and their own personal depravity and condemnation, they could find neither relief, nor peace, nor hope, but in the blood of a divine Mediator. And here, while they found balm for their bleeding hearts, they found, too, motivesnumberless, powerful, resistless motives-to gratitude, to self-devotion, to universal holiness, and obedience of life. With their eyes intently fastened on their adored Redeemer, and their hearts burning with his love, they found no duty hard, no sacrifice great, no trial severe, no temptation unconquerable, no danger appalling, no injury which they could not sincerely forgive, no enemy whom they could not cordially love.

It is no part of our design to present an unnatural, or overcharged picture. The men whom we are attempting to describe, it is confessed, were flesh and blood, like ourselves; partners in the same depravity; surrounded with the same temptations; struggling with the same obstacles. They were men, too, who shed daily and nightly tears over their defective obedience, and their countless sins. And they were men, who unvaryingly ascribed all that they were, to the sovereign grace of Heaven. They felt and confessed, that nothing but infinite and unmerited mercy made the difference between themselves, and the vilest of the race. But they had faith, living, active faith; faith in a divine, almighty Redeemer. And this faith can remove mountains. It can conquer impossibilities. It can inspire all the virtues which have been faintly described. It can render them not only practicable, but easy; and not only easy, but delightful. And where is the individual, who peruses these pages, for whom the same faith cannot perform the same wonders? Immortal reader! you may know the happiness which these men enjoyed on earth. You may know the happiness which they now enjoy in heaven. Only follow their faith. Trust the Saviour, whom they trusted. And welcome to your heart that same Holy Spirit, which breathed into theirs, so much of the humility, and the purity, and the peace, and the joy of a better world.

Nothing was more prominent in the character of our Puritan ancestors, than a habitual and deep observation of divine Providence. They felt that they were in a world, not only created by the omnipotence of God, but regulated by his wisdom, and filled to overflowing, with the fruits of

his love. In every thing they perceived and acknowledged his hand-in all their comforts; in all their troubles; in all the great changes of life, and in its minutest occurrences. As they had no interests, no cares, too great or too small, to be committed to the bosom of a heavenly Friend, so they assured themselves of his kind and unslumbering attention to all their concerns. And here, they have sometimes been charged with weakness and enthusiasm. But such, most unquestionably, was the enthusiasm, such the weakness, of Abraham, of Moses, of David; of the patriarchs, prophets and apostles; of all the truly great and excellent of the earth. Illustrious men! they walked with God. They conversed, even while here, less with earth, than with heaven; less with their fellow creatures, than with their invisible Creator. So, in their humble measure, did our excellent Fathers. This was the solace of their cares, and the sweetener of their joys. This was the source of their inspiration to deeds of great and noble daring. This gave them courage to tempt the Atlantic wave, and come in quest of these rugged shores. They never read the Poet's beautiful description of the divine Omnipresence; but the same sublime conceptions dilated their hearts, and inspired their zeal.

Should fate command me to the farthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant, barbarous climes,
Rivers unknown to song-

-'tis nought to me;

Since God is ever present, ever felt,

In the void waste, as in the city full;

And where HE vital breathes, there must be joy.

To the same disposition in our Fathers, to acknowledge the Providence of God, we may trace those annual Fasts and Thanksgivings, which have been, until recently, almost peculiar to New England, and which, beyond question, had their origin there. Many Europeans have contemplated these institutions with a kind of wonder. It is possible that some, even among the children of the pilgrims, begin to view them as relics of superstition, worthy rather of a bygone age, than of the present period of illumination. And we readily admit, that if communities, as such, have no dependence to acknowledge on the Sovereign of the world; no sins to confess; no wrath to deprecate; no favour to implore; no blessings to demand gratitude and praise:

then it will be difficult to defend the propriety of the observances in question. But where is the disciple of reason and common sense, to say nothing of piety, who will commit himself to such absurdities as these? Have we, in the plenitude of our wisdom, made the discovery, that the world can proceed very well without its Maker; that earth, sea, and skies, that sun, wind and rain, will, of their own accord, enlist in the service of man; that humility and gratitude have no claims on creatures, as favored as they are unworthy; and that prayer and praise are empty sounds?— Let the brutes, that "graze the mountain-top," neglect the hand that feeds them; but let not creatures, rational, dependent, and every moment blest, be guilty of this worse than brutal insensibility. What more rational, what more sublime spectacle, than a whole community prostrate in the dust, before the King of heaven, breathing the confessions of broken hearts, the supplications of conscious unworthiness and want, and the acknowledgements of grateful praise ? It is in these methods, too, among others, that the remembrance of God is kept alive in our world; that thousands of thoughtless and guilty beings are reminded of their obligations; and that communities called Christian are prevented from relapsing into absolute heathenism.

