alterations of spirits would be sudden and irresistible, if he did not possess likewise a restorative and refreshing power within"Secret refreshings, that repair his strength, And fainting spirits uphold."

That gift he possesses in his imagination. By that power his most arduous efforts are made, his highest excitements created; yet it has also gentle and playful movements, which restore the strength it had so largely called upon before. It is a creative and modifying power. Its lighter workings are gently excited by the various pleasing forms and changes of natureby whatever solicits a passing attention—

"To make the shifting clonds be what you please,
Or bid the easily persuaded eyes

Own each strange likeness issuing from the mould
Of a friend's fancy;"-

to put conscious life and enjoyment into the manifold growth which is springing up in noiseless rushing over the whole face of nature to interpret the passionate singing of birds-to moralize over the trailing and soiled vines, or

"The rathe primrose that forsaken dies,”

in these is his delight-in these sports of fancy and imagination his mind clears itself by its own spontaneous efforts. Other causes must be coincident, we grant; the discomposure against which one strives must not be

"Pangs that tempt the spirit to rebel."

We speak of every day wants and every day refreshments.

Now we grant it is only in the higher degrees of that branch of mind which is kindred with genius, that the imagination dwells in sufficient power to be susceptible of culture like this. Yet there are such degrees. Below the mind, which-freely balanced in its own powers-is adequate to original creation, there are orders which possess more or less of the same creative element of imagination-enough to follow, in perfect sympathy, where genius has gone before, enough to shed a cheering light upon their other gifts. Minds of that order are susceptible of culture in this respect. If, without such cultivation, they would have walked over the face of nature heedless, or with only a pleasure to the outward eye, they may by an awakened sympathy with the poetic imagination, be enabled to send their thoughts abroad on other errands, to return with other delights. Through such influences, that state of cheerful activity may be kept up, on which other branches of cultivation so much depend. But to the religious mind, how elevating, how solemnizing the gentle workings of this restoring power! To what a

devout purpose may not his imagination give new form and being to the objects with which it plays! How fair a handmaid to the noblest exercises of religion may not that faculty be, which existing in a higher degree-forms the distinctive power of the poet!

But we need not longer dwell upon the characteristics of poetic genius. If those which we have already brought forward have any weight, they will be enough to satisfy the reader, that the study of true poetry may do much more than to furnish a delightful amusement;—that it may exert an influence upon the mind favorable to the expansion of the principle of religion itself. And if such a conclusion may be drawn from a survey of the characteristics of genius in one department of mind alone, it will be confirmed and strengthened by calling to mind other attributes which distinguish the same order of mind when producing its creations in other fields of art-in every province of genial production, of poesy in the comprehensive meaning of the word. The reader will then be satisfied, that if hitherto, while he felt it to be his duty to seek the cultivation of his mind from books, he has confined himself to those which profess to furnish him with the knowledge which it is the fashion to call "useful," he has been neglecting, to his loss, a whole class of works peculiarly addressed to those faculties by which the principle of religion is chiefly manifested, and which are therefore eminently instruments in effecting a kind of cultivation of great worth to the Christian. We would urge him to retrieve his loss. Without pressing him to give to such studies a disproportionate attention, we would encourage him to bring his faculties under the awakening, enlivening, cultivating influence of those minds, which have been distinguished from all others by the possession of original creative power. Let him not hope, however, to attain any worthy success by hasty, superficial reading, such as one vouchsafes to the ephemeral literature of the day. Let him remember, that he is not reading for the story's sake, nor even simply for the instruction's sake, but that he may appreciate and feel the influence of mind in the displays of its creative energy. To that end his own mind must follow out and reproduce each creation. But can we, of an inferior order, pursue without effort the bold steps of rapt genius, "leaping perchance from star to star?" No. We do not even see the profounder and essential beauties of works of genius at first sight. And if works of true creative art must be studied in order to see their beauty, much more must they be studied in order to form our minds to something of the same character. That such an attainment in cultivation is possible, as it is desirable,

we cannot but believe, though our zeal for it should be thought to be somewhat exaggerated by the unforgotten enthusiasm of our youthful days.

ART. VIII.-1.

A Discourse on the Pastoral Care. By Bishop BURNET. Fourteenth edition. Rivington & Cochran. London, 1821.

2. The Christian Ministry, with an Inquiry into the Causes of its Inefficiency. By the Rev. CHARLES BRIDGES, B. A. 2 vols. First American, from the second London edition. New-York. Published by J. Leavitt, 1831.

2. The Pastor at the Sick Bed. By CHRISTIAN OEMLER, Pastor at Weimar. Translated from the German by the Rev. ALBERT HELFFENSTEIN, Sr. Philadelphia. Grigg & Elliott, 1836.

