THE NEW COMMANDMENT. "A NEW commandment," said our blessed Lord, But if we sion of obedience to the old one. examine the matter attentively, we shall find that the law itself has assumed a new form; and that in the way in which it is stated by our Lord, it presents a new standard, which is added to the old one, without being designed to supersede it. In its original form, the law ran in these terms, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour-as thyself;" our self-love, a strong, instinctive, and constant principle being made the measure or the standard of that love which we owe to others; but in the words of our blessed Lord, it runs thus, "This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you;" the Redeemer's own love to us being substituted in the room of self-love, as the standard of our love to others. And this is a change so radical and important, as may well serve at once to explain and to justify his language when he says, "A new commandment give I unto you." The matter of the law is the same throughout, that being mutual holy love; but the form of the law, as it is here given, is new: Christ's love being substituted in the place of self-love, as the standard by which we are to be guided. According to the old form of the law, self-love was the practical standard by which we were to estimate the love which is due to others; but in the new commandment, the love of Christ is referred to as a higher and a better. Not that the old was designed to be superseded by the new; for unquestionably it was wisely selected at the beginning, and is still of admirable use: it had reference to a principle of which all men are conscious—a principle alike natural, and vigorous, and constant, and which, being ever present with us, could at all times be referred to as an exponent of our duty: it admitted of being conveyed in a form of expression so simple, that every one could understand it, and was so self-evidently reasonable, that no one could refuse to acknowledge its obliga tion: for surely, no rule could be more simple, or better fitted for popular use, than the royal law, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself," '-or the golden rule, "Do unto others as ye would that they should do unto you." But still the principle of self-love, when regarded as the practical standard of that love which we owe to others, labours under some defects, especially in the case of fallen men, whose very self-love is either corrupted, misdirected, or unduly cherished; and the rule founded upon it is rather (as Leibnitz observed) a correction of self-partiality, than an explanation either of the reason or details of our duty It is, indeed, an inferior and subordinate principle, and was perhaps assumed as a standard for this among other reasons, that it is too apt, in practice, to encroach upon, and restrain the operation of that charity which is prescribed: but the love of Christ is a pattern, as well as a standard; it is essentially of the same nature with that love which we are required to cherish-the same sentiment in kind, but infinitely perfect in degree: and that sentiment, embodied, as it were, and brought into visible manifestation, and acted before us, in the person of Christ and by how much a generous excels a selfish spirit, and by how much the love of Christ excelled all the love that had ever heretofore appeared on earth, to the same extent is this new commandment more excellent than the former; as it not only requires, but exhibits, the love which we must cherish, containing at once a correct standard, a perfect pattern, and a most persuasive motive. The advent of Jesus furnished a fitting occasion for giving a new form to the law. He manifested a love of which the world had previously no conception :-Divine and human love concentrated in his one person, partaking alike of the perfection of his Godhead, and the tenderness of his humanity. It was a new era in the history of our world when Christ appeared, and threw the lustre of his unquenchable love over its bleak and arid selfishness; and that love was destined to work an entire revolution in its spirit, and to raise man from the pursuit of his own selfish interests to a participation in the benevolence which reigns in heaven. Before His advent, God commanded men to love their neighbours as themselves; but now when a nobler love was displayed in the person of his Son, he has made that the pattern for universal imitation. Instead of pointing to an instinct in our own bosom, he directs our eye to love embodied in the person of his Son,—a love which brought him down from the upper sanctuary, which prompted him to go about continually doing good," and, finally, to sacrifice his life itself that he might save the lost. Every Christian must be deeply sensible that the love of Christ is a theme which far transcends his highest thoughts. Even the inspired apostles seem to labour for utterance when they speak of it, and after all, they confess that "it passeth knowledge." In one remarkable passage, Paul says to the disciples at Ephesus, "For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man; that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breath, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God." This marvellous prayer implies, first, that to conceive aright of Christ's love, is to be "filled with all the fulness of God;" secondly, that in order to take in this grand conception, we must be "strengthened with all might by the Spirit of God;" and, thirdly, that even when we are thus strengthened, that love" passeth