O'er the celestial Sion high uplifted; While those with deep prophetic raptures gifted, Again-I see again The great victorious train, The martyr Army from their toils reposing: The blood-red robes they wear Empurpling all the air, And clasp'd the frowning headsman's knees, and said Thou know'st me: when thou laid'st on thy sick bed, Christ sent me there to wipe thy burning brow. There was an infant play'd about thy chamber, And thy pale cheek would smile and weep at once, Gazing upon that almost orphan'd child—Oh! by its dear and precious memory, Even their immortal limbs, the signs of I do beseech thee slay me first and wounds disclosing. Oh, holy Stephen! thou Art there, and on thy brow Hast still the placid smile it wore in dying, When under the heap'd stones in anguish lying Thy clasping hands were fondly spread to heaven, And thy last accents pray'd thy foes might be forgiven. Beyond! ah, who is there snowy hair? 'Tis he 'tis he, the Son of Man appearing! At the right hand of One, The darkness of whose throne That sun-eyed seraph host behold with awe and fearing. O'er him the rainbow springs, And spreads its emerald wings, Down to the glassy sea his loftiest seat o'er-arching. Hark-thunders from his throne, like steel-clad armies marching— The Christ! the Christ commands us to his home! Jesus, Redeemer, Lord, we come, we come, we come!"-Martyr, pp. 146-149. The last passage which we shall extract is the account given by an officer to the agitated prefect of Margaritas's death. It is highly wrought, and of the deepest interest. "OFFICER. Hear me but a while. She had beheld each sad and cruel death; And if she shudder'd, 'twas as one that strives With nature's soft infirmity of pity, One look to heaven restoring all her calmness; quickly : 'Tis that my father may not see my death.' CALLIAS. Oh cruel kindness! and I would have closed Thine eyes with such a fond and gentle pressure; I would have smoothed thy beauteous limbs, and laid My head upon thy breast, and died with thee. OLYBIUS. Good father! once I thought to call thee so, How do I envy thee this her last fondness; She had no dying thought of me--Go on. OFFICER. With that the headsman wiped from his swarth cheeks A moisture like to tears. But she, meanwhile, On the cold block composed her head, and cross'd Her hands upon her bosom, that scarce heaved, She was so tranquil; cautious, lest her garments Should play the traitors to her modest care. And as the cold wind touched her naked neck, And fann'd away the few unbraided hairs, Blushes o'erspread her face, and she look'd up As softly to reproach his tardiness: And some fell down upon their knees, some clasp'd Their hands, enamour'd even to adoration Of that half-smiling face and bending form. CALLIAS. But he-but he-the savage executioner OFFICER. He trembled. CALLIAS. Ha! God's blessing on his head! Save when that dastard did renounce his And the axe slid from out his palsied hand? faith, And she shed tears for him. Then led they forth cry Old Fabius. When a quick and sudden she sprang, Off-let me loose. Where goest thou? CALLIAS. To the Christian, To learn the faith in which my daughter died, And follow her as quickly as I may."- This beautiful drama then closes with the hymn of the Christians, whose numbers are swelled by a multitude of new converts, baptized, like Margarita herself, for the martyred saints, on the very Aceldama of their death. Antioch opens her gates to pour forth the tide of a stricken, astonished, and, in the end, converted people. They "Sing to the Lord-it is not shed in vain, The blood of martyrs! from its freshening rain High springs the church like some fount- The nations crowd beneath its branching Of its green leaves are kingly diadems made, And wrapt beneath its deep embosoming calm Earth sinks to slumber like the breezeless deep, And war's tempestuous vultures fold their wings and sleep." On the whole then, we regard Mr. Milman with very grateful emo tions, and, in times like the present; when the powers of the poet are so rarely called into exercise on subjects and for purposes like those which he has proposed for his attention, he deserves at our hands His three poems appear well calan unfeigned tribute of thanks. culated to further those interests the preface to one of his poems, he which we are glad to learn from subservience to them alone, our time considers so paramount, as that "in and talents can be worthily employgion." The Fall of Babylon and ed-the interests of piety and reli the Fall of Jerusalem will attest, to those who are led to the careful observance of these fearful signs only by the attractions of immortal verse, those authenticated truths, that "sin