WE regard it as a good sign, at the present day, that greater attention is directed to the subject of ministerial labors. The opinion is yearly becoming stronger, that he who ministers at the altar should be eminent alike for the purity of his life, and the devotedness of his labors. One effect of this, is the more general circulation of works on the subject of the ministry. The titles of some of these we have placed at the head of this article. The Pastoral Care of Bishop Burnet, first published in 1682, has passed through many editions, and been, we doubt not, extensively useful. The Christian Ministry, by Mr. Bridges, is a valuable book, which should be familiar to the student of theology, and to the pastor. The third work, by Oemler, dif fers somewhat in character from both the others. It speaks of the pastor only "at the sick bed;" when he is called to minister to those who have been awakened to concern, by the agonies of dissolving nature, and a view of the eternity just opening before them.

We have mentioned these as fair specimens of the class of works to which we allude. Excellent as they all are, there is one subject, however, in relation to the duties of a clergyman, which we think in most of them has not received its due proportion of notice. We refer to the duty of PASTORAL VISITING. In devoting, therefore, the remainder of this article to some remarks on this topic we shall endeavor to enforce its importance; and show the advantage which would result to the

church of God, if every one of her ministers would, at all times be guided by that injunction of the apostle-"Whatsoever ye do, in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus."

In that solemn vow, taken upon him by each minister of the cross, he promises, by every means in his power, "to seek for Christ's sheep that are dispersed abroad, and for his children who are in the midst of this naughty world, that they may be saved through Christ forever." But it is not by the ministrations of the pulpit alone that he is to advance his Master's cause. He is to watch for times when he may speak a word for Christ. The command is-"Preach the word; be instant in season, and out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort." In his hours of social intercourse-in his daily communication with the people of his charge, there will ever be openings of which he may avail himself, to produce a salutary impression. We ask, then, "what manner of person ought he to be in all holy conversation and godliness!"

It will be acknowledged, that the broad principle on which the minister of Christ should act is, to endeavor to do in every way as much good as possible to the souls of his fellow men. This rule applies as much to his conversation as it does to his actions. But it is here he is most liable to fail; and the reason is obvious. It is easier in the warfare we are waging, to concentrate all our power in some great effort, than to keep up that daily and hourly attack upon the kingdom of Satan, which is our duty. Hence the eloquence of the pulpit is upheld, the press sends forth its thousand volumes in defence of religion; and all this is undertaken cheerfully, nay zealously. But when the Chistian is called to carry his principles with him into the private duties of life-and to seek, in his hourly intercourse with his fellow men, to advance his Master's cause, then he shrinks back. He feels that there are times when he would prefer to lay aside his armor, and float along quietly with the current of society. But such sentiments should never be entertained by the minister of the gospel: especially when the immense importance of this influence, as the necessary complement of his public labors, is considered.

The public instruction of the sanctuary may alarm, us, and we may be "almost persuaded" to yield to the truths set forth; but when the sound has died upon our ear, we can dissipate its effect in our converse with the world. Yet if there is a voice which meets us in the private intercourse of friendship, constantly bringing back to our minds the same great truths, we cannot but give them our attention.

* From the Service for the Ordination of Priests.

Fearful indeed, is the responsibility which rests upon each one in the formation of the characters of those around him! a responsibility too from which none can escape, not even the weakest. Every one to whom God has granted the liberty of speech-nay, every one to whom is given the power of conveying even a single idea to the mind of another, may contribute in some degree to modify his character. Look how much the whole complexion of the soul may be changed by the operation of a single thought. Its influence ceases not as the sound of our voice dies away. In the mind of him to whom it is imparted, it often long afterwards "lives, and moves." Neither does it stand there isolated, and alone. Perhaps it touches some secret spring, and awakens a train of reflections, of which he who first gave it birth never dreamed. By the principle of association, another thought which seems naturally to arise from it, is called into being, and then another from this, until they flow on in long succession, to end we know not where. Sometimes, the sentiment thus lightly imparted in conversation which was forgotten at once by the speaker, has remained in the mind of him who heard it, recurring to his memory again and again, through a length of years. How powerful an effect then may a single sentence produce in modulating character, and who would carelesssly take the responsibility of fixing in the mind of another, that thought which is to link to itself such important results.*

What a striking hypothesis, by the way, is that of Coleridge -connected with his curious history of the German servant girl, familiar no doubt to our readers-that no thoughts which have once entered into the mind ever perish-that instead of passing away, as we are accustomed to believe, or being utterly blotted out they are only for a time concealed and buried beneath more recent impressions-that they are inscribed upon the imperishable tablet of the memory, there to remain for ever; like those buried cities of Italy, safe and uninjured, though their very existence was forgotten. Every one's experience furnishes at least something analogous in confirmation of this idea. How often do thoughts which for years years have slumbered, again suddenly flash upon us in all their force, we know not how, or whence! The words of an old song-the incidents of our childhood

The celebrated Dr. Paley is an example of this. When living at the University in a course of thoughtless idleness, the simple rebuke of a compan ion, recalled him to duty, and altered the whole tenor of his future life. This was the first thing which "awakened reflection and stimulated the great powers of his mind and vigorous action." (Life, p. 5.)