort and joy, all divine graces are chiefly elicited, expressed, exercised therein and thereby; it is therefore needful that it should frequently be used; seeing otherwise we shall be in danger to fail in discharging our chief duties, and to want the best graces.

"It is frequency of devotion also which maintaineth that friendship with God, which is the soul of piety. As familiar conversation (wherein men do express their minds and affections) mutually breedeth acquaintance, and cherisheth good-will of men to one another; but long forbearance thereof dissolveth, or slackeneth the bonds of amity, breaking their intimacy, and cooling their kindness: so is it in respect to God; it is frequent converse with him which begetteth a particular acquaintance with him, a mindful regard of him, a hearty liking to him, a delightful taste of his goodness, and consequently a sincere and solid good-will towards him; but intermission thereof produceth estrangement, or enmity towards him. If we seldom come at God, we shall little know him, not much care for him, scarce remember him, rest insensible of his love, and regardless "of his favour; a coldness, a shyness, a distaste, an antipathy towards him, will by degrees creep upon us. Abstinence from his company and presence will cast us into conversations destructive, or prejudicial to our friendship with him; wherein soon we shall contract familiarity and friendship with his enemies (the world and the flesh), which are inconsistent with love to him, which will dispose us to forget him, or to dislike and loathe him."

Of an entirely opposite style to this forcible and impressive manner of writing, are the sermons of Bishop Tillotson. Drake has thus happily contrasted these two contemporary writers; whilst richness, vehemence and strength, characterize the productions of Barrow, simplicity, languor and enervation, form the chief features in the diction of Tillotson. To the former belong a fervid fancy and a poetic ear, glowing figures and harmonious cadences; to the latter, perspicuity and smooth

ness, verbal purity and unaffected ease. If Barrow be occasionally involved, harsh, or redundant, Tillotson is too generally loose and feeble, and he seldom displays much either of beauty or melody, in the arrangement or construction of his periods."

The following passage is a favourable specimen of the style of Tillotson :—

"Give me leave to recommend to you, this new commandment, that ye love one another; which is almost a new commandment still, and hardly the worse for wearing; so seldom is it put on, and so little hath it been practised among Christians for several ages.

"Consider seriously with yourselves; ought not the great matters wherein we are agreed, our union in the doctrines of the Christian religion, and in all the necessary articles of that faith which was once delivered to the saints, in the same sacraments, and in all the substantial parts of God's worship, and in the great duties and virtues of the Christian life, to be of greater force to unite us, than difference in doubtful opinions, and in little rights and circumstances of worship, to divide and break us?

"Are not the things, about which we differ, in their nature indifferent? that is, things about which there ought to be no difference among wise men; are they not at a great distance from the life and essence of religion, or rather good and bad as they tend to the peace and unity of the church, or are made use of to schism or faction, than either necessary or evil in themselves? And shall little scruples weigh so far with us, as by breaking the peace of the church about them, to endanger the whole of religion? Shall we take one another by the throat for a hundred pence, when our common adversary stands ready to clap upon us an action of ten thousand talents?"

This passage has more vivacity than is usually found in the writings of Tillotson. The extract found in the school books on the Advantages of truth and sincerity, is perhaps a fairer specimen of his style.

If we now turn from these dignitaries of the English church, to the Non-conformists of this reign, we find a class of writers of different, but not inferior claims to our consideration. I refer to such men as Howe, Bates, Baxter, and Bunyan, men, who for intellectual vigour, for richness and originality, and, I may add, for poetical beauty of

thought and language, are not surpassed in any period of English literature. It is true their tastes had not been fully subjected to the refining influences of classical learning (some of them were uneducated men), neither had they the same rich literary stores for illustration and ornament, as were possessed by others; but these defects were well supplied by native genius, and an intimate knowledge of men and of things around them, and, above all, of the workings of their own hearts. They stand forth to our view, not as refined scholars, but as witnesses of the enlarging and exalting influence of the Christian religion on the minds of men. The writings of Baxter and Bunyan are familiar to all; I shall therefore confine the specimens given of this class of writers to two short extracts from Howe and Bates. The following is from Howe's "Blessedness of the Righteous:"_

