him, rather to investigate the grounds of an author's hypothesis, and satisfy his own mind upon the relative probabilities of conflicting opinions, than to plod on patiently through a long course, merely to lay up in his memory the particular views and arguments of each writer, without consideration of their importance or foundation.”

But in connection with these high endowments, and extensive acquisitions, there existed a most lovely modesty, an instinctive shrinking from the notice and applause of the world, a trait which I exhibit distinctly on account of its connection with, and its influence upon his subsequent professional course. Wolfe was the author of that justly celebrated ode, "The Burial of Sir John Moore." It was the production of his college days, and even then cost him no particular effort. After he had written it he threw it aside, under the impression probably that its merits would assign it no higher place, than the rubbish of his writing desk. It was finally brought before the public by accident. Soon it became extensively published, and excited high and universal admiration. Inquiries were immediately made for its gifted author. For a considerable time, no one appeared to claim it. At length false pretensions were avowed. But whilst the honor of the production was greedily caught at by ambitious deceivers, the real and unpretending author reposed in the obscurity he loved. He said nothing, and he seemed not to care who bore away the credit of his productions, if they would leave him in quietness. Here we see the man. And the same humble, admirable spirit shone out with a still brighter lustre in the minister of Jesus.

In 1817 he received ordination. It appeared to be a sincere consecration. He evidently at that time brought his talents and acquisitions, and laid them all at the feet of his divine Master. As a preacher of the gospel, he ever exhibited the spirit of the gospel. He sought not great things for himself. He was ready to go where his Lord should call him. To the high or to the low, to the rich or to the poor, he was willing to administer the truths and the consolations of the gospel.

He was finally settled in Castle Caulfield, the principal village of the parish of Donoughmore, with a large charge, scattered over an extensive region of wild hilly country, abounding in bogs and trackless wastes. The people were mostly poor and uncultivated. None of them, he says, rose so high as the class of gentlemen, but there is a good number of a respectable description. The greater part, however, were in the lower walks of life. To them he cheerfully devoted his time and talents. Amongst them he most faithfully labored till disease compelled him to retire. His character as a minister, was peculiarly pleasing and instructive.

True Christian self-denial constituted the most valuable and prominent trait. It was impressively exhibited from the commencement to the completion of his course. For the welfare of souls, he was willing to forego the dearest temporal comforts. If he could but win souls, he was content to be wretchedly poor. If he could but lead others to a building of God, an house not made with hands eternal in the heavens, he would cheerfully submit to the meanest and most inadequate accommodations. Such were his accommodations in the field of his labor. "He seldom thought," says his biographer, "of providing a regular meal; and his humble cottage exhibited every appearance of the neglect of the ordinary comforts of life. A few straggling rush-bottomed chairs, piled up with his books, a small rickety table before the fire place, covered with parish memoranda, and two trunks containing all his papers-serving at the same time to cover the broken parts of the floor-constituted all the furniture of the sitting

room.

The mouldy walls of the closet in which he slept were hanging with loose folds of damp paper."

But this is not all. We find in his history still higher exercises of this stern Christian virtue. I refer to his readiness to abandon his foud literary pursuits, and the cherished pleasures of refined intellectual society. Though his relish for these things was intensely strong, he did not indulge it at the expense of conscience and of duty. He chose rather the pleasure of doing good, and cheerfully withdrew from nearly every source of intellectual and social gratification.

Herein his example speaks with a lovely and impressive force. Wolfe has nobly led the way, from the hall of science, from a proud standing on the heights of literature, into the field of humble obscure ministerial labor. Here we see a man of the most finished cultivation, cheerfully coming down to what are deemed the mean and the vulgar, that he might enlighten and bless them. This surely partakes of the spirit of Him, who, to save the lost, laid aside the glories of heaven, took upon Him the form of a servant, and became obedient unto death. It is a spirit which must be more generally and largely imbibed, before this dark and guilty world will be blessed with the beams of truth and salvation. It is a wrong idea, and ought to be reprobated and abandoned, that the more learned and eloquent of our candidates for the sacred office, must devote their powers exclusively to the gratification and improvement of the wealthy and cultivated societies, whilst those of smaller resources and less brilliant address, must perform their ministry with those who cannot appreciate these higher endowments. The present is no time for such a sentiment to prevail and exert an influence. It is a time of enterprise. We live in a depraved world, which must be converted. Men of strength must take hold of this work and push it in all its departments. They must take the torch of truth and plunge into the gross darkness which settles upon such multitudes of the people. Paul did not stay at Rome, nor at Corinth, nor at Athens. If he had, millions now in glory might have been wailing in the pit.

