66

of the learned," is even less in favour of any such idea-far from requiring it. But, again; this theory is not a safe one. For if in ch. 1. 4, the Body as well as the Head be meant, then it is the Body as well as the Head that says, ver. 2, 3, Is my hand shortened at all. I clothe the heavens in blackness." Nay, but more, Professor Alexander goes the length of saying, that in ch. lxi. 1, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because Jehovah hath anointed me," &c. Christ is not the direct and only subject of the prophecy; there is a secondary reference to the prophets as representatives of Israel. And this he defends by such blended references as he thinks he finds in what we quoted, chap. xlix. But how, it may be asked, does he deal with a passage like ch. lii. 13, and ch. liii. Just by applying the arbitrary rule, viz., that the idea of the Body recedes and that of the Head becomes exclusively conspicuous, when the terms imply freedom from imperfection, deity, or infinite merit! (p. 50, vol. ii.) Now, is it not plain that this rule is most capricious? It is unlike Professor Alexander's careful and solid mode of interpretation in all other cases. He lays down the principle of settling the meaning of terms, not by the usage of language, nor even by its context, but by a petitio principii (as an opponent might justly call it) to the effect that the same words must mean different things, because of an a priori difficulty in supposing them all to refer to one and the same subject only. We do not see what is to hinder an evil-minded commentator applying the principle to ch. lii. 12, and to destroy the view of a suffering Saviour, by blending all that is spoken of him, and all the expiatory work that follows, with the Body-if "my servant" or "servant of the Lord" may be thus interchanged. And once more, it is unauthorised. It is an hypothesis to get rid of some few difficulties, but an hypothesis unsupported by a shadow of proof from Scripture itself. We were amazed beyond measure at Professor Alexander's attempting to adduce the authority of Paul and Barnabas in ch. xlix. 6. He actually asserts that Paul and Barnabas in Acts xiii. 47, assumed his principle! And where does he find this said? Why, they said to the Jews, "It was necessary that the Word of God should first have been spoken to you; but seeing ye put it from you, and judge yourselves unworthy of everlasting life, lo! we turn to the Gentiles, for so hath the Lord commanded us, saying, I have set thee to be a light of the nations, that thou shouldst be for salvation to the ends of the earth." He lays the stress upon "for so has the Lord COMMANDED US, as if that meant that the person addressed in the prophecy, "I have set thee," were the complex person, the Head and the Body. Does he not see that the apostle's

words lead to a very different view? They say to this effect

We find in prophecy that Christ was to be sent first to the tribes of Israel, but we also find that this field of labour was not to be the only one; nay, we find the sending of Messiah to the tribes of Israel called a "light thing." We infer, therefore, that it is the Lord's will and command that it be preached to the wide world; and so indeed we find it written, "I have set thee for a light to the Gentiles." It is not at all in the "Thee" that they find their authority; they find it in the scope of the prophecy as a declaration of Messiah being first sent to Israel, and then to the wide world. We were scarcely less amazed to find Professor Alexander again claiming in support of his hypothesis Paul's authority in 2 Cor. v. 1, 2. Does he not see that Paul is there setting forth the grace of God, in connection with his statement in the close of the preceding chapter, "to wit, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself"? It is to this and some similar statements that he is referring, when he beseeches the Corinthians not to receive the grace of God in vain. And having said this, he follows up all by quoting a proof of God's gracious position toward sinners in his Son, and does so with a view to warn them by the quotation that their time for accepting his grace was the present moment. The passage he quotes is Isa. xlix. 8, where the Father says to the Son, "I have heard thee in a time accepted, and in the day of salvation have I succoured thee;" telling him that there would be acceptance and well-pleasedness on the Father's part. Having quoted this, Paul adds, "Behold, now is the accepted time." Now, in our day, has the sacrifice been offered, and presented, and is before the Father: Behold, then, your opportunity! How can these words, by any possibility, prove that Paul himself and his fellow-apostles were meant by "I have heard Thee!!" This is not a case at all resembling the Book of Psalms; for the object of such predictions as these of Isaiah was very different from the Psalms. The Psalms have no defined historical element, and are given as sacred poetry; Isaiah is specific and definite in his predictions. And while we have New Testament authority for interpreting the Psalms somewhat in the way of the Head and the Body, we have not one trace of authority for doing so in the case of Prophecies whose very object was to be special and full.

66

But while we thought it needful to express dissent from some points in these volumes, we feel certain that no work on Isaiah has appeared more fitted to be useful in elucidating this portion of the word. Students and pastors will often refer to its contents, to glean materials for a well-considered judgment on the various portions of this book. And few books of the Old Testament are likely to be more frequently resorted to and studied; not because

of the magnificence of its style, but because of the magnificent scenes and glorious truths that called for such a style. Here, if any where, to the practised discerning eye of Quintilian (looking only to the genius of the prophet, apart from inspiration), there would undoubtedly have appeared that "splendor rerum et magnitudo causarum, quæ et ipsa plurimum eloquentiæ præstant. Crescit enim amplitudine rerum vis ingenii; nec quisquam claram et illustrem orationem efficere potest nisi qui causam parem invenit."

ART. VI.-Memoir of the Life of ELIZABETH FRY. Edited by two of her Daughters. Vol. i. London, 1847.

