the conviction of my weakness and unworthiness. Blessed Guide and Comforter, lead my contrite spirit to repose its full trust in the merits of my Saviour. Almighty Father, whose just indignation I have incurred, cast me not off for ever; listen to the interceding calls of thy mercy, to the powerful pleading of my Saviour's blood, and turn from my guilty soul the severity of thy wrath. Recovered by thy mercy from the depths of guilt and misery, and restored by thy grace to health, purity, and peace, be all the glory of my redemption ascribed unto thee, FATHER, SON, and HOLY GHOST, for ever and ever. Amen.'*

Whatever fault nicer critics may find with such language, it is not to be denied that there is in it much of that which we admire in Jeremy Taylor, Andrews, and other of the older and more spiritual divines of the Church of England. It is the language of a heart not afraid to pray, not 'tongue-tied,' (to borrow a phrase of Coleridge,) but yielding itself up to its pious emotions with that entire, unsuspecting, unfearing, childlike profusion of feeling, which marks, and ought to mark, the address of an affectionate penitent toward a once offended but now reconciled Father.

It may be satisfactory to hear the opinion of a foreign critic on this point; one, moreover, not likely to prove partial, the Rev. S. C. Wilkes,

* Page 68.

the learned and pious editor of the London Christian Journal. In a letter to Mr. Hobart, some years after this, speaking of differences among Christians, he says, "It will be well if all learn from your devotional compositions that deep humility, that profound reverence toward GOD, that deep repentance, that implicit faith in the sacrifice of the Saviour for pardon and justification, and those earnest resolutions and endeavors after a devout and holy life which they breathe in every page.' And again, speaking of a devotional work Mr. Hobart was about editing, his correspondent adds, "The frequent perusal of your "Companion" to the blessed eucharist convinces me it will gain much of unction from the required revision.'

After such a eulogium it may seem arrogant for his biographer to add, that, speaking for himself, he would freely admit, that in these earlier works of Mr. Hobart the style is not to his taste. He would prefer either for didactic or devotional ends one of a more chastened character, words chosen with more precision, arranged in more natural order, and with greater condensation of expression. Their fervid diffuseness cannot but be esteemed a fault, so far at least as rendering them inappropriate interpreters of the inward thoughts and feelings of minds of a calmer tenor. But this is not to condemn

them for the use of others: some there are who love to see the religion of the heart clothed in the warm colors of the affections, who like not the sober garb with which nature in some, and age and sorrow in most, invest even the brightest hopes of the Christian. To such this manual of devotion will be found highly acceptable, for such too is its character.

But when such language is charged by Churchmen with extravagance of sentiment or doctrine, it augurs ill for the Church to which they belong. And such was the fact.

The censure of the work came rather from those who disliked what they undervalued-the tone it wore of deep personal religion. At that time there were many who were for keeping not only the Church to its forms, but its forms to a cold, or what they termed, a decent,' propriety. In this matter Mr. Hobart's course puzzled and dissatisfied them: he went beyond them in attachment to the one, and was at direct variance with them in the other. They knew not, in short, whether to call him High Churchman' or 'Methodist.'

This was a combination in which Mr. Hobart at that time stood singular, and gives the secret, it may be said, not only of his influence over the Church, but, in short, of his power through life over the minds of all who ap

proached him all may be traced mainly to this union in his character of traits apparently contradictory, yet equally influential. Heart and head, enthusiasm and principle, zeal and a sound judgment, this is the union in man of those opposing poles of human thought, which embrace all its springs of power. Therefore it is that such men, in the sphere in which they are called to act, carry the world before them; all things yield before the pertinacity of principleof that passion for truth which men call PRINCIPLE. Indolence,' says Burke, 'is the master vice of human nature.' Men give way therefore, rather than fight for ever-such is the history of all moral victories. To him who urges an unpopular cause with untiring zeal, the reflecting few may yield upon conviction, but the MANY give way from weariness and faintheartedness, and thus is the world governed, and the interests of society advanced, and communities in Church or State built up and strengthened by the operation of individual character.

In the following year, (1805,) he published the Companion for the Festivals and Fasts of the Church,' a work founded upon the corresponding one of the excellent Nelson,' as he is familiarly termed, but recast and enlarged by additions from the writings of Stevens, Potter, Daubeny, and, above all, Dean Hickes, whose

'Devotions in the way of Ancient Offices,' seems to have taken strong hold, in this instance, on a congenial mind. After a modest notice in the Preface, of what he claims as original, Mr. Hobart goes on to add,—

'But his principal office has been that of compiler, and if the book should prove a useful companion in the exalted exercises of the Christian life; if, while it serves to impress on the members of the Episcopal communion the excellence of their holy, apostolic, and primitive Church, it should excite them to adorn their profession by corresponding fervor of piety and sanctity of manners, the editor will be amply rewarded for the labor and attention he has bestowed upon the work.'

ut we are bound to add, that the execution of such a plan involves more than mere editorship. Such at least was the case with all the compilations made by Mr. Hobart his ardent mind fused as it were the thoughts of others, and recast them in moulds bearing the impress of his own, thus giving unity to what, in the hands of most editors, would have been a rude and undigested heap, rudis indigestaque moles.'

The real merit of these works was, therefore, far greater than their reputation. While they pretended to little, they effected much. They