Art. IX. Eighteen Sermons; or short and plain Discourses for the Use of Families. Vol. I. By the Rev. Thomas Knowles, B. A. Curate of Humberstone, in the County of Lincoln. 8vo. pp. xiv. 256. Price 6s. Scatcherd. 1810.

WE recently recommended to the Christian public, four sermons of this respectable author, on ، Satan's Devices * , and it is with pleasure we now introduce to them this useful volume of 'Family Discourses,' then announced to be in the press. The design of Mr. K. was to supply ، the want of a set of sermons, composed by some clergyman of the established church, adapted to the use of families, both as to brevity and plainness of language, exhibiting, at the same time, those doctrines of the gospel which are so essential to the conversion of sinners, and to the edification of the righteous; and enforcing all those duties to God and man which are so inseparably connected with the principles of the Christian religion.'

It must be acknowledged that publications of this description are not numerous. To adapt the most important instructions to the capacities of minds illiterate and unpractised in reflection, and at the same time to avoid every thing offensive to persons of taste, is no easy task; nor is the labour, although successful, very likely to obtain that reward for which the majority, even of reverend authors, are induced to write,the commendations of the learned and ingenious few being in too many instances preferred to the edification of the rustic multitude. Yet, as the souls of these are as valuable, and as much endangered as those of others;-as prejudice may prevent them from availing themselves of the useful works of nonconformity; and, as the prospect of success is much greater among them, than aniong the literary and the rich, the object is clearly important, and has peculiar claims on the benevolent and pious part of the established clergy. The volume before us, is the first of three that were projected, ، each containing eighteen sermons, which would have furnished one sermon for each Sunday in the year, including also one for Christmas-day, and one for Good-Friday; but the time required for the preparation of such discourses, and the expence of publication, forbid the prosecution of this design, at least for the present.' Thus the object of our author was extensive. It comprised a complete course of religious instruction; a body of doctrinal and practical theology for the use of persons in common life. How far this will be accomplished, it would be yet premature to judge. The topics discussed in this volume are useful, but miscellaneous; and

* E. R. Vol. VI. p. 276.

we cannot, indeed, but regret, that greater attention was not paid to order and mutual dependance in the selection and arrangement of them. The texts, too, are not so chosen as always to avoid going more than once over the same ground; although the scenery, is each time in some degree varied. The subjects and texts are as follows:

Sermon I. On Abraham's example-a pattern to the heads of families. Gen. xviii. 19. Sermon II. On delaying to be religious. 1 Kings xviii. 21. Sermon III. On confession of sin. Prov. xxviii. 13. Sermon IV. On an early remembrance of God. Eccles. xii. 1. Sermon V. On Christ-what he is made to believers. 1 Cor. i. 30, 31. Sermon VI. On the Sabbath. Ex. xx. 8. Sermon VII. On repentance and remission of sins. Luke xxiv. 47. Sermon VIII. On the one thing needful. Luke x. 42. Sermon IX. On God's omnipresence. Ps. cxxxix. 3. Sermon X. On eternal life. John xvii. 3. Sermon XI. On the deceitfulness of sin. Heb. iii. 13. Sermon XII. On faith. 1 Cor. xv. 2. Sermon XIII. On the use of afflictions. Heb. xii. 11. Sermon XIV. On the new birth. John. iii. 8. Sermon XV. On the balm of Gilead; or a sure remedy for the wounds of sin. Jer. viii. 22. Sermon XVI. On the perseverance of the righteous. Job xvii. 9. Sermon XVII. On the Sacrament. 1 Cor. xi. 28. Sermon XVIII. On the duty and reward of servants. Eph. vi. 8.

These texts our author has illustrated happily and concisely. His plans are remarkably simple and natural; his diction plain, but not coarse; his style concise and unembarrassed, and generally perspicuous and correct; his sentiments agreeable to the articles he has subscribed, and his whole strain suitably practical. Ease and propriety, indeed, are more predominant than vigour, ingenuity, or pathos; but there are many affectionate appeals, short and pointed interrogatories, faithful warnings, and earnest persuasions. As there is great equality of composition throughout, it is of little consequence from what part we select one or two specimens. The following is from Sermon III.

There is such a strange propensity in mankind to justify themselves, that they will hardly acknowledge, that they are guilty of any particular sin whatever. If you accuse them of being sinners, in general terms, they will, perhaps, allow that they are so. But if you charge them with any particular sin, they will either deny the charge altogether, or they will give it a different name, or throw the blame upon some other person. Covetousness is often excused under the names of frugality and necessity. Murder is sometimes sanctioned under the name of honour. Anger and revenge are called a proper spirit. Lewdness and, whoredom are termed gallantry. Profaneness and swearing are called genteel. Art and cunning are called ingenuity. And he who gains a fortune by fraud and ex

tortion is called a clever man. Thus men 66 put darkness for light, and light for darkness," and impose upon themselves and others, by calling things by wrong names, and making vices appear as virtues.' p. 32.

In Sermon XV. our author thus replies to the question why mankind are not all recovered from the disease that sin has brought upon them.'

