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state had not yet attained such maturity as to afford satisfaction to themselves, or to the officers of the church. But among those received on the first examination was the eminent Christian, whose story is here recorded, and who was to be, for more than sixty

years, one of the brightest ornaments and most useful members of the church with which she now became connected. [To be continued.]

Died in London, on the 13th Sept. The Right Hon. Charles Fox, Esq.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

Memoirs of President Davies, in continuation, were received too late for this number.

J. C. will perceive that we have promptly complied with his request. Our pages are open to candid and useful discussions.

THEOPHILUS has very happily exhibited the perfection of Christ's example; and proved from that example the divinity of the gospel. This respected Correspondent is requested to add another number, presenting the proof of Christ's true divinity, which may be fairly deduced from the perfection of his moral character. This is a topic of argument to which several excellent writers have referred, but which none have exhausted.

T. on Infidelity, is in type for the next number.

The acknowledgements to SALVIAN, made in several former numbers of the Panoplist, render our present apology difficult. It must be perceived by intelligent readers, who have noticed past intimations to Salvian, and our delaying to publish his communication, that the expediency of its publication was not obvious. The Editors, after deliberately weighing the subject, have to request their ingenious and esteemed correspondent to excuse them, if they now express their full persuasion that the interest of the Panoplist forbids the admission of metaphysical discussion. Aware of entering on this ground, the Editors, with some hesitancy, admitted the 5th letter of CONSTANS, entire, and subjoined a note to guard against improper inferences. The well written performance of Salvian would probably call from Constans a laboured and minute reply; and there doubtless would be a wish on both sides to extend the controversy to an unprofitable length. Our readers expect to find in the Panoplist, the great principles of evangelical truth stated and defended in the plainest and most intelligible manner; and were metaphysical communications introduced, they would justly charge us with a departure from our professed original design. The public, we hope, will do us the justice to believe, that this resolution is adopted, not because we wish to discountenance the most free and thorough discussion; but because we apprehend, that the introduction of this controversy would not tend to the accomplishment of our prime objects, which are the elucidation and defence of the peculiar doctrines of the gospel, and the consequent advancement of Christian piety and morality.

Our correspondent, who handed us the communication concerning Bowdoin College, is informed that it did not contain the Address of the President, and is therefore omitted.

We received two reviews from different hands, of Dr. Nott's Sermon. Though we have adopted neither entire, we hope both will be satisfied. LEIGHTON is received. We thank him for his seasonable communication. We have added a half-sheet to this number, and omitted several reviews, to give room for interesting intelligence.

The addition to our list of more than sixty new subscribers, during the last month, animates us to pursue our arduous labours, with increased alacrity and zeal.

The profits arising from the sales of the first volume of the Panoplist, and the uses to which they have been appropriated, will be announced in the next or succeeding number of this work.

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No. 18.]

OR,

THE CHRISTIAN's ARMORY.

NOVEMBER, 1806. [No. 6. VOL. II.

Biography.

MEMOIRS OF PRESIDENT DAVIES.

(Continued from page 160.)

HAVING detailed the leading incidents of the life of Mr. Davies, we will pause, and contemplate some of the prominent and most interesting features of his mind and heart.

The Father of spirits had endued him with the richest intellectual gifts; a vigorous understanding, a glowing imagination, a fertile invention, united with a correct judgment, and a retentive memory. None, who read his works, can doubt that he possessed a portion of original genius, which falls to the lot of few. He was born for great undertakings. He was destined to excel in whatever he undertook. "The unavoidable consciousness of native power," says Dr. Finley," made him bold and enterprising. Yet the event proved that his boldness arose not from a partial, groundless self-conceit, but from true selfknowledge. Upon fair and candid trial, faithful and just to himself, he judged what he could do; and what he could, when called to it, he attempted; Vol. II. No. 6.

II

and what he attempted, he accomplished."