is a reproach to any people;" to professors of any religion natural, idolatrous, or revealed; that "the Scriptures of the prophets must be fulfilled;" and that although the pears tardy in its movements-the vengeance of an offended God ap"sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily"-yet at last that too, "at such an hour asmen "it will come and will not tarry," and think not." And then vain and feeble will be all the fastnesses in which the rebellious and stouthearted entrench themselves, they shall be "crushed as before the moth." Awfully insecure also is the deep sleep into which the indulgences of a wanshall "awake to shame and everton riot have plunged them; for they Justin Martyr, who has given a larger record of the persecutions to which the early Christians were subjected by the Roman government than any other writer, attributes to these very scenes his own conversion. He could not witness the calm intrepidity with which the Christians met their terrific and agonizing deaths, without a silent conviction, which at length strug-lasting contempt." gled into a public avowal, that the principles which could suggest such fortitude must be indeed worthy of adoption. The passage is in his first Apology, p. 50. Και γας αυτός εγω τοις Πλατωνος χαιρων didaya (exulting in the tenets of his philosophy) 6λopens an Xisiaves, ύρων δε αφοβες προς θάνατον, και παντα τα (αλλά) νομίζομενα φοβέρα, ενώνουν αδύνατον είναι εν κακια και φιληδονια υπαρχειν αυτές τίς γαρ φιλήδονος, η ακρατης, και ανθρωπίνων σαρκων βοραν αγαθον ηγέμηνος, δύναιτ' αν θανατον ασπάζεσθαι, όπως των αυτω αγαθων σερηθη αλλ' εκ εκ παντος ζην (μεν) αει την ενθαδε βίολην, και λανθάνειν της αρχονίας επειραίο εχ οτι γε εαυτον κατηγγέλη φονευθησομενον. 66 And with regard to the other work, the scene of which is laid in licentious Antioch and polluted Daphne-so licentious as to be shunned by any heathen who regarded his moral reputation, and so verb, “ Daphnicis moribus vivere" polluted as to give rise to the proGospel eminently displayed. Even yet even there was the power of the in this scene of effeminacy, voluptuousness, and sin, did a new name originate for its followers; for the disciples were first called Christians THE name of Henry Martyn is so well known in this country, and so universally beloved and respected, as almost to supersede the necessity of reviewing a work to which that name is prefixed. If eminent talent and distinguished piety can recommend a publication, Mr. Martyn's writings will, with men of candour and religion, stand in need of no further sanction: and discourses delivered by him in the discharge of his ministry, may, without hesitation, be put into the hands of any man as peculiarly valuable and instructive. Accordingly, the volume which now lies before us had scarcely issued from the press, before the opinion of the public was decisively pronounced: and the continually increasing demand for it serves to prove that that expectation has not been disappointed; and that the work, purchased by many persons, in the first instance, from respect to the character of the author, is now purchased by others on account of its own intrinsic acknowledged excellence. We deem it therefore unneces sary to do much more in this article than briefly to express our entire concurrence with the judgment, which the public has already decisively pronounced. Had the volume been revised for the press by the lamented writer himself, it is very possible that it would have appeared with a few verbal corrections, and, perhaps, with such other alterations as a preacher, retaining the substance of his sermon, thinks it usually expedient to adopt, when presenting his discourse to the public through the medium of the press. But we prefer, on the whole, these discourses just as they are: they appear to furnish an exact view of the author's feelings, when addressing his people as their minister, and of his characteristic manner as a Christian preacher. We seem to possess here the unlaboured and spontaneous effusions of his mind; the thoughts which naturally suggested themselves to him, and the words in which he naturally expressed them. We see him, as he was in his study and in the pulpit, plain and unaffected, but exhibiting marks of an original thinker, and a persuasive and powerful reasoner. The brief account given in the preface of his impressive and earnest appeals to the conscience will, by those that had the privilege of hearing him, readily be admitted as correct: it is just as applied to him before his departure to India; and certainly he was not less solemn and impressive, when spending his strength-not in vain-amidst his beloved countrymen, or