Temple had seized, and to some extent anticipated, the temper and thoughts of the average best men of his age, and had expressed them in competent, if not consummate, manner. This is almost a definition of the secret of popularity.

Thomas Sherlock was superior to his father, both in general intellectual ability and in special literary faculty; and he had the advantages of an almost finished style put ready into his hands. But he paid for this by being the contemporary of more distinguished writers in his own fields, and by the fact that the pulpit, though still powerful, was less powerful than it had been, and that the gradual “taming” process, of which Tillotson had set the example, had brought its exercises close to the uninteresting. As a mere writer he could not vie with Addison or Swift; as a writer in controversial divinity he could not vie with Law on one side or Berkeley on another. Nevertheless, he exhibited the earlier form of eighteenth-century prose in a very good measure, and showed its capacities in the various uses to which he applied it. As has been said above, he marks progress particularly well when he is contrasted with his father. The half century of difference (though indeed there was not that between their births) is perceivable at once. The style of Sherlock the younger is not extraordinarily remarkable; but it is good of its kind. It has not seemed necessary to draw on his Sermons, but the Trial of the Witnesses and the Letter on the Earthquakes have each furnished a characteristic specimen. Those persons who retain the old English delight in a theological argument, conducted on sound logical principles, may be invited to turn from the extract here given from the Trial to the severer and more daring championship of orthodoxy on the same subject by the great antagonist of Sherlock's father, South.

GEORGE SAINTSBURY.

WILLIAM SHERLOCK

PREPARATION FOR DEATH A CURE FOR FEAR OF DEATH

IT betimes delivers us from the fears of death: and indeed it is then only a man begins to live, when he is got above the fears of death. Were men thoughtful and considerate, death would hang over them in all their mirth and jollity, like a fatal sword by a single hair; it would sour all their enjoyments, and strike terror into their hearts and looks. But the security of most men is, that they put off the thoughts of death, as they do their preparation for it: they live secure and free from danger, only because they will not open their eyes to see it. But these are such examples as no wise man will propose to himself, because they are not safe. And there are so many occasions to put these men in mind of death, that it is a very hard thing not to think of it; and whenever they do, it chills their blood and spirits, and draws a black melancholy veil over all the glories in the world. How are such men surprised when any danger approaches? When death comes within view, and shows his scythe, and only some few sands at the bottom of the glass? This is a very

frightful sight to men who are not prepared to die and yet should they give themselves liberty to think in what danger they live every minute, how many thousand accidents may cut them off, which they can neither foresee nor prevent; fear, and horror, and consternation, would be their constant entertainment, 'till they could think of death without fear; 'till they were reconciled to the thoughts of dying, by great and certain hopes of a better life after death.

So that no man can live happily, if he lives like a man with his thoughts and reason and consideration about him, but he who

takes care betimes to prepare for death and another world. 'Till this be done, a wise man will see himself always in danger, and then he must always fear. But he is a happy man, who knows and considers himself to be mortal, and is not afraid to die. His pleasures and enjoyments are sincere and unmix'd, never disturb'd with a handwriting upon the wall, nor with some secret qualms and misgivings of mind, he is not terrified with present dangers, at least not amazed and distracted with them. A man who is deliver'd from the fears of death, fears nothing else in excess but God. And fear is so troublesome a passion, that nothing is more for the happiness of our lives, than to be deliver'd from it. (From A practical Discourse concerning Death.)

CONSCIENCE POWERFUL AND IMPOTENT

A MAN'S own conscience cannot deceive him in this. Every man must know, whether he carefully avoid all known and wilful sins; whether he discharge all essential parts of his duty to God and men; especially, when he does any eminent services for God, and becomes an example of piety and virtue. A man, whose conscience gives this testimony to him, may securely hope and rejoice in God; for whatever other defects the pure eyes of God may see in him, they are all within the Grace and Mercy of the Gospel, and therefore cannot hinder his pardon, or his reward.

Thus we see, that when conscience absolutely condemns, or when without any doubt and hesitancy it commends, acquits, and absolves, its sentence is a Divine oracle, and assures us what our judgment shall be at the last day, if we be then found in such a state. But there is a middle state between these two, which deserves to be consider'd; when men are neither so wicked, as to be absolutely condemn'd by their own consciences, nor so good, as to be acquitted and absolved; which is an uncertain state between hope and fear. This is the case of those men who have been guilty of very great sins, which they had lived in many years; and tho' they are very sensible of their past wickedness, and heartily sorry for their sins, and seriously resolved by the grace of God to forsake them; yet they are not satisfied of the sincerity of their repentance, because they have not (with all their sorrow and resolutions) conquered their inclinations to

sin, nor broken the habits of it; but are guilty of frequent relapses, and fall into the commission of the same sins again; and then repent and resolve again; and as time wears off their sorrow for their last offence, their old inclinations revive, and a new temptation conquers again. Now such men's consciences neither absolutely condemn, nor absolutely acquit them, for the event is doubtful they are not conquerors yet, and it is uncertain whether ever they will conquer; and therefore their consciences cannot yet speak peace to them: And yet they are not perfect slaves and captives to sin, but contend for their liberty, and therefore their consciences do not absolutely condemn them; but as they prevail or yield, so their hopes or fears increase.

And this also is the case of those men, who if they commit no notorious wickedness, yet do very little good, nothing that their consciences can commend them for: who worship God rather in compliance with the custom of the place they live in, than from a vital sense and reverence of God, and therefore are not for any works of supererogation. And little will content them; and they are glad of any excuse to lessen that little and all men, who pretend to greater devotion, they suspect of hypocrisy, and some secular interests.

(From A practical Discourse concerning a Future Judgment.)

THOMAS SHERLOCK

THE RESPONSIBILITY OF PARENTS

NEXT to those in public offices of power and trust, the happiness of the public depends on those who have the government in private families. Here it is that the youth of the nation must be formed, and if they are suffered to be corrupted in their religion or morals before they come into the world, there is little hope that the world will reform them. All wise men, legislators, and princes have acknowledged not only the use, but the necessity of an early education to form the mind, whilst tender, to the principles of honour and virtue; and what is more, the wisest of all, the writers inspired by the Holy Spirit, have required it as a duty from parents, and as part of the obedience they owe to God. Even our unbelievers have seen how far religion depended on this care; and under a pretence of maintaining the liberty of the human mind, and guarding it against early prejudices, they have endeavoured to persuade the world that children should be taught nothing of religion, but be left to form notions for themselves. They have had but too great success, and we begin to see the fruits of it. The children of this age grow soon to be men and women, and are admitted to be partners and witnesses to the follies and vices of their parents. Thus trained and educated, when they come to be masters and mistresses of families, they answer fully what was to be expected from them; they are often a torment to each other and to themselves, and have reason to bemoan themselves for the indulgence shown them in their early days.

Would you see the effects of this education in all orders among us, look into the many public assemblies; sometimes you may see old age affecting the follies of youth, and counterfeiting the airs of gaiety; sometimes men lying in wait to seduce women,