How pleasing to contemplate a mind of such elevation and energy, divested of the pride of talents and of science, moulded into the temper of the gospel, and consecrating all its powers and exertions to the promotion of religion!" I desire," says he, in a letter to his intimate friend, Dr. Gibbons, "seriously to devote to God and my dear country, all the labours of my head, my heart, my hand, and pen; and if he pleases to bless any of them, I hope I shall be thankful, and wonder at his condescending grace. O, my dear brother! could we spend and be spent, all our lives, in painful, disinterested, indefatigable service for God and the world, how serene and bright would it render the swift approaching eve of life! I am labouring to do a little to save my country, and, which is of much more consequence, to save souls from death, from that tremendous kind of death, which a soul can

die. I have but little success of late; but, blessed be God, it surpasses my expectation, and, much more my desert. Some of my brethren labour to better purpose. The pleasure of the Lord prospers in their hands."

stupid. But when I had any little sense of things, I generally felt pretty calm and serene ; and death, that mighty terror, was disarmed. Indeed, the thought of leaving my dear family destitute, and my flock shepherdless, made me often start back, and cling to life; but in other respects, death appeared a kind of indifferency to me. Formerly I have wished to live longer, that I might be better prepared for heaven; but this consideration had but very little weight with me, and that for a very unusual reason, which was this :-After long trial, I found this world is a place so unfriendly to the growth of every thing divine and heavenly, that I was afraid, if I should live longer, I should be no better fitted for heaven than I am. Indeed, I have had hard yany hopes of ever making any great attainments in holiness while in this world, though I should be doomed to stay in it as long as Methuselah. I see other Christians indeed around me make some progress, though they go on with but a snail-like motion. But when I consider that I set out about twelve years old, and what sanguine hopes I then had of my future progress, and yet that I have been almost at a stand ever since, I am quite discour aged. O my good Master, if I may dare to call thee so, I am afraid I shall never serve thee much better on this side the region of perfection. The thought grieves me; it breaks my heart, but I can hardly hope better. But if I have the least spark of true piety in my breast, I shall not always labour under this complaint. No, my Lord, I

Mr. Davies' religion was, in principle and spirit, purely and eminently evangelical. It brought him to the foot of the cross, to receive salvation as a free gift. It penetrated his soul with the profoundest reverence for a pardoning God, and the tenderest gratitude to a dying Saviour. It engaged him in an ardent and vigorous pursuit of universal holiness, while, at the same time, it rendered him humble and dissatisfied with himself, amid his highest attainments. These traits of character are strongly illustrated by some passages in a letter to the friend above-mentioned, to whom he was accustomed to disclose the inmost recesses of his heart. Having spoken of a violent sickness, from which he was just recovering, he proceeds in this style: "Blessed be my Master's name, this disorder found me employed in his service. It seized me in the pulpit, like a soldier wounded in the field. This has been a busy summer with me. In about two months, I rode about five hundred miles, and preached about forty sermons. This affords me some pleasure in the review. But alas! the mixture of sin, and of many nameless imperfections that run through, and corrupt all my services, give me shame, sorrow and mortification. My fever made unusual ravages upon my understanding, and rendered me frequently delirious, and always

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shall yet serve thee; serve thee through an immortal duration; with the activity, the fervour, the perfection of the rapt seraph that adores and burns. I very much suspect this desponding view of the matter is wrong, and I do not mention it with approbation, but only relate it as an unusual reason for my willingness to die, which I never felt before, and which I could not suppress,

"In my sickness, I found the unspeakable importance of a Mediator, in a religion for sinners. I could have given you the word of a dying man for it, that JESUS whom you preach is indeed a necessary, and an all-sufficient Saviour, Indeed he is the only support for a departing soul. None but CHRIST, none but CHRIST. Had I as many good works as Abraham or Paul, I would not have dared build my hopes on such a quicksand, but only on this firm, eternal rock.