"To live destitute of a divine presence, to discern no beam of the heavenly glory; to go up and down day by day, and perceive nothing of God, no glimmering, no appearance; this is disconsolate as well as sinful darkness. What can be made of creatures, what of the daily events of providence, if we see not in them the glory of a Deity; if we do not contemplate the divine wisdom, power, and goodness diffused every where ? Our practical atheism, and inobservance of God, makes the world become to us the region and shadow of death, states us as among ghosts and spectres, makes all things look with a ghastly face, imprints death upon every thing we see, encircles us with gloomy, dreadful shades, and with uncomfortable apparitions. Surely there is little heaven in all this. But if now we open our eyes upon that all comprehending glory, apply them to a steady intuition of God, how heavenly a life shall we then live in the world? To have God always in view, as the director and end of all our actions; to make our eye crave leave of God to consult him before we adventure upon any thing, and implore his guidance and blessing, upon all occasions to direct our prayers to him, and to look up, to make our eye wait his commanding look, ready to receive all intimations of his will; this is an angelic life. This is to walk in the light, amidst a serene, placid, mild light, that infuses no unquiet thoughts, admits no guilty

fears, nothing that can disturb or annoy us. To eye God in all our comforts, and observe the smiling aspects of his face, when he dispenses them to us; to eye Him in all our afflictions, and consider the paternal wisdom that instructs us in them; how would this increase our mercies and mitigate our troubles? To eye Him in all his creatures, and observe the various prints of the Creator's glory stamped upon them; with how lively a lustre would it clothe the world, and make every thing look with a pleasant face! What a heaven were it to look upon God, as filling all in all; and how sweetly would it, erewhile, raise our souls into some such sweet seraphic strains, holy, holy,—the whole earth is full of his glory.”

Bates, in a Sermon on "Heaven," thus speaks of the pleasures that spring from knowledge in the regions of the blessed :

"When the soul opens its eyes to the clear discoveries of the first truth, in which is no shadow of error, and its breast to the dear and intimate embraces of the supreme good, in which is no mixture of evil, and beyond which nothing remains to be known, nothing to be enjoyed, what a deluge of the purest and sweetest pleasure will overflow it? We cannot ascend in our thoughts so high, as to conceive the excess of joy, that attends those operations of the glorified soul upon its proper object. But something we may conjecture.

"Those who are possessed with a noble passion for knowledge, how do they despise all lower pleasures in comparison of it? How do they forget themselves, neglect the body, and retire into the mind, the highest part of man, and nearest to God? The bare apprehension of such things, that by their internal nature have no attractive influence upon the affections, is pleasant to the understanding. As the appearance of light, though not attended with any visible beauties, refreshes the eye after long darkness; so the clear discovery of truths, how abstract soever, that were before unknown, is grateful to the intellective faculty.

*

"But here are many imperfections that lessen this intellectual pleasure, which shall cease in heaven. Here the acquisition of knowledge is often with the expense of health; the flower of the spirits, necessary for natural operations, is wasted by intense thought. How often are the learned sickly? As the flint, when it is struck, gives not a spark, without consuming itself; so knowledge is obtained by studies that waste our faint, sensitive faculties. But there our knowledge shall be a free emanation from the spring of truth, without our labour or pains. Here we learn by circuit, and discern by

comparing things; ignorant darkness is dispelled by a gradual succession of light; but there perfect knowledge shall be infused in a moment. Here, after all our labour and toil, how little knowledge do we gain? Every question is a labyrinth, out of which the nimblest and most searching minds cannot extricate themselves. How many specious errors impose upon our understandings? We look on things by false lights, through deceiving spectacles; but then our knowledge shall be certain and complete. There is no forbidden tree in the celestial Paradise, as no inordinate affection. We shall see God in all his excellences the supreme object and end, the only felicity of the soul. How will the sight of his glorious perfections in the first moment quench our extreme thirst, and fill us with joy and admiration! It is not as the naked conception of treasures, that only makes rich in idea; but that divine sight gives a real interest in him. The angels are so ravished with the beauties and wonders of his face, they never divert a moment from the contemplation of it."

While the theological writers of this period were thus contributing in different ways to the advancement of English style, there are found in other departments of literature writings of the same tendency. Sir William Temple, who flourished during this reign, may be ranked among the elegant writers that adorn the literature of England. He is said to have made the improvement of his style an object of special effort and study, and his uncommon purity of language, his ease, and simplicity of expression, the rich ornaments which embellish his style, and the beauty and melody of his periods, are evidence of his success. The following description of heroic virtue is a fair specimen of his style.

"Though it is easier to describe heroic virtue by effects and examples, than by causes or definitions; yet it may be said to arise from some great and native excellency of temper or genius, transcending the common race of mankind, in wisdom, goodness, and fortitude. These ingredients, advantaged by birth, improved by education, and assisted by fortune, seem to make that noble composition which gives such a lustre to those who have possessed it, as made them appear to common eyes something more than mortals, and to have been of some mixture between divine and human race; to