Wolfe is an example of pleasing success. In his ministry it is seen that a man of eminent learning and taste may labor with great advantage and blessed results amongst a plain unlettered people. It is sometimes said, and more frequently thought, that men of but little intellectual furniture will do as well if not better amongst the chaotic and uncultivated materials of common life, than those who have had a more thorough mental training. The experiment of Wolfe constitutes a perfect refutation of this most absurd idea. If we follow him in his labors, we find no situation in which his thorough intellectual discipline proved an injury, or an embarrassment. His learning did not chill his piety; this was warm and practical. It was benevolent and disinterested. He loved the souls of men. He sought not theirs, but them. His learning did not make him lofty and arrogant in his bearing. He was affable, affectionate, and condescending to the last degree. He could come down to the humblest of his flock, adopt himself perfectly to their capacities, and enter most kindly into their sympathies. The lower classes of the people," says his biographer, were much engaged by the affectionate and the simple earnestness of his deportment toward them. In his conversations with the plain farmer, and the humble laborer, he usually laid his hands upon their shoulder, or caught them by the arm, and while he was insinuating his arguments, or enforcing his appeals, with all the variety of simple illustrations which a prolific fancy could supply, he fastened an anxious eye upon the coun

tenance of the person he was addressing, as if eagerly waiting some gleam of intelligence to show that he was understood and felt.

His learning did not render his pulpit ministrations abstruse and unintelligible to the common mind. They were plain, fervent, and acceptable. It is an unfounded notion that a person of high and thorough cultivation, must necessarily be above the comprehension of those who have had but few advantages of education. Thorough discipline is the very thing which will enable a minister to be entirely intelligible to the more ignorant of his hearers. His conceptions of truth will be clear, and his manner of communicating it distinct and simple. He will understand mind in all its states, and on this account he will be enabled to adapt himself to the meanest capacities. It is the direct tendency of a thorough discipline to reduce a person to simplicity. A mature scholar can come down naturally and easily. He is not afraid to hazard his reputation by being a plain common-sense man, who thinks and talks like other men.

This was the case with Wolfe. With all his learning and refinement, he was lucid and simple as childhood in his communications. The meanest of his flock understood and felt the power of his instructions.

Wolfe was diligent in the duties of his holy calling. He appeared to watch for souls as one that must give account. He was faithful and active in pastoral visitation. In connection with this, he cherished a deep sense of the importance of close study. He made his preparations for the pulpit, under an oppressive sense of responsibility. Every sentence was recorded with care, because it was to exert an influence on the destiny of souls. By this carefulness he rendered his addresses simple, pointed, and impassioned. He looked at and dwelt upon the truth, until by its action his feelings were warmed and elevated; until his heart was so full of it, that it poured forth its warnings and persuasions with a subduing effect.

I have alluded to the success of the ministry of Wolfe. He was successful in two respects. His labors were beneficial to his own soul, and to the souls of many of his people. There is danger that the spiritual interests of a preacher will suffer on account of his very intimacy with religion. Religion sometimes becomes a profession instead of a personal concern. It becomes a profession to pray, and warn the impenitent. The consequence is, truth is sometimes coldly regarded, and coldly presented. Not so in the case of the honest, faithful minister. Not so with Wolfe. When he became a preacher, his Christian character received a strong and blessed impulse. His professional intimacy with religion was the means of a more rapid advance in holiness. The more he dwelt upon the realities of revelation, and the more he urged them upon the attention of his people, the deeper the hold they had of his own heart. The more he preached Christ, the more of his spirit did he receive, the more of his image did he reflect. The influence of a ministry conducted in this spirit, will be felt in the hearts of those who are the objects of it. God will certainly bless it. God did bless the ministry of Wolfe. Many in the course of it were awakened more seriously to regard the concerns of eternity. The sanctuary, before neglected to a great extent, became thronged by those who were eager for the words of eternal life. There, words distilled with sweet and solemn persuasion from this devoted preacher's lips. They reached the hearts of many, and became there, through the Spirit's agency, the words of life and salvation. Numbers through the instrumentality of Wolfe, it is believed, will sing and triumph to eternity.