the heathen, in the wide regions of pagan superstition. To those who never had the opportunity of witnessing his ministerial labours, these sermons alone will carry convincing evidence, that he laboured indeed as one that must give account; and that the expressive solemnity of his manner must have corresponded with that "power of holy love and disinterested earnestness in his addresses which commended itself to every man's conscience in the sight of God." The sermons are twenty in number; and of these only one, entitled “Christian India," was revised and published by the author. It contains the zealous testimony of Mr. Martyn in behalf of the British and Foreign Bible Society;-a testimony which will weigh more with all candid and intelligent persons than volumes of hostile controversy. The remaining nineteen sermons are upon important subjects of faith and practice; precisely of that description which an humble inquirer after truth would be anxious to hear, and a minister when he comes to a dying hour would wish that he had delivered. Their object is not to make men cunning in debate, but wise unto salvation: they inculcate the saving truths of revelation in the spirit of Christian zeal and love. sermon. By way of specimen of Mr. Martyn's usual style of treating a subject we will give the outline of his sixth It is on the deceitfulness of the heart, and may serve fairly to shew the plain and practical manner in which he seems generally to have addressed himself to the consideration of religious subjects. The text is Jer. xvii. 9: "The heart is deceitful above all things." The sermon commences thus "In what is here said concerning the deceitfulness of the human heart, it is supposed that there are many other things in the world deceitful: and very little experience is sufficient to convince us that the supposition is not without ground. "1. Men are deceivers. There is no man so wary and cautious in his dealings with his fellow-creatures, but he has found himself, at one time or other, over-reached. In all matters of exchange, buying and selling, lending money and paying it, labour and the remuneration for labour, there is generally a trial of skill on each side, which shall get the better of the other; and if their respective claims are finally adjusted, and they come to a fair agreement, it is rather because one is not an overmatch for the other, than because they wish that each should have his due. Fraud is not confined to the lower orders of men: great men also can be great deceivers: they make promises, and excite expectations; and when the time of fulfilment is come, it turns out that they meant nothing. Such is the state of things in society. The arm of brutal force being their greedy appetites by practising de tied up by law, men endeavour to satisfy ceits. "2. There are other things in the world that deceive, but not intentionally, such as riches, and pleasure, and honour. They never promise any thing: but we will have it that they do. We will give them a name, which, though they disown it, we obstinately persist in giving: and we continue calling them by their wrong mises; till, finding ourselves mistaken in names, and reasoning from fictitious prethe end, we call them deceivers. "In this sense, riches deceive. We imagine that riches will do every thing for us; and fancy that he that has wealth equal to his wishes, is in want of nothing. Yet riches can take to themselves wings and fly away; and leave their possessor with more wants than at first, and less ability to supply them. Or if they remain with him, it is seldom seen that he is happier than before, if so much so. Our desires multiply with the means of gratifying them; so that the rich man does not so much taste new pleasures, as provide for new wants. "3. There are some things that deceive us, which are neither in their nature fallacious, nor such as we wish to be deceived the defectiveness of our judgment; for about-things in which we mistake through instance, the providence of God. We expect that he will act in some particular way, not considering that he may have ends in view which are entirely unconnected with us, or with any thing that we have heard: so we often find that he acts quite otherwise than we expected, and we are in consequence deceived. "From a similar source, namely, our imperfection, arise those frequent disappointments which we meet with in our projects: our unwieldy schemes, in the course of time, come to nothing, because, with all our sagacity, we know nothing of the future. Hence also we form erroneous opinions of others: we have thought highly of some, whom we now know we were deceived in: we have condemned others, whom