knowledge;" so unfathomable by human thought, so inconceivable to the loftiest mind, are the unsearchable riches of the Redeemer's love! Our minds are so contracted that they do not readily receive even the faint idea of it which we might thus be enabled to form. Many professing Christians have no conception of it. They have little love in their own hearts, and hence they know little of that love which is in the heart of Christ. The more selfish any man is, the less is he qualified to estimate and believe in the disinterested love of another. A sordid worldling has no sympathy with, and indeed, no correct idea of a martyr's spirit; and so our cold, contracted, and selfish hearts do but ill qualify us for understanding the love of the Redeemer. "He that loveth not, knoweth not God, for God is love." And hence our love to one another is weak. The spirit which is required in the new commandment is not natural to any of us. It is the fruit, whereever it appears, of the Spirit of God. "The fruit of the Spirit is love." We must be "taught of God to love one another." We can only "purify our souls in obeying the truth, through the Spirit, unto unfeigned love of the brethren;" if we would "love one another with pure hearts fervently," we must be "born again." One of the likeliest means, however, of working this spirit in us, is the habitual contemplation of the love of Christ, for "beholding, as in a glass, the glory of the Lord, we are changed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord." BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. MRS. HANNAH MORE.-PART I. Tus distinguished lady, whose memory is deservedly held in high estimation, was the youngest but one of five daughters. Her father, Jacob More, a man of considerable classical attainments, was the master of a foundation-school at Stapleton, in Gloucestershire, where Hannah was born in the year 1745. The family belonged to the Church of England; but Mrs More's forefathers appear to have been, even in the most troublous times, devoted Presbyterians. The following extract of a letter received by Mr Roberts, the editor of her "Life and Correspondence," gives an interesting account of the ancestors of the family : "The family of the Mores was highly respectable, Mrs H. More's but they were of different parties. grandfather married into a family who were zealous Nonconformists. They boarded a minister in their house, and assembled there at the hour of midnight, to worship God according to the dictates of conscience, while Mr More guarded the entrance with his sword. | introduced to the author, the high opinion he had pre In aftertines, my mother has heard the old lady reproach her grand-daughter as lightly esteeming the Word of God, when they complained of fatigue after walking some distance in the midst of winter to their place of worship. She was a staunch Presbyterian, remarkable for the simplicity and integrity of her principles. She always rose at four, even in the winter, after she had reached her eightieth year; and she lived beyond her ninetieth. Her son, Mrs H. More's father, and her daughter, afterwards Mrs Hayle of Needham, each received an education adapted to their prospects, which were considered as promising all that is desirable in this life; but the unfortunate issue of a law-suit blasted their well-founded hopes, and sent Mr More from his native county to the west of England." In early life, Hannah gave evidence of possessing a mind singularly active and acute. Her desire for knowledge was peculiarly strong; and her father, whose mind was richly stored with the most prominent facts of Greek and Roman history, which he took great pleasure in narrating to his children, found a willing and delighted listener in the ardent and inquisitive Hannah. His conversation was to her a source of much enjoyment; and she often dwelt in after life on the high privilege which she enjoyed in having been reared in infancy under the care of an enlightened Christian parent. Under her father's tuition she made rapid progress, not merely in the more elementary branches of learning, but in the Latin classics and in mathematics. It was the desire of Mr and Mrs More, that their daughters should receive such an education as would enable them, in course of time, to establish a boarding-school; and this was the more desirable, as, from the limited income which the school at Stapleton afforded, there was every probability that the five young ladies would be ultimately left to their own resources. With this view, accordingly, the plan of their studies was framed. The eldest was sent to a French school at Bristol; and as she returned home at the end of each week, she instructed her sisters so far as her own acquisitions went; and under this tuition Hannah commenced the study of the French language, which she continued to prosecute with such diligence, that she at length acquired a complete familiarity with its idioms and pronunciation. At length, when the eldest sister was considered as having finished her education, the long-projected plan was carried into effect of opening a boarding-school at Bristol. To that town accordingly the sisters removed, and Hannah, who was then only twelve years of age, was thus enabled to prosecute her studies under the various masters who regularly attended the seminary. Her progress was in the highest degree satisfactory, and her talents were regarded by her friends as of a promising description. From very early life she took a remarkable delight not merely in reading, but occa sionally writing poetry; and though her