Though useful, his ministry was short. In the spring of 1824, after a season of most exhausting labor in his scattered parish, which disease had

been desolating, his own constitution exhibited symptoms of being seriously affected. His complaints were pulmonary. It was judged advisable that he should retire from the arduous duties of his station. He consented with the extremest reluctance. His people loved him with ardent affection.

But the measures employed to save an invaluable life, were unavailing. God in his wisdom had determined, not to lay him aside, but to remove him, as we believe, to a more exalted sphere of usefulness. We are too apt to think, when our pillars are struck down and borne away, that God has no other temple to be sustained, and adorned, than the one his grace is rearing in this present world.

Wolfe lingered till the 21st of Feb. 1823, when he expired. was peace.

His end

His trust was in the Saviour; his treasure and his affections in heaven. He had no fear, for he knew in whom he had believed. "Close this eye," said he to a friend, "the other is closed already," and shortly his spirit was in another scene. Surely may we join in his dying exclamation, "Thou, O God, will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee.”

How blessed the termination of the devoted Christian's course. Examples are multiplying of the Saviour's faithfulness to those who faithfully serve him in the toils and trials of his kingdom. Evarts and Cornelius have added their testimony with a thrilling effect. There is a moral sublimity in the dying scenes of such men, which throws into insignificance the deified departure of those who like Nelson fall amid the achievements of worldly glory. There is an admonition too in these repeated strokes of the destroyer. God can spare from this field his most efficient servants. Usefulness is no shield against the shafts of death. We who preach are dying ministers of dying people. We stand at the entrance of eternity. Frequently are we summoned down to the shores of that ocean to see some member of our charge launch away upon its dark and fearful bosom. Soon we must go after them, and meet them at the tribunal of omniscient judgment. Happy if we then find that our duties were DONE. What motives we have to diligence, what calls to effort. What bright examples allure us in the path of benevolent activity. Let us then be followers of

them who through faith and patience inherit the promises.

STUDY OF GREEK LITERATURE.

(Continued from page 290, Vol. IV.)

GREEK literature should be studied for the knowledge and practical mastery of our own native tongue. A philosophical knowledge of English is impossible, without acquaintance with a language from which more than fourteen hundred words are immediately derived, and if we trace etymologies through the Latin, nearly forty thousand. It is also impossible to know the compass and depth of English literature, without being scholars in Greek. The revival of classical literature, as if "coming to create new worlds," reduced the unformed intellectual waste to order and beauty through all Europe: it was the providence of God that commanded it, and forthwith light

Sprung from the deep, and from her native East

To journey through the airy gloom began.*

* Paulus Langius, who lived in the fifteenth century, dates the arrival of Manuel Chrysoloras in Italy, with the Greek learning, in 1389. In 1470, George Tifernas first taught Greek in Paris. Erasmus learned it at Paris, and translated the Hecuba of Euripides, and much of Lucan, and Gaza's Grammar, expressly 'ut plures alliceremus ad studium Grecanici Sermonis." As if appointed to perform its emulous part 5

VOL. V.

But nowhere did it produce richer results than in England. The old English literature, the rich, massy architecture of the true English mind, is all Greek in its spirit. In habitual communion with Grecian intellect, the ruling minds of England, in the first era of her true greatness, grew to a majestic intellectual stature. The student of that age finds himself in a sphere, where his emotions are somewhat like those of Brennus and his soldiers, when they advanced into the midst of the hall, around which the venerable priests and senators of Rome, in their robes of state, with white flowing beards, and the sceptre of office in their hands, were seated in silent dignity. Master spirits are around him, their aspect commanding and sublime, their dress heavy with the magnificence of former ages, their movements of a godlike majesty, their features shining with the expression of a great indwelling soul. At that time, the practical great men of active life, the distinguished statesmen, the great lawyers, the men who ruled in commotion, were minds disciplined and invigorated by familiarity with Greek literature. Even as far back as the age of Henry VIII, Sir Thomas More, the noblest mind in England, was a proficient in its study.*

