upon the inferiority of mental attainments to piety, as if one part of our nature were to be rejected upon our becoming Christians, and piety and sanctification could be predicated only of the emotions ! How strong, yet how true is the expression of Dr. Young :

“ A Christian is the highest style of man." and when Christianity developes all her power, it will be seen that the whole character of man will be wrought upon, and his sanctified intellect conjoined with a holy heart, and raised by discipline and cultivation, and by the love of Christ constraining him, will bring him to his original destinationbut a little lower than the angels. If it is ever proper to set the servant before his lord, as an object of admiration and imitation, let us study the character of the Evangelist John. Remember the proofs of his noble intellect, his subdued temper, his zeal, his constancy, his decision, and his affectionate heart. In him we have a pattern of Christian character upon which the Saviour bestowed his highest approbation. What honor did his Lord and Master confer upon this disciple ! He was selected as most worthy to receive and communicate the Revelation of the coming ages, of the great and dreadful day, of the heavenly world, its multitude, and their worship. Like the evening star, with which the sun leaves the brightness of his glory when he goes to rest, did he receive from his Saviour exceeding glory; and who can conceive of the soft yet brilliant lustre with which he now beautifies heaven ! -Am I a Christian ? Am I a minister of Jesus ? Let me love and serve Christ as he did, and strive to improve the powers and faculties which he has given me, that I may be meet for an inheritance with this saint in light!


There is a beauty in the character of Jeremy Taylor, which has more than once recalled the moral image of " that disciple.” Some of the great men of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, are men of towering and lofty intellects, whose presence awakens awe, but never stirs the gentle affections of the heart. Taylor on the contrary is like a vine, whose noble root threads up its strength into a thousand tendrils, and sends them through the trellis-work, and over the windows, to shade while it shares domestic love. You are never made to feel, while reading him, that you are an inferior being. His writings indeed abound in conceits, but he is not



conceited, and his frequent accumulation of learned references, and as some perhaps might find it in their hearts to call it, his pedantry, is amusing, rather than offensive. Indeed, the man who would not smile rather than frown at Taylor's parade of learning, we should think was one who would feel contempt rather than pleasure in looking upon the harmless pomp and show of his child's playhouse.

Jeremy Taylor was the son of a barber, and a lineal descendant of the famous Rowland Taylor, the martyr, in the time of James I. He was born in the year 1613, in Trinity parish, Cambridge. He was baptized by the name of Jeremiah, but his personal appearance and manners gained for him the more familiar and affectionate name of Jeremy. His father is said to have been “reasonably learned,” which may be accounted for in the fact that his profession in those days included the practice of surgery and medicine. We read in Don Quixote of the barber being sent for by the knight to let blood. Hence the modern barber's pole, a humble and rude imitation of the badge of Æsculapius, (the god of physicians, and himself physician to the Argonauts,) who is represented with a staff and a wreathed serpent. Of his father it is also said, that he “solely grounded his children in grammar and the mathematics." At thirteen years of age he entered Caius college as a sizar, or poor scholar. No record remains of his eminence at the university, or of his having received any literary distinction. Having been admitted to the degree of Master of Arts, he was employed by a man who was supplying the pulpit at St. Paul's cathedral, to preach for him for a short time. The beauty of his person, and withal his youthful appearance, increased without doubt by the venerable place in which he stood, attracted great notice, and his rich mellifluous style gained many admirers. He was soon after spoken of in high terms, to Laud, who sent for him that he might hear him preach, and then bestowed great praise upon his performance, but objected on account of his extreme youth, (he being only twenty years old,) to his preaching in London. In his most characteristic and happy manner, he humbly begged his Grace to pardon that fault, promising that if he lived he would amend it. Laud, however, thought that the indications of great talent in him were such, that it would be better for him and for the world to pursue his studies. He was accordingly sent to All Souls college, Oxford. It is not our intention to follow him in the history of his VOL. I.


life, connected as it was with the political history and the violent controversies of the times. We are more concerned with him as a man of genius, a Christian, and especially as a Christian minister. He entered warmly into the disputes of Episcopalians and monarchists, against the Presbyterians and republicans, taking the side of the former with great zeal and fidelity to bis sovereign. Connected as he thus was with the government, he was of course involved in the frequent reverses of its fortunes, being now the object of favor and patronage, and again of democratic revenge. He was several times imprisoned, and in this we notice one of the causes which led to the formation of his Christian character. He was made early to see the instability of earthly things, and the vanity of dependence upon the great. His trials and sufferings softened his character, and fitted him to weep with those that weep. His wife died early with an infant son whom he had named William, after his patron, Laud. He was almost entirely dependent for his living upon the benevolence of eminent and wealthy men, in whom indeed he found the delicacy with the magnanimity of true kindness, while without doubt bis sense of dependence induced a pensive and melancholy habit of feeling. But it is this which gives his writings much of their beauty, and his character that lowly and unpretending appearance that wins upon every beholder, and excites a mingled feeling of familiar confidence, and of the respect which is shown to sorrow. His afflictions were greatly sanctified both to his mind and heart. In the midst of his severest trials his genius put forth some of its happiest efforts, and his heart was warmed with its holiest devotion. The following letter was written at a time when he was oppressed with pecuniary difficulties, as we infer from several of

expressions. It is interesting to observe in this and many of his letters to his friends, a great solicitude and watchfulness for their spiritual concerns.