effusions were seldom allowed to travel beyond the precincts of the family, she received sufficient encouragement to lead her to persist in her poetic efforts. When she had reached her sixteenth year, the elder Sheridan came to Bristol to give lectures on eloquence, and such was the impression made upon the mind of Hannah, that she gave vent to her feelings in a copy of verses which was presented to the lecturer by a friend. Sheridan was much pleased with the compliment; and having been One day, viously formed of her taste and talents was fully confirmed. About this period she was seized with a dangerous illness, in consequence of which Dr Woodward, an eminent physician, was called in. when making a professional visit to his young patient, he entered into conversation with her upon literary topics, and so fascinated did he become with the richness and variety of her remarks, as to forget the purpose of his visit, till suddenly recollecting himself, when he was half way down stairs, he returned to the room, exclaiming, "How are you to-day, my poor child?" After her recovery from this severe illness, Hannah More continued to store her mind with useful information, and to acquire those elegant accomplishments which her sister's seminary afforded her the opportu nity of obtaining. So rapidly did her mental powers develope themselves, that at the age of seventeen she wrote the pastoral drama, entitled, the "Search after Happiness." This early effort of her pen was attended with the success which her talents deserved. In the study of the modern languages, she spent much of her time about this period of her life, and she succeeded in mastering the Italian, Latin, and Spanish so completely, as to produce several spirited translations and imitations, which, though never published, were circulated among her acquaintances. When Miss More had scarcely reached the age of twenty-two, she received the addresses of Mr Turner, a gentleman of fortune, twenty years older than herself. Arrangements were made for their union, the day was more than once fixed, but Mr Turner always alleged some frivolous excuse or other for delaying the marriage. At length her sisters and friends interfered, and, by their advice, she came to the fixed resolution of putting an end to the matter; and though Mr Turner expressed a wish that the marriage should be completed, Miss More positively declined to renew the engage. ment. What might be the various circumstances which operated upon her mind in the course of this transaction, it is impossible at this distance of time to say; but it is highly honourable to her memory, that Mr Turner insisted upon settling an annuity upon her for life, that he continued to cherish the highest respect for her virtues and excellencies, and at his death bequeathed to her a thousand pounds. From the period of this distressing transaction, Miss More, with that dignity and moral strength of character for which she was distinguished, refused to lend an ear to any similar proposal. The enthusiasm with which a young and ardent mind, devoted almost exclusively to the pursuits of literature, feels itself impelled, in every step of its progress, is far from being favourable to the full developement of the Christian character. It is liable to be involved in a system of intellectual idolatry, which so magnifies in importance the mere cultivation of the mind, as to imagine it of higher value than the im plantation of holiness in the heart. The man of intellect is viewed as a demigod, and the pursuits of intel lect are regarded as the paramount object of human existence. Under the unhappy influence of a delusion of this nature, Hannah More spent several precious years of her life. Much of her time was passed in London, where, in the company of the great, and amid the dissipation of literary society, she, for a time, forgot the holy principles her parents had inculcated, and mingled, with little compunction, if not with entire satisfaction, in the frivolous amusements and empty gaieties of fashionable life. During this period, though she still maintained a profession of Christianity, and when occasion offered she defended it against the sneers and the attacks of infidels into whose company she was thrown, there appears, from her correspondence, to have been a very feeble impression of its influence and power upon her mind. Her time, her talents, her feelings and affections, were engrossed with other affairs than those of eternity. The world's pleasures and the world's applause were the all-absorbing objects of her thoughts and desires. Notwithstanding this, however, she persisted in refusing all invitations to Sunday parties, and though she gave frequent attendance at the theatre, besides herself writing several successful pieces for the stage, yet, in her private hours, it would appear she both read and thought upon divine things. The death of Garrick, the celebrated tragedian, who had been long the friend and patron of Miss More, is regarded by her biographer, and we think justly, as an era in her life. It is marked by an evident change in the tone of her correspondence; she becomes more thoughtful, more subdued, more rational, more resembling a Christian. But for several years after the decease of the friend just mentioned, her letters betray a coldness in speaking of religion, which seems to indicate that, though her judgment was fully convinced in favour of its truth and importance, her heart was but feebly influenced by its sanctifying and saving power. She was still exposed to so much flattery, that the world was, to