(with the art of painting) in the great theatre of public improvement, Classical Literature re-entered Europe at this period, in its richest and most attractive shape, and with all its interesting novelties; for, above fifty years before the capture of Constantinople by the Turks, Greek literature was introduced into Italy after an absence of seven hundred years. Spreading thence into France, Holland, and Germany, as that catastrophe multiplied its teachers in the exiles, whom every one pitied, and whom the great nobly cherished, and crossing in due time our channel into England, it established every where new habits and objects of intellectual gratification. Studied even by the aged, (bishop Fisher, beheaded with Sir Thomas More, applied to it at the age of 40,) as it had been by the half-murmuring Cato in Rome, it diffused a taste for elegance of style, for discrimination and delicacy of expression and meaning, and for an aspiring philosophy of thought, which was too stimulating, and often too rash, not to excite the alarm of the well intentioned, and at last the enmity of those who, for selfish purposes, wished the torpid submission of the human mind to be its unaltering condition, and its contented degradation. As these studies spread, they were found to occasion distinction as well as gratification. The higher clergy delighted in a variety of attainments, and abandoned their pompous ignorance, to imitate in their own language the graces of Athenian elegance; while the powerful laity became as desirous to found and endow universities, as they had been in the preceding centuries, to build churches and monasteries."-Turner's Modern History of England. Book II. Chap. I.

*The following passages from one of More's familiar and affectionate epistles, present an interesting picture of his mind and heart. His grandson introduces it with these words:

"I set down here a most excellent letter of Sir Thomas More's to Doctor Colet, which beginneth thus:"As I was lately walking in Cheapside, and busying myself about other men's causes, met by chance your servant, at whose first encounter I was marvellously rejoiced, both because he hath always been dear unto me, and also especially for that I thought he was not come to London without yourself. But when I had learned of him that you was not returned, nor minded to return of a long space, it cannot be expressed how my great joy was turned into extreme sorrow and sadness: for what could happen more troublesome unto me than to be deprived of your most grateful and moral conversation, whose wholesome counsels I was wont to enjoy, with whose delightful familiarity I was wont to be recreated, by whose weighty sermons I have been often stirred up to devotion, by whose life and example I have been much amended in mine own, finally in whose very face and countenance I have settled my trust, and confidence of my progress in virtue.

"I pardon you the more easily that you do delight to remain still in the country where you are, for you find there a company of plain souls void of all craft wherewith citizens do most abound. Wheresoever you look, the earth yieldeth you a pleasant prospect, the temperature of the air refresheth you, and the very bounds of the heavens do delight you. You find nothing there but bounteous gifts of nature, and saint-like tokens of innocency. Yet I would not have you so carried away with those contentments, that you should be stayed from hastening hither; for if the discommodity of the city do pester you, yet your parish of Stepney, of which you should have great care, may afford you like delight to those which you now enjoy, from whence you may quickly return to London as into your own, where you may find great matter of merit.There come into the pulpit at Paul's, divers men that promise to cure the diseases of others, but their lives do so jar with their sayings, that when they have preached a goodly process, they rather provoke to anger than assuage any sore; for they cannot persuade men that they are fit to cure others, when themselves (God wot) are most sick and crazy, which causeth them that have abused sores not to endure to be touched or lanced by such ignorant physicians. But if such a one be accounted by learned men most fit to cure, in whom the sick man hath greatest hope, who doubteth then that you alone are the fittest to cure their maladies, whom every one is willing to touch their imposthumes, and in whom that confidence every one hath, both you have heretofore sufficiently tried, and now the desire that every one hath of your speedy return may manifest the cause more evidently. Return, therefore, my dear Colet, at least for Stepney's sake, which mourneth your absence no less than a child doth for his mother; or else for London's sake, in respect it is your native country, whereof you can have no less regard than of your own parents. Finally, although this be the least motive, return for my sake, who have wholly dedicated myself to your direction, and do most earnestly desire your return. In the mean while I pass my time with Grocine, Linacre, and Lilly; the first, as you know, the director of my life in your absence; the second, the master of my studies; the third, my most dear companion. Farewell, and see you love me as you have done hitherto."Life of Sir Thomas More, by his great grandson Cresacre More. p. 29-34.

"The age did not present," says the modern editor of More's life," at least in England, three more learned, more useful, or better men, than Grocine, Linacre, and Lilly. Grocine was many years older than More. He was the divinity reader at Oxford, and the first who taught Greek literature in that university. Linacre was the famous physician of that name, and had been More's tutor in Greek at Oxford; and Lilly, who was nearer More's own age, was distinguished by his attainments in Greek literature, and his accuracy as a grammarian."

Edward the VI. was himself a Greek scholar, and in his reign it was "that classical studies began to supersede those of the old schoolmen and canon law." Turner, (Modern History of England, Book II.