time has proved to be upright persons and our best friends. So liable are we to be imposed upon by appearances!" pp. 99–101. He proceeds next to shew, that, "It is humiliating to find what a deficiency of self-knowledge there is in others, who, of all men in the world, ought to know themselves best-those whom God, by his grace, hath called to knowledge and virtue. "This self-deception appears in many of our habits and opinions. We judge one another uncharitably; often unmercifully. Looking to the right hand and to the left of the church of God, we observe how foolish is this, and how wrong is that: not considering, that what others do, they may do to the Lord, as well as we who leave it undone; and, that what they may leave undone, they do it so to the Lord, as well as we who do it. (Rom. xiv. 6.) We are not now speaking of the sin of judging; but rather of the deceitfulness of the heart, in not letting us see the sinfulness of a censorious temper. We acknowledge that we must not judge, lest we be judged: yet we are always doing it -why? because we are so abominably proud: there is a secret belief that though it would be wrong in others to judge, we are privileged to do so, from our knowledge and general correctness. "The heart is never more deceitful, than in the report which it gives of our progress in Christian virtues. "It tells us, for instance, that we have zeal; which zeal is often no other than bitterness and ill temper. We are violent against the misconduct of others; not because they have sinned against God, but because they trouble and interfere with ourselves. We are zealous for Christ, and the spread of his Gospel, but cannot rejoice if the work be not done by ourselves and friends; nay, are often so wicked as to wish the work may not be done at all, if it cannot be done in our own way. Now if our zeal is of this nature, it is evidently pure worldliness. It is possible, nay, it is very easy, for our religious attachments to become in time so confined, that we shall seek the good of those of our own communion with no higher motive than men seek to aggrandize their families and connections; and, consequently, without any exercise of grace at all: yet our hearts will be telling us all the while that we are zealous for God. "We often think that we have love, when we have none. "If ye love them which love you, what thank have ye?' (Luke vi. 32.) If we can love those only who worldly man does: all friendships are think with us, we do no more than every formed in this way: similarity of sentiments, in politics or literature, brings men together-leaves no room for dissention-and is a reciprocal acknowledgment of each other's discernment. But Christian love is quite another thing: it needs not the impulse of selfish motives, but feels the attractive influence of the object: it cares not where that object exists: if there be any thing truly lovely in persons who even despise and ill treat us, we shall love it in spite of all: we shall open our way to the pearl, in spite of the tenacity of the shell. If this be love, how little of it exists! yet all lay claim to it: they must therefore deceive themselves. "There are other graces which we seem to see in ourselves, and are mistaken. Religious considerations sometimes appear so pleasant to us, that our hearts are full, and we speak to all of the happiness of religion. This we suppose must be Christian experience-this is the joy and peace promised to the saints; which joy is more to be suspected than any other. It is very often no more than the animal spirits, elevated by something that pleases self; and merely taking a tinge, a slight colouring, from religion. Rejoice in tribulation, with a sick and dying body, destitute of friends, temporal comforts, and all other aids to cheerfulness; or rejoice when your will is contradicted, and you are put to great inconvenience-and we will readily grant that your joy is genuine: but, in most other cases, it is very much to be suspected. "The heart very often makes use of the bodily constitutions of men, to impose upon them. Many give themselves credit for being humble and sober, because the constitution, being naturally sedate, has no tendency to lead them into excesses to which ardent tempers are prone. Others impetuously carry all before them, and despise the rest for want of zeal; whereas their own zeal is no more than the heat of their blood. If we would take the measure of our progress in those tempers to which our natural constitutions are most averse, we should more justly appreciate our real character. It is by pursuing the opposite method, that we fall into mistakes." "Powers of deceit may be estimated |