some extent, her idol; and though the death of various literary friends and acquaintances shed an occasional tinge of melancholy over her letters, it was obviously that sentimental sadness which is the offspring rather of a keenly sensitive heart, than of a habitually serious and reflective mind. Passing over, therefore, ten years of Miss More's life, which were spent amid the follies and vanities of mere worldly society, we would hasten forward to a period when religion assumed, in her view, its due prominence and regard. It is impossible, however, to fix upon any certain date at which this all-important change took place. It was gradual and progressive, commencing with that spirit of sobriety and calm reflection which first displays itself after the death of Garrick, and perceptibly increases as years roll over her head. She was always characterized by a peculiar gentleness and benevolence of character, which frequently displayed itself amid all the giddiness which marked the earlier part of her literary career. Two incidents may be referred to as illustrative of this remark. The first is thus mentioned in a letter written in 1784 by Miss More to Mrs Montagu : "On my return from Sandleford, a copy of verses was shown me, said to be written by a poor illiterate woman in this neighbourhood, who sells milk from door to door. The story did not engage my faith, but the verses excited my attention; for, though incorrect, they breathed the genuine spirit of poetry, and were rendered still more interesting, by a certain natural and strong expression of misery, which seemed to fill Her She is the heart and mind of the author. On making dili In "When I went to see her, I observed a perfect simplicity in her manners, without the least affectation or pretension of any kind; she neither attempted to raise my compassion by her distress, nor my admiration by her parts. But, on a more familiar acquaintance, I have had reason to be surprised at the justness of her taste, the faculty I least expected to find in her. truth, her remarks on the books she has read are so accurate, and so consonant to the opinions of the best critics, that, from that very circumstance, they would appear trite and common-place in any one who had been in habits of society; for, without having ever conversed with any body above her own level, she seems to possess the general principles of sound taste and just thinking. "I was curious to know what poetry she had read. With the Night Thoughts and Paradise Lost, I found her well acquainted; but she was astonished to learn that Young and Milton had written anything else. Of Pope, she had only seen the Eloisa; and Dryden, Spenser, Thomson, and Prior, were quite unknown to her, even by name. She has read a few of Shakspeare's plays, and speaks of a translation of the Georgics, which she has somewhere seen, with the warmest poetic rapture. But though it has been denied to her to drink at the pure well-head of pagan poesy, yet, from the true fountain of divine inspiration, her mind seems to have been wonderfully nourished and enriched." Miss More, anxious to relieve the distresses of this poor woman, whose talents appeared to be of an extraordinary kind, commenced a subscription in her behalf. Anne Yearsley, for such was the name of the milkwoman, was accordingly induced to prepare a volume of her Poems for the press; and, after thirteen months unremitting exertions, Miss More succeeded in raising not less a sum than five hundred pounds, which was placed in the funds, Mrs Montagu and herself being the trustees. The woman, however, in whose behalf the money was procured, was a stranger alike to gratitude and prudence; and, inflated by the notice she had at care. tracted, she openly expressed her indignation at not having the sum subscribed put into her hands. Under the influence of rage and malice combined, she spread the most absurd calumnies against her benefactors, as if they wished to embezzle the money intrusted to their Both Mrs Montagu and Miss More bore with such misrepresentations for some time, but worn out at length with her unmerited abuse, they surrendered the money into the hands of a respectable lawyer, and refrained from taking any farther interest in one who had proved herself so unworthy of their kindness. Miss More thus notices the conduct of this foolish woman in a letter to Mr Pepys : "There is hardly a species of slander the poor foolish creature does not propagate against me, in the most public manner, because I have called her a milkwoman, and because I have placed the money in the funds, instead of letting her spend it. I confess my weakness-it goes to my heart, not for my own sake, but for the sake of our common nature; so much for my inward feelings as to 'my active resentment, I am trying to get a place for her husband, and am endeavouring to make up the sum I have raised for her to five hundred pounds. Do not let this harden your heart or mine against any future object. "One of her charges is, that I design to defraud her children of the money after her death;—and tins to my face, the second time she saw me after I came hither. Poor human nature! I could weep over thee. Believe me, nor call me Methodist,-nothing but the sanctifying influences of religion can subdue and keep in tolerable order that pride which is the concomitant of great talents with a bad education." The second incident to which we would refer, as exhibiting, in a very strong light, Miss More's peculiar kindness of heart, is more romantic than that which we have just recorded. It is thus noticed in a