The religion of these Fathers may be characterized as a cheerful religion. We grant that it had little of gaiety in it. And we know that gaiety is one of the rarest materials that enter into the composition of real happiness. We know that there are thousands, who, though they may smile in the giddy crowd, are seldom or never found to smile when alone. We know, that thousands who love nothing but themselves, admire nothing but themselves, seek nothing but themselves, are never so truly wretched, as when in their own company. Thousands find that "their very wishes give them not their wish." Thousands are constrained to echo the complaint of the blind philosopher of Scotland ;* that his "whole life had been one long desire, and one continual privation." Thousands feel, every day they live, that their pageantry and parade are but the " gildings of their woe." And thousands whom the world regards with admiration, or with envy, would gladly exchange their condition with that of a brute. And there is a religion too powerless to put to flight these maladies of the mind; a religion, too poor and

* Saunderson.

superficial, to give either pain or pleasure, hope or fear, anxiety or relief, penitence or pardon. Such was not the religion of our ancestors. Theirs was a religion which probed deeply the wounds of a guilty conscience, and faithfully searched out the impurities of a depraved heart. The disease was radical; and the process of cure, painful; but the recovery was certain; for the Physician was divine, and was never baffled. They sowed in tears, but they reaped in joy. They deposited at the feet of their Saviour, a thousand burdens; but they carried none away. Restored to their God, they were restored to themselves; and peace, a visitant before unknown, took up its abode in their hearts. Now, new objects fire their bosoms; new hopes brighten around their path. The future being stripped of its horrours, they can enjoy the present. In the bounties of Providence, in the intercourse of friendship, in the solid improvements of knowledge, they taste unreproaching pleaStill more; in communion with their God; in living for their Saviour, and for man; in the whispers of approving conscience, and the anticipations of heaven, they find perennial sources of cheerfulness and joy.

To family instruction, devotion and government, our wise and pious Fathers attached great importance. They viewed their children as a sacred charge. Their first object was to train them for God, and for heaven. From parental lips the lessons of piety distilled into the opening mind, like the dew of the morning. If, compared with our relaxed habits, their discipline was rigid, still it was ordinarily tempered with kindness. Almost every family had its altar, around which parents and children assembled to worship a common Father, to receive a common blessing, and to prepare for the praises and felicities of the great family on high.*

The simple and beautiful description of Burns, has been realized in hundreds of New England families.

"Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King,
The saint, the father, and the husband prays:
'Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing,'
That thus they all shall meet in future days;

There ever bask in uncreated rays,

No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear;
Together hymning their Creator's praise,
In such society, yet still more dear;

While circling time moves round, in an eternal sphere."
VOL. IV.

42

For a sacred regard to the Sabbath, our puritan ancestors were eminently distinguished. Its prevalent and even licensed violation in England, had given pain to their inmost hearts. They came to these regions, resolved on a strict adherence, in this regard, to the Scripture model. And probably on no spot on earth, has the Sabbath been more inviolably observed for centuries, than in New England in its earlier days. Our Fathers honestly thought, that the original Institutionwhich they believed to be both unrepealed and unmodifiedrequired an entire abstinence through the day, not only from unnecessary labour, but from every thing in action, in conversation, in reading, and even in thought, tending to desecrate the season, or to secularize the mind, and impair devotion. And it remains to be proved, that any other mode of employing the day, is either acceptable to the Most High, or fitted to accomplish, for individuals or communities, the holy and benign intention of the institution. Let it not, however, be suspected that, with those good men, the Sabbath was an unwelcome, joyless season; a grudged and reluctant homage to their Maker. Far otherwise. It was the free, generous, joyous tribute of their inmost hearts. It was the brightest and the best of days; a refuge, equally from the cares, the sorrows, and seductions of the world-a season of holy intercourse with their God, and with his saints-an emblem, and an anticipation too, of eternal rest. And when assured, as they were, by reflection, by observation and history, of its benign aspects and tendencies, its inestimably beneficial effects, on the body, the mind, and the heart; on individuals and communities; on the church and the world; they realized new and powerful motives to defend its authority, to vindicate its rights, and to resist every encroachment on its sacred claims.*

The most judicious and devoted Christians, have ever felt most deeply the value of the Sabbath, and the inestimable advantages of yielding to the full measure of its claims. The testimony of Lord Chief Justice Hale, on this subject, has been often quoted, and is generally known. With the experience of this excellent man, that of the pious and eloquent Wilberforce is perfectly in keeping. Says his friend, the Rev. Mr. Venn, "I have often heard him assert, that he never could have sustained the labour and stretch of mind, required in his early political life, if it had not been for the rest of his Sabbath and that he could name several of his contemporaries in the vortex of political cares, whose minds had actually given way under the stress of intellectual labour so as to bring on a premature death, or the still more dreadful catastrophe of in