The sentence which we have marked with italics, is an instance, and contains a solemn admonition to one who has recovered from sickness. The conclusion is of the most touching simplicity.

Deare BROTHER,—Thy letter was most welcome to me, bringing the happy news of thy recovery. I had notice of thy danger, but watched for this happy relation, and had layd wayte with Royston to enquire of Mr. Rumbould. I hope I shall not neede to bid thee be carefull for the perfecting thy health, and to be fearful of a relapse. Though I am very much, yet thou thy

self art more concerned in it. But this I will remind thee of, that thou be infinitely (careful] to perform to God those holy promises which I suppose thou didst make in thy sicknesse ; and remember what thoughts thou hadst then and bear them along upon thy spirit all thy life-time. For that which was true then is so still, and the world is really as vain a thing as thou didst then suppose it. I durst not tell thy mother of thy danger, (though I heard of it,) till, at the same time, I told her of thy recovery. Poore woman! she was troubled and pleased at the same time, but your letter did determine her. I take it kindly that thou hast writt to Bowman. If I had been in condition you should not have beene troubled with it; but, as it is, both thou and I must be content. Thy mother sends her blessing to thee and her little Mally. So doe I, and my prayers to God for you both. Your little cozens are your servants; and I am “ Thy most affectionate and endeared Brother,

66 JER. TAYLOR. “ November 24, 1643."


In the private history of Taylor, one may see the method which divine Providence frequently takes with a minister, to qualify him for greater usefulness. This is repeated and sore affliction. The human character is not complete in any one, till sanctified affliction has exerted an influence upon it.

There is no minor key to the feelings, without affliction. This is a world of such continual liability to sorrow, death, like a great invader, seems to be so entirely unconscious of the private bonds by which his victim is united to the hearts of kindred, it is so often the case that in a garden there is a sepulchre, that no one can understand the feelings of a mourner, which a stranger intermeddleth not with, unless he has himself had the fountains of the great deep broken up, in his own soul. It is not necessary that we should have been in the same circumstances of affliction, in thize with a mourner; any kind of affliction, which has exerted a proper influence upon the soul, qualifies a man for sympathetic communion with grief. There is hardly any thing more interesting, in the life of Christ, than this: that in all things he was made like unto his brethren, that he might be a merciful, as well as faithful high priest. “It became Him, by whom are all things, in bringing many sons and daughters to glory,” to make Him, who had undertaken their salvation, thoroughly qualified by suffering. The qualification of the man Christ Jesus, to be the friend of suffering humanity, consisted in his enduring, in his own person, every form of sorrow. He, too, had private friendships ; for Jesus

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loved Mary, and Martha, and their brother Lazarus. In their dwelling, he sought repose and refreshment for his spirit, and when Lazarus died, behold him weeping at his grave! Jesus was a brother; he was also a son—and haying sustained these relations, is eminently qualified to sympathize with an afflicted brother, sister, or child. The scene at the cross, where he looked down upon a weeping mother, is exquisite beyond expression. In all the various relations of life, which are susceptible of disappointment and grief, in all the scenes of human misery, Christ has been our forerunner: that is, He has gone through them before us, and we cannot, therefore, tell him any afiliction, which he cannot, from his own experience, understand. He bore our griefs and carried our sorrows; and how expressive and beautiful the designation of the Saviour by the prophet-Man of Sorrows! The servant of Christ, therefore, who has seen affliction, and has improved it, is, like his Master, thus far fitted to be successful in the work of administering comfort to the weary and heavy laden of his flock. Sometimes God lays repeated sorrows upon a minister, and he knows not, at the time, why he is thus smitten and afflicted. At last, he finds that it was for the sake of his people, and that the effect of his sorrows, in his own sanctification, has been the spiritual benefit of others. Who can adopt the language of the apostle, in view of this truth, and say, THEREFORE, I ENDURE ALL THINGS FOR THE ELECT'S SAKE, THAT THEY ALSO MAY OBTAIN THE SALVATION WHICH IS IN Christ Jesus, WITH ETERNAL GLORY? It was the language of Christ himself, in reference to his people, “ And for their sakes, I SANCTIFY MYSELF !” Who can love the people of God so much, as to live a holy life, for their sake, and especially, be willing that God should afflict him, if necessary, for their good ? This is the spirit of a Saviour. If any one feels that he is willing thus to endure all things for the elect's sake, and thus drink of the Saviour's cup, and be baptized with his baptism, he is an honored servant, for God will doubtless use him in bringing many sons and daughters unto glory. In this connection, we copy the following letters of Taylor—the first being occasioned by the death of his two children, and the other written to a friend under the same affliction.

“Deare Sır,-I know you will either excuse or acquit, or at least pardon mee that I have so long seemingly neglected to

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