small anonymous Memoir of Miss More, from which we prefer quoting, as it is only slightly mentioned in the large work by Mr Roberts: "Nearly about the same time when the poetry of the milk-woman became the general subject of conversation, a young female, of the most delicate figure and prepossessing feature, was discovered wandering at a place called Frenchhay, near Bristol. Here she took up her nightly rest beneath the shelter of a hay-stack, and in the day-time roamed about the fields, picking her scanty food from the hedges, but occasionally looking into the cottages, as if soliciting from the charitable inhabitants a draught of milk. This, to the credit of the villagers, was never refused; and for the bounty, she always expressed, by her behaviour, the feeling of gratitude, but never failed to hasten again to her hay-stack, where she would sit for hours together, like Sterne's Maria, though courting nothing animate or inanimate to cheer her solitude. "Even in this secluded part of the country, such an object could not fail to prove interesting; and the manner in which the rustics, old and young, of both sexes, behaved towards the stranger, reflected honour upon their feelings and humanity. The adventure, if it may be so termed, spread around the neighbourhood; and numbers came to Frenchhay from Bristol and other places, many out of curiosity, and some from better motives, with a view to administer that relief of which it was evident the wanderer stood in need. Various attempts were made to draw from the unhappy stranger Some account of her origin, but to all conversation she appeared indifferent. It was, however, certain, that this did not arise from any natural infirmity in the organ of hearing, but from a want of the means of communication, or perhaps from a disinclination to recall to memory unpleasant circumstances. With the English language she appeared wholly unacquainted; and of the French, she either had no knowledge, or was averse to it. When, however, German was spoken, and then only, she seemed to listen with something like attention, as to sounds that had been once familiar to her ear; but still she always relapsed into a state of unconscious apathy. All that could be gathered with certainty respecting her was, that of answering to the name of Louisa. Inquiries were set on foot, and diligently prosecuted, to discover by what means she came into the country; for that she was a foreigner could not be doubted; but nothing satisfactory was obtained, and, as it now appeared to be a case of harmless insanity, Louisa, through the friendly exertions of Hannah More and her sisters, was placed in Mr Henderson's lunatic asylum at the Fishponds." While Miss More mingled so extensively in literary society, she had frequent opportunities of meeting with the celebrated Dr Samuel Johnson, by whom her talents were fully appreciated. He often spoke of her in the highest terms; and the respect, approaching to veneration, with which she regarded that haughty autocrat of literature, led her to take a lively interest in all that concerned him. As his latter end drew nigh, she watched every step of his declining years with a deepfelt concern at once for his temporal comfort and his eternal well-being. She thus speaks of his death in a letter to her sister: "Mr Pepys wrote me a very kind letter on the death of Johnson, thinking I should be impatient to hear something relating to his last hours. Dr Brocklesby, his physician, was with him: Johnson said to him a little before he died, 'Doctor, you are a worthy man, and my friend, but I am afraid you are not a Christian! What can do better for you than offer up, in your presence, a prayer to the Great God, that you may become a Christian in my sense of the word?' Instantly he fell on his knees, and put up a fervent prayer; when he got up, he caught hold of his hand, with great earnestness, and cried, Doctor, you do not say Amen.' The Doctor looked foolishly, but after a pause, cried,' Amen.' Johnson said, My dear Doctor, believe a dying man, there is no salvation but in the sacrifice of the Lamb of God; go home, write down my prayer, and every word I have said, and bring it me to-morrow.' Brocklesby did so. "A friend desired he would make his will; and as Hume, in his last moments, had made an impious declaration of his opinions, he thought it would tend to counteract the poison, if Johnson would make a public confession of his faith in his will. He said he would; seized the pen with great earnestness, and asked what was the usual form of beginning a will? His friend told him. After the usual forms, he wrote, I offer up my soul to the great and merciful God; I offer it full of pollution, but in full assurance that it will be cleansed in the blood of my Redeemer.' And for some time he wrote on with the same vigour and spirit as if he had been in perfect health. When he expressed some of his former dread of dying, a friend said, If you, Doctor, have these fears, what is to become of me and others?' Oh! Sir, said he, I have written piously, it is true; but I have lived too much like other men. consolation to him, however, in his last hours, that he had never written in derogation of religion or virtue. He talked of his death and funeral at times with great composure. On the Monday morning, he fell into a sound sleep, and continued in that state for twelve hours, and then died without a groan. It was a "No action of his life became him like the leaving it. His death makes a kind of era in literature; piety and goodness will not easily find a more able defender, and |