fluence against us, and arrayed the entire mind of the great and noble in opposition to our claims. But chief of all, in this grievous overthrow, were the men who brought to our controversy the vindictive feelings of worsted diplomacy and rancorous partisanship. Who these are, is a matter of history, and we have no need to conceal them. It was my Lord Aberdeen, and his ally the Lord Justice Clerk for Scotland, that from the outset were the mooters of this strife. They schemed, and managed the fatal drama. And without reserve or abatement, on them we devolve the entire reponsibility of this catastrophe, with all the mischief it has wrought as yet, and all the mischiefs that must follow in its train.

But handing up this question to a higher tribunal, where God sits and not man, we turn for a moment to another not less important, What is now the duty of all who hitherto have ranked as members of the Church of Scotland? And assuredly this question, whatever it may have been formerly, is at last simple enough. It is not, Do you approve of the way in which the controversy has been managed? nor, Do you think that the secession was imperative? It is not even, Do you acquiesce in all our principles? nor, Would it be of any consequence that a bill was now introduced, which embraced our every claim? The question that each member of the Church of Scotland must now consider, lies not among these elements at all,-it is a question of much nearer access, and narrower compass. This is it. The Church of Scotland has become two, it is divided into two religious bodies,-in a loose way of speaking, we have now two churches in the midst of us. Well, to one or other of these must all adhere; and the only question which each man has now to resolve, is, Whether of the two shall I join? There are two alternatives, but two only. It is not possible to regard both parties as alike right, or as alike wrong. The events of the last month have made it clear as sunshine that the State Church, and the Free Church of Scotland have not one thing in common. In the course of eight days, every principle asserted— every measure adopted-every statute passed-every case decided every sentence affirmed during a period of eight years by the latter, was without exception, and without a pause, swept away by the former, not merely in indecent haste, but with a desperation that seemed allied to phrenzy. The two bodies, then, are not simply mistaken RIVALS; they are irreconcilable ANTAGONISTS. They do not touch, save it may be for conflict, at a single point. They have not one common

nest and intrepid enough to remind him, that so far from recognising the Church of Scotland, when amongst us, her Majesty was advised openly to insult it, by declaring that it was a Church with which she could not worship.

feature-or motive-or design-or sympathy. They differ not-as we do with Dissenters-on minor points; they are essentially, intensely, immutably opposed. Ignorant or affected men may choose to liken the present rupture to the hasty contention betwixt Paul and Barnabas. But it is a separation far different in all respects; -the separation not of infirmity, but of principle, a separation of godliness, not of temper―the separation even of light from darkness,-of Christ from Belial, because there is no concord between them!

The question then to be decided, is abundantly simple-it is this, and no more, Which of these two ecclesiastical bodies shall I belong to with which shall I cast in my lot at present, and with which would I desire to be found associated at last? And can any one, whose eyes the Lord hath opened, halt even for a moment? Here is a church free in the amplest liberty of Christ-and there is a church which, with its own hands, has wreathed on its neck, the yoke of Erastian domination. Here is a church that is hailed by all godly communions, and which in return embraces them with a kiss of holy love-and there is a church which not a single body of Christians acknowledges, and which actually has flung them from its bosom. Here is a church, to which for the most part, all who are known for their spiritual character have attached themselves-and there is a church made up almost entirely of men not known among the saints. Here is a church, finally, whose principles and objects, if carried out, and prospered, would make the wilderness to blossom-and there is a church, which no Christ-loving soul can wish to spread, and whose increase would be the triumph of darkness throughout the land.

Let no Christian member of the Church of Scotland, then, hesitate to join the Free Church. It is his duty, simple and imperative-and therein he will be blessed. In doing so we walk in the steps of all our martyrs-and we shall be honoured to lift up an impressive testimony for Jesus, in a world that sets him at nought. And in all likelihood we shall escape, as Dr Cunningham powerfully remarked, the judgments that will soon overtake the wicked in their place. And at length shall we be accounted worthy to stand before the Son of Man.

Let no one imagine that a protest such as our fathers lifted up against Moderation, is now available. No. It would be distinct rebellion. It is not rebellion, but a lawful exercise of right, to protest against a vicious administration of a sound system, and to remain within it. The system is mine, for I have espoused it-not its abuse by evil hands, which I repudiate. But if the administration I reclaimed against, shall any how become the system, then my position is wholly altered. Remaining as I was, I adopt the new

constitution, however repugnant to me; and to protest against it therefore, does not save my conscience, but proclaims me a mutineer. I have a right, on joining the Church of England, to challenge Puseyism, for that belongs not to the constitution,-but I have no right to protest against Episcopacy, which I have already homologated in the fact of my membership. In like manner, I was quite entitled to lift up my voice against Erastianism in the Church of Scotland, hitherto. But now that the Church has become Erastian by law and constitution, Erastianism is part and parcel of the system,-it is a term of her Establishment; and if I protest against this principle, or any doings in accordance with it, I protest against what I have sanctioned, and this is more than an absurdity, it is revolt against the State, whose institution I will neither quit nor submit to. Every protest, therefore, against Erastian Moderation in the State Church of Scotland now, is an unequivocal act of rebellion.