"I am rising up, my brother, with a desire to recommend him better to my fellow-sinners, than I have done. But alas! I hardly hope to accomplish it. He has done a great deal more by me already, than I ever expect. ed, and infinitely more than I deserved. But he never intended me for great things. He has beings both of my own, and of superior orders, that can perform him more worthy service. O! if I might but untie the latchet of his shoes, or draw water for the service of his sanctuary, it is enough for me. I am no angel, nor would I murmur because I am not."

Mr. Davies cultivated an intimate acquaintance with his own heart. He scrupulously brought

to the test the principles and motives of his actions, and severely condemned himself for every deviation from the perfect rule. Having been solicited to publish a volume of poems, he communicated to a friend the following ingenuous remarks: "What affords me the greatest discouragement, attended with painful reflections, in such cases, is the ambitious and selfish spirit I find working in me, and intermixing itself with all my most, refined and disinterested aims. Fame, for which some professedly write, is a strong, though a resisted temptation to me; and I often conclude, my attempts will never be crowned with any remarkable success, till the divine glory be more sincerely my aim, and I be willing to decrease, that Jesus may increase. It is easy to reason down this vile lust of fame; but oh! it is hard to extirpate it from the heart. There is a paper in Dr. Watts' miscellaneous thoughts, on this subject, which characterizes me, in this respect, as exactly as any thing I have seen; and a poem of his, entitled, Sincere Praise, is often the language of my heart. "Pride, that busy sin, Spoils all that I perform; Curst pride, that creeps securely in, And swells a little worm.

The very songs I frame Are faithless to thy cause; And steal the honours of thy name, To build their own applause."

But though rigid in judging himself, he was was exemplarily catholic in the opinions he formed of others. He entertained a high regard for many, who differed from him in various points of faith and practice. Taking a large and luminous survey of the

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field of religion, he accurately distinguished the comparative importance of things, and proportioned his zeal accordingly. While conscientiously tenacious on all great subjects, he was generously candid in points of minor consequence. Few indeed have so happily avoided the opposite extremes of bigotry and latitudinarianism. Few have exhibited so unwavering a zeal for evangelical truth, and the power of religion, yet in such uniform consistency with the sacred principles of love and meekness. His warm and liberal heart could never be confined within the narrow limits of a party. Real worth, wherever discovered, could not fail to engage his affection and esteem.

Truth he sought for its own sake, and loved for its native charms. The sentiments, which he embraced, he avowed with the simplicity of a Christian, and the courage of a man. Yet keeping his mind ever open to conviction, he retracted his opinions without reluctance, whenever they were proved to be mistakes: for he rightly judged that the knowledge of truth alone was real learning, and that attempting to defend an error, was but labouring to be igno

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was as ready to forgive injuries received, as solicitous to avoid offending others. His heart overflowed with tenderness and pity to the distressed; and in his generous eagerness to sup ply the wants of the poor, he of ten exceeded his ability. While thus eminent in his disposition to oblige, he was equally sensi. ble of the kindness of others; and as he could bestow with generosity, so he could receive without servility.

His deportment in company was graceful and genteel, with out ceremony. It united the grave with the pleasant, and the accomplished gentleman with the dignified and devout Christian.

He was among the brightest examples of filial piety. The virtues and example of his excellent mother made an indelible impression upon his memory and heart. While pouring bles sings on her name, and humbly styling himself, a "degenerate plant," he declared, not only that her early dedication of him to God had been a strong in. ducement to devote himself by his own personal act, but that he looked upon the most important blessings of his life as immediate answers to her prayers. As a husband, he was kind, tender, and cordial; mingling a genuine and manly fondness with a delicate respect.

As a parent, he felt all the affectionate, trembling solicitudes, which nature and grace could inspire. "There is nothing," he writes to his friend, "that can wound a parent's heart so deeply, as the thought that he should bring up children to dise honour his God here, and be miserable hereafter. I beg your

He possessed an ardent benevolence, which rendered him the delight of his friends, and the admiration of all, who knew him. The gentleness and suavity of his disposition were remarkable. One of his friends declared, that he had never seen him angry during several years of unbounded intimacy, though he had repeatedly known him to be ungenerously treated, He

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