Two reasons, indeed, may be given, why people continue under the power of their sins. The first is; They are not sensible of their state. There are but very few indeed, who seriously consider it. Many come into the world, and live so engaged in the business and pleasures of it, as to neglect to inquire for what end they were created; and what will become of them when they die? The thought, that they are sinners,→→→ that they are accountable creatures and, that there is a God, seldom enters their minds: and, therefore, they live insensible of their danger, Thus, they go on in a state of ease and unconcern, under the most destructive and ruinous malady; and, though a remedy is provided, they make no use of it; because they are ignorant of their disease. "They that are whole need not a physician, but they that are sick." 207.

pp. 206,

'Another reason, why persons are not recovered from their disease of sin, is; Because they do not apply the proper remedy. Many are sen sible, that they are sinners; and would willingly have their disorder removed; but, they make use of improper medicines. They try to heal themselves by their own good deeds, and charitable actions; instead of applying only the blood of Christ, to relieve their wounded conscience. Like the Jews of old, "being ignorant of God's righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, they do not submit themselves to the righteousness of God." And, on this account, “their wound is healed slightly," it breaks out afresh; and their troubles return, This, I think, is, perhaps, the case with some of you. You know that you "have left undone things which you ought to have done; and done those things which you ought not to have done;" and, therefore, you have some dread of the anger of God. Now, the natural view, which you have of the way to obtain the divine favor is, by repentance and amendment; but this is not the scriptural view of the matter. Though repentance and amendment do always accompany a sinner's return to the favour of God; they are not the means of procuring it. It is only the blood of Christ, which has merit enough for this. And, because you do not depend upon this blood, (and upon it only,) for the pardon of your sins, and your acceptance with God, the sense of your guilt still remains, because your best deeds are imperfect. Notwithstanding your repentance and amendment, you are troubled with many doubts and fears; because you are sensible of your many and great failings. If, therefore, you would be delivered from this "spirit of bondage to fear," you must rest simply on the merits of Christ's blood. For it was shed for this purpose; "that through death, he might destroy him, that had the power of death, that is the devil; and deliver them, whe through fear of death were all their life-time subject to bondage."? Pp. 206-209.

The work is, on the whole, printed neatly and correctly, although a few inaccuracies have escaped observation. From the very respectable list of subscribers appended, the author we presume will no longer be deterred from the prosecution of his design by the consideration of expense.' We shall therefore expect the two succeeding volumes.

Art. X. The Influences of Sensibility: a Poem, in Three Parts. 8vo. pp. 64. Price 4s. Mawman, 1810.

AN alarming annonce indeed! and our first care in perusing it, the reader may be sure, was to provide an extra supply of pocket handkerchiefs. Never, alas, was precaution more unnecessary. Like the lion by trade a tailor, our author is formidable only in externals. He has treated the tender feelings with singular humanity; and his performance, to do him justice, is much less lachrymal than soporific.

Critics, it is true, are stigmatized with being professionally dull, and are hard hearted to a proverb. But there is no necessity for availing ourselves of this enviable privilege on the present occasion. We think our indifference may be fairly accounted for on other grounds. In the first place, we are by no means sure that we comprehend the author's design. To the confusion of those harinless drudges the lexicogra phers, he explains sensibility as being that principle which invests every thing that is proposed to the imagination with attraction.' This, it must be confessed, is taking ample room and verge enough.' How simple- invests with attraction!' How precise-every thing! according to which the man who is violently in love with the archetype of a pudding, is henceforth to be considered as a person of prodigious sensibility. With submission, however, our author would have been equally successful in his mollifying intentions, had he curtailed a little of the exuberance of this principle;' even although such curtailment might have hazarded his discussion on marriage and celibacy, or cut down his description of creation and the deluge. No rule in composition is more important, or can be violated with less impunity, than that of convenientia locis. A perpetual succession of unappropriate images, is sure first to distract and eventually to fatigue. To our imagination, the author's plan is invested' with all the attractions' of disorder, notwithstanding the following introductory notification, which, after divers attempts to comprehend, we turn over to the more patient sagacity of our readers: The order into which the subject naturally branched

may be thus explained (!); first its general effects, which include pity, sympathy, and benevolence: its sensitive pleasures, intellectual delights, and moral promotions.' This we suppose is intended for fine writing. It will certainly pass current for nothing else.

Another cause which tends considerably to diminish the 'influences' of this poem, is a want of clearness in the thoughts, which sometimes border on unmeaning rant, and are sometimes nearly allied to inconsistency. We have not time for discussion, and shall therefore tantalize our readers with a single extract, in which they will find both these desiderata combined. Rant first;

Far happier they who freed from every claim,
Extend to all an universal flame;

In full diffusion yield to all mankind

The heart which no peculiar choice can bind.'

Barbara, celarent, darii, ferio, baralipton !-facit indignatio versum-this is the very ecstacy of nonsense. It exceeds even the worn out cant of the pseudo-philanthropists. They talked, indeed, of the incompatibility between a regard to the whole, and a love for its parts; but then they had at least the grace to represent the man who yielded his heart to all mankind, instead of bestowing his affections where he might expect reciprocation, as encountering a painful struggle between inclination and duty, and making a meritorious sacrifice of private interest to public good. We now learn that this is the way also to be happy:

Far happier they who freed from every claim,
Extend to all an universal flame.'

We were for some time puzzled to discover the congruity of these metaphors, till at last we luckily thought of a runaway bedlamite grasping a fire-brand. It is but fair, however, to permit our author to exemplify for himself.

And such there are whose names the muse would deem
The fairest honour that attends her theme!

But genuine merit its own claims repays
And consanguinity forbids the praise;

Enough that numerous friends their worth declare,
And tutor'd children love their guardian care.

This it is to be freed from every claim,' to be fully diffused,' and bound by no peculiar choice.' Friends! children! consanguinity!

Our last remark regards the phraseology of this poem, harmonizing, as it does admirably, with the indistinctness and confusion of the no-meaning it is employed to invest.' It is