We dismiss that great movement on which we have been commenting, with the remark, That it would be well that they who will not look on the event in the light of prophecy, would at least look on prophecy in the light of this event. What is the juncture now reached? What are the questions which wait to be solved? The aim of the WORLD,-what is it? Even to seize the reins of government in the Church,-and it has seized them. Christ's enemies have possessed themselves of his sceptre, and sat down upon his throne. Is it not evident, therefore, that something more impressive than a testimony,-more subduing than a crisis,-more palpable than a Church, is needed to redress the great wrong that has been offered to our Prince, and array Him with his rightful Sovereignty? Let him appear, and his enemies will cast down their spoil, and he shall wear a brighter crown than ever. But no arm save his own, and that arm laid bare in the midst of us, will restore what has been taken away. And the attitude of the CHURCH-What is it? It breathes and pants for union, and rest in union. Blest spirit! noble aim! seraphic ambition! But where shall we find a union-centre-a rallying point? Earth could not furnish it, though we were to ransack all her fulness. Churches may love one another, and so they do. But no church will say to a sister church, be thou our nucleus, and take precedence of us all. What though we talk of union then,-it indicates concord, it may lead to co-operation; but to union,-essential and identifying union,-union without pressure, restraint, or jealousy, -union, such as heaven is the scene of, we never shall approach, until He come who shall be at once the visible centre of all his saints, and the object of their ceaseless worship. Thou, therefore, that sittest in light and glory unapproachable, Parent of

angels and men, look upon this thy poor, and almost spent and expiring Church. Leave her not a prey to the importunate wolves that wait, and think long till they devour thy tender flock,-the wild boars that have broke into thy vineyard, and left the print of their polluting hoofs on the souls of thy servants. O, let them not bring about their damned designs, that now stand at the entrance of the bottomless pit, expecting the watchword to open, and let out those dreadful locusts, to reinvolve us in that pitchy cloud of darkness, where we never more shall see the sun of thy truth again, -never hope for the cheerful dawn,-never more hear the bird of morning sing! Hitherto thou hast but freed us, and that not fully, from the unjust and tyrannous claim of thy foes. Now unite us entirely, and appropriate us to thyself,-tie us everlastingly in willing homage to the prerogative of thy eternal throne! O! perfect and accomplish thy glorious acts,-for men may leave their works unfinished; but thou art God, and thy nature is perfection. Shouldst thou bring us thus far onward from Egypt, to destroy us in this wilderness, though we deserve, yet, thy great name would suffer in the rejoicing of thine enemies, and the deluded hope of all thy servants. But when thou hast settled peace in the Church, then shall all thy saints address their voice of joy and triumph to thee, standing on the shore of that Red Sea into which our enemies had almost driven us! Thy kingdom is near at hand, thou art standing at thy door. Come forth out of thy royal chambers, O Prince of all the kings of the earth,-put on the visible robes of thy imperial majesty,-take up that unlimited sceptre which thy Almighty Father hath bequeathed thee. The voice of thy bride now calls thee. All creatures sigh to be renewed !'*

VOL. XVI. NO. II.

• Milton.

CRITICAL NOTICES.

The Highlands, the Scottish Martyrs, and other Poems. By the Rev. JAMES G. SMALL. Edinburgh: William Whyte & Co.

A maker of verses differs from a poet in much the same sense that a stonemason differs from a sculptor,—or, in whatever way we can distinguish between working from an ideal, and endeavouring to give it a local habitation, and working with a plummet and foot-rule. Differing from other men by their native endowment, all veritable seers and singers belong to one brotherhood, and have a voice, however humble it be, which finds an echo in all hearts, and in all times and lands;—while, under all diversity of conventional classification, all genuine poetry is intrinsically of one character.

Mr Small ranks considerably higher than a verse manufacturer. Having taken him out of this category, we have said enough to show that he writes as an artist, and not as an artizan; that it rests with himself to take his proper place; that the mystic region, where art is transmuted into nature, lies wide before him where to choose; and that already has he set foot within its charmed precincts. The pleasant flow and cadence of his rhythm would have little value for us, were not his verses, as they are, the musical expression of really musical thought-that is poetry.

From the volume before us, we see good reason why Professor Wilson should have assigned the highest place to Mr Small's productions; or, perhaps, we should say, that, under any other class-critic of prize-poems, we feel confident that the poem on the " Highlands" would not have ranked first, but been considerably cut up,-it is so unlike the ordinary run of class-rhymes. There are neither muses nor Apollos, machinery nor paganism, nor any smack of Francedom in it. It is an excursion, and not a sentimental journey, amid floods and mountains, written very gracefully and without any affectation, by one who has, and this is perhaps his characteristic quality,—a singularly fine open sense for nature,-an eye that maketh not pretensions to fine frenzies, but that looks with a sort of intuitive keenness and discernment on the world without us.

"The primrose by the river's brim,

A yellow primrose is to him;"

but it is something more. He has considered the lilies how they grow, and has read with profit nature's symbolic instructions. In this poem on the Highlands, which is the longest and by far the best in our apprehension, there is given, unconsciously we presume, a good deal of insight into the author's autobiography. He writes so naturally and simply, and lets out his thoughts, —and he can think to some purpose,—and his fancies, and feelings so almost artlessly, that while his stanzas paint to us, and sometimes very vividly and beautifully, the scenes he has travelled over, we become at the same time acquainted with the author himself. The five cantos, and we mean it not at all in disparagement, are a species of soliloquy,-a seer's soliloquy; the musings and utterances of a soul of well-poised sensibility, and with a true aspective vision.

What one finds to be the permeating tone and spirit of the volume on our table, is an extreme gentleness of heart, coupled with an intense and passionate love of nature; while, over and above, there breathes, all through, such Christian-mindedness as we prize in William Cowper. From the following lines, taken from one of the lesser pieces, named 'Imagination, a tale,