the most liberal exemption from bigotry, the purest and most transpicuous integrity, the brightest cheerfulness, and the promptest wit, enter into the composition of social excellence, he was one of the best companions in the world.

If to be stedfast and unmoveable, always abounding in the works of the Lord; if an union of the most brilliant, with the most solid, ministerial gifts, ballasted by a deep and humbling experience of grace, and crowned with the most extended success in the conversion of sinners and the edification of saints, be signatures of a special commission from heaven; Mr. Whitefield cannot but stand highest, on the modern list of Christian ministers.

England has had the honour of producing the greatest men, in almost every walk of useful knowledge. At the head of these are, 1. archbishop Bradwardin, the prince of divines. 2. Milton, the prince of poets. 3. Sir Isaac Newton, the prince of philosophers and 4. Whitefield, the prince of preachers.

Bishop Benson was the prelate who had the distinguished honour of ordaining the greatest, the most eloquent, and the most useful minister that has, perhaps, been produced since the days of the apostles.

It appears from a passage in one of Mr. Whitefield's own letters, published since his decease, that he was the person, whom the gracious Spirit and providence of God raised up and sent forth, to begin that great work of spiritual revival in the church of England, which has continued ever since, and still continues, with increasing spread, to replenish and enrich the evangelical vineyard by law established. In the remarkable passage, to which I refer, Mr. Whitefield expresses himself, verbatim, thus, to Mr. John Wesley: "As God was pleased to send me out first; and to enlighten me first; so, I think, he still continues to do it: my business

seems to be chiefly in planting.

If God send

you to water, I praise his name On the whole, he was the least imperfect character I ever knew; and yet, no person was ever more shockingly traduced and vilified, by those, who either were unacquainted with him, or who hated him for his virtues, and for his attachment to the gospel of Christ. But the pen of faithful history, and the suffrages of unprejudiced posterity †,

* See the Collection of Mr. Whitefield's Letters, in three volumes, octavo. Vol. i. lett. 214. p. 205.

Already has this been exemplified by the testimony of several eminent persons, particularly by the inimitable pen of Cowper, whose poetical characteristic is truth and taste. The following lines are transcribed, as descriptive of that invaluable man, and by being inserted in proximity with the above, it is presumed cannot fail of being interesting to the reader. EDITOR.

"Leuconomus (beneath well sounding Greek,
I slur a name a poet must not speak)
Stood pilloried on infamy's high stage,
And bore the pelting scorn of half an age;
The very butt of slander, and the blot
For ev'ry dart that malice ever shot.

The man that mentioned him at once dismiss'd
All mercy from his lips, and sneer'd and hiss'd;
His crimes were such as Sodom never knew,
And perjury stood up to swear all true;
His aim was mischief, and his zeal pretence,
His speech rebellion against common sense:
A knave, when tried on honesty's plain rule,
And when by that of reason, a mere fool;
Th' world's best comfort was, his doom was pass'd;
Die when he might, he must be damn'd at last.
Now, truth, perform thine office; waft aside
The curtain drawn by prejudice and pride;
Reveal (the man is dead) to wond'ring eyes
This more than monster in his proper guise.

He lov'd the world that hated him the tear-
That dropp'd upon his Bible was sincere ;
Assail'd by scandal and the tongue of strife,
His only answer was a blameless life:

will do justice to the memory of a man, of whom the present generation was not worthy.

And he that forg'd, and he that threw the dart,
Had each a brother's int'rest in his heart!
Paul's love of Christ, and steadiness unbrib'd,
Were copied close in him, and well transcrib'd.
He follow'd Paul-his zeal a kindred flame,
His apostolic charity the same.

Like him, cross'd cheerfully tempestuous seas,
Forsaking country, kindred, friends, and ease:
Like him he labour'd, and like him, content,
To bear it, suffer'd shame where'er be went.

Blush, calumny! and write upon his tomb,
If honest eulogy can spare thee room,
Thy deep repentance of thy thousand lies,

Which, aim'd at him, have pierc'd th' offended skies;
And say, blot out my sin, confess'd deplor'd,
Against thine image in thy saint, oh Lord!"

12

ANECDOTES, &c.

It appears from a little account book, wherein that great man of God, the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, minuted the times and places of his ministerial labours, that he preached upwards of eighteen thousand sermons, from the era of his ordination, to that of his death.

DR. GROVENOR's first wife was a most devout and amiable woman; the Sunday after her death, the Doctor expressed himself from the pulpit, in the following manner: "I have had an irreparable loss, and no man can feel a loss of this consequence, more sensibly than myself. But the cross of a dying Jesus is my support; I fly from one death, for refuge to another.

SOME years ago, a friend of a clergyman now living*, said to him, "Sir! you have just as many children as the patriarch Jacob."-True, answered the good old divine: and I have also Jacob's God to provide for them.

A SPARK of red hot iron flew into a gentleman's eye, several eminent surgeons tried in vain to extract it; at last, a lady of the patient's acquaintance thought of holding his eye-lid quite open, and of extracting the grievance, by the application of a load stone. The experiment succeeded. How similar is the holy Spirit's virtue, in extracting the love of sin from the heart of a saint.

*The late venerable Mr. Moses Brown. EDITOR.

KING CHARLES II. once said to that great man Mr. John Milton, "Do not you think your blindness is a judgment upon you, for having written in defence of my father's murder?"-Sir, answered the poet, it is true I have lost my eyes; but, if all calamitous providences are to be considered as judgments, your majesty should remember that your royal father lost his head.

THAT excellent man the late Rev. Mr. Joseph Hart, made it his inviolable rule, not to let an Arian, an Arminian, or any unsound preacher, occupy his pulpit, so much as once. His usual saying on those occasions, was, I will keep my pulpit as chaste as my bed.

MONSIEUR DE VOLTAIRE forgets all his infidelity, on two occasions; viz. when he is sick, and when it thunders and lightens. He is so particularly afraid of stormy weather, that, if he happens to be writing when the "clouds pour down their torrents, the air thunders, and the arrows of the Almighty flash abroad," he will call out, in an agony of horror, for a bottle of holy water, and sprinkle himself with it from head to foot, and plentifully bedew the floors and walls of his apartments into the bargain. Immediately after which precaution, he orders mass to be said in his chapel; and the masses go on briskly, one after another, until the thunder and lightening cease. But no sooner is the tempest hushed, than a clear sky and placid elements settle him into a laughing Infidel again; and, resuming his pen, he writes against Christianity with as much acrimony, zeal, and want of argument as ever.-This behaviour reminds me of an old proverb:

"When the devil was sick,

The devil a monk would be;
But, when the devil grew well,
The devil a monk was he."