In our last number, we offered a sketch of John Foster, the Christian who thought more and did less than any other of his day. Elizabeth Fry, we would call the Christian who did most, yet thought least of all her cotemporaries: and we would now devote a few pages to the delineation of her singular history. Let us not be misunderstood, however, as if, in thus broadly stating the antipodal character of those two individuals, we could be so unguarded as to insinuate, that the one was no more than an intellectual recluse, and the other nothing else than a benevolent enthusiast. The truth is, that all John Foster's imaginings had a practical tendency, though he wanted the energetic ardour that was necessary to bring them into action. And under all Elizabeth Fry's operations there may be traced a substratum of sagacious wisdom, though it is obviously the result of intuitive perception, rather than of well-linked argument. Still we are quite warranted in contrasting them as we have done, and saying of the Baptist, that in speculation he was pre-eminent-in philanthropy defective; of the Quaker, that, without adding one thought to our existing capital, she has filled earth and heaven with the fragrance of her holy deeds.

Mrs Fry, daughter of Mr Gurney of Earlham, and sister to the late J. J. Gurney, was born in 1780, at Norwich. Though bred as a Quaker, it is apparent that all the gratifications of refined and voluptuous luxury were at her command, and at once freely enjoyed and deeply relished until she had touched the verge of womanhood. Always pure, dignified, and affectionate, it was still the world she loved-the world in all its amusements, and frivolities, and hopes. And not only was God postponed to the things of the flesh; it would seem as if, for a season, He

was resisted and renounced on the principles of Infidelity. With much in her character that was amiable and bright, Mrs Gurney, the mother of Elizabeth Fry, was far from being decided in her religious views; among the Quakers of her period, too, the doctrine of the Trinity was much discountenanced; and the Society of Norwich was celebrated equally for its refinement and its scepticism. These were most deleterious influences; and Elizabeth Fry inhaled the contagion. How deep that virus penetrated, we are not informed. But neither herself nor her biographers conceal this fact, that for a time she adopted the views of those among whom she was revelling the days of her youth, and sought to make unbelief the handmaid of gaiety and mirth.

"When about fourteen, I had very sceptical, or deistical principles." "I was proud and vain till I was seventeen." "It was my lot in very early life to be much in company with Deists, and to be a rather warm advocate for their doctrines." "I must die! I shall die! Wonderful ! Death is beyond comprehension. To leave life and all its interests, and be almost forgotten by those we love. What a comfort must a real faith in religion be in the hour of death! I have a notion of such a thing, but I am sorry to say, I have no real faith in any sort of religion."

At seventeen, however, we can perceive a very important, though not a regenerative change upon Elizabeth Fry's feelings and purposes; for, whilst hitherto she had lived to herself, and seemed to think that she could do without God, she has left this striking memorandum of her experience from this date.

“I can say one thing-Since my heart was touched at the age of seventeen, I believe I never have awakened from sleep in sickness, or in health, by day or by night, without my first waking thought being, how best I might serve my Lord." P. viii.

The soul was touched. The Father had begun to draw, though it was still, and long after, the day of small things. Elizabeth Fry did feel that the world had no water for the thirst of the inner man, no occupation, any more than peace, for her venturous spirit. And it is worthy of being mentioned, as showing God's sovereignty, not only in the objects of his favour, but likewise in the selection of the instruments wherewith he works, that the change of which we have been speaking, was in part due to the friendly counsels of a Papist, Mr Pritchford, and partly to the warm-hearted kindness of Mrs Schimmelpenninck, the Moravian. The wedge that was to separate Elizabeth Fry from a world of hilarity and fashion, had been inserted. It was William Savery, a Quaker from America, however, that drove it home. This man, though a close-buttoned Friend, seems to have been a devoted Christian; and the mild asceticism of his character ope

rated like a charm on Miss Gurney. From the day she heard him preach, "her love of pleasure and the world seemed gone," and she could touchingly add, "I have had a faint light spread over my mind." Before this, she could say, Before this, she could say, "even if I thought all the Bible was true, I do not think I could make myself feel it." But now she writes, "William Savery has given me a stimulant to virtue." To-day I have felt that there is a God." "I have longed for virtue. I hope to be truly virtuous." feel that there is a God and Immortality. Happy, happy,

thought!"

ing extract

66

But her state of mind will be best seen in the follow

"Since I was fourteen years old, I had very deistical principles. I seldom or never thought of religion, and altogether I was a negatively good character, and having naturally good dispositions, had not much to contend with. I gave way freely to the weakness of youth. I was flirting, idle, and rather proud and vain, till I was seventeen. I found I wanted a better stimulus to virtue. I felt my mind capable of better things; but I could not exert it till several of my friends wished I would read books on Christianity. I said, till I felt the want of religion myself, I would not read books of that kind; but if ever I did, I would judge clearly for myself by reading the New Testament, and when I had seen for myself, I would then see what others said. About this time I never missed, I believe, a week, or a few nights, without dreaming. I was nearly being washed away by the sea-sometimes in one way, and sometimes in another—and I felt all the terror of being drowned, or hope of being saved. At last I dreamed it so often, that I told many of the family what a strange dream I had, and how near I was being lost. After I had gone on this way for some months, William Savery came from America to Norwich. I had begun to read the Testament with reflections of my own, and he suddenly opened, as it were, my eyes to see religion. But again, they almost closed." I went on dreaming the dream. The day when I felt I had really and truly got true and real faith, that night I dreamed the sea was coming, as usual, to wash me away, but I was beyond its reach. Since that night, I do not remember having dreamed the dream. All I can say is, I admire it; I am glad I have had it, and I have a sort of faith in it. It may be the work of chance, but I do not think it is. What a blessed thought to think it comes from heaven." P. 46.

This is not the only place in which Elizabeth Fry introduces her Dream, and indicates the weight she must have attached to it. It evidently left permanent effects upon her mind, and instead of smiling upon it as a feminine hallucination, we would rather view it as among "the all things" which wrought unitedly for her good, by quickening her spiritual susceptibility. For shortly after, we find her writing, "if I give way to the religious feelings to which I am inclined-and I believe much in inspiration-I feel confident that I should find true humility