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Poetry. KNOWLEDGE.

BY MRS. ABDY.

"Where is the wise? where is the scribe? where is the disputer of this world? hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world?"-1 Corinth. i. 20.

(For the Church of England Magazine.)
KNOWLEDGE! thou idol that in youth I sought,
Yielding my spirit to thy potent spell,
Giving to thee my bloom of heart and thought,
And loving thee, not wisely, but too well;
Ill were my love and faith repaid by thee
A bane, a bitter bane, thou wert to me.

Have I not woo'd thee by the waning light,

Climbing with patient pain thy rugged way;
Yet when I breathless gain'd the wish'd-for height,
Beheld up-rising hills my toil repay?
Fainting, I paus'd-repress'd the burning tear,
Then rush'd unquailing on my new career.
And how in sickness would I wail and grieve,
To think thy gifts could profit not the dead!
I dwelt on all the treasures I must leave,
On languages unstudied, books unread,
Countries unvisited, arts unattain'd,
Problems unsolv'd, and sciences ungain'd.

But God has touch'd my heart with holier feelings:
Knowledge! I love thee with a chasten'd love,
And hold the proudest wealth of thy revealings
Poor to that sacred wisdom from above,
Which tells the humbled sinner how to win
Peace, pardon, and redemption for his sin.
Nor need we tow'ring intellect to learn

The lessons taught in revelation's page;
The simple peasant can those truths discern
As clearly as the poet or the sage;
God to no letter'd band confines his-call-
His mercy and his grace extend to all.

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And when Death comes upon his awful mission,
We need not fear such knowledge to forego;
Since we shall reap in heaven the full fruition
Of all our humbly cherish'd hopes below,
Faith on the" things unseen" reposes here,
And greets their glories in a happier sphere.
Knowledge! at length I view thee as thou art -
Religion's handmaid: I can still allow
Thy power to charm and dazzle; but my heart

Rests firmly on the Rock of Ages now;
Nor pants proud scientific lore to scan,
Content to know that Jesus died for man.

Miscellaneous.

THE CHURCH.-Independently of the sacred character of the building, there is something even in the very situation of a church which leads a reflecting mind to contemplate of another and eternal state of being. For when we attend the public worship of Almighty God, within the sanctuary of his church, we find its position to be such that we cannot in any way reach it without first crossing the churchyard or burialground, where all that have gone before us are deposited in the silent grave, calmly slumbering as they moulder in the dust of death. Now this circumstance

serves most powerfully to remind us, that when we enter that sacred edifice we are to lay aside all earthly cares and imaginations-to banish from our minds all thoughts that savour of our existence in this present transitory world-to consider ourselves as having outstepped the contracted boundaries of time--as dead and buried to every thing that is fleeting and perishable; and thus to present ourselves before the dread Sovereign of eternity with hearts full of the thoughts of that boundless state of existence, whither those that sleep in dust are gone before us, that eternity of rest, and peace, and blessedness, of which a Christian Church is the type, and sign, and figure.-Rev. G. A. Chaplin's Sermon on behalf of the Church-Building Society.

BIRS NIMROD, or Nimrod's tower, believed to be the ancient tower of Babel, lies about six miles south-west of Hillah. It has the appearance of an oblong hill, the base of which is 2,082 feet in circumference. Rich reckons it 2,286. It may easily be conceived, that it is scarcely possible to fix in a positive manner the circumference of such a ruin. Its present height, reckoning to the bottom of the tower which crowns its summit, is 200 feet; the tower itself is thirty-five. Looking at it from the west, the entire mass rises at once from the plain in one stupendous, though irregular pyramidal hill. It is composed of fine bricks, kiln-baked. From the western side two of its stories may be distinctly seen; the first is about sixty feet high, cloven in the middle by deep ravines. The tower-like looking ruin on the summit is a solid mass, twenty-eight feet wide, of the most beautiful masonry; to all appearances it formed an angle of some square buildings, the ruins of which are yet to be seen on the eastern side. The cement which connects the bricks is so hard that it was impossible to chip the smallest piece; and for this reason none of the inscriptions can be copied, as they are always on the lower surface of the bricks. It is rent from the top nearly half-way to the bottom; and at its foot lay several unshapen masses of fine brick-work, still bearing traces of a violent fire, which has given them a vitrified appearance, whence it has been conjectured that it has been struck by lightning. The appearance of the hill on the eastern side evidently shews that this enormous mass has been reduced more than onehalf. Only three stories of the eight which it formerly contained can now be discerned. The earth about the bottom of the hill is now clear; but is again surrounded with walls, which form an oblong square, enclosing numerous heaps of rubbish, probably once the dwellings of the inferior deities, or of the priests and officers of the temple. The appearance of the tower of Nimrod is sublime even in its ruins. Clouds play around its summit; its recesses are inhabited by lions, three being quietly basking on its heights when Porter approached it: scarcely intimidated by the cries of the Arabs, they gradually and slowly descended into the plain. Thus the words of the prophet have been fulfilled: "Wild beasts of the desert shall be there; owls shall fill their houses, ostriches shall Jackalls dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there. shall howl in their palaces, and wild hounds in their pleasant places."—Sir R. Ker Porter.

IGNORANCE AND FORGETFULNESS.-To be ignorant of evils to come, and forgetful of evils past, is a merciful provision in nature, whereby we digest the mixture of our few and evil days; and our delivered senses not relapsing into cutting remembrances, our sorrows are not kept raw by the edge of repetitions.-Sir T. Browne.

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RELIGIOUS READING.

It is impossible duly to estimate the change produced in the world since the rapid multiplication of books by the modern facilities of printing has brought at least some measure of knowledge to every man's door. Indisputably much advantage has resulted from the wide promulgation of truth; but it may be doubted whether a habit of superficial reading has not also been fostered, and whether the mind, instead of being concentrated on a little which is most important, has not, in traversing a larger field, gathered much that is of no value. Perhaps its fine gold has been alloyed, and its wine diluted with water. Perhaps, when heretofore the Bible was the only subject of study, its attention has been since diverted from that to merely human expositions.

It would be as vain to attempt to check the torrent of new books pouring into the world as it would to bid the billows of the ocean stay. The practical question, therefore, is not so much to debate whether this torrent be useful, as to inquire how we may best turn it into a profitable channel. Books will be published, and persons will read; if, then, the servant of God draw back, he gives place to the emissary of Satan; if he hesitates in providing wholesome food, the appetite that is generated will supply itself with poison. He must therefore actively perform his part, and must do his utmost in employing the taste, the inventions, the habits of the age, for the most excellent end. He must strive to make the innumerable little rills, which every where are watering the land, borrow their supply

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from the water of life, and return their streams into it.

The Bible ought to be the beginning and the end of all religious reading; it is the standard by which every thing else must be measured, the touchstone by which every other book must be tried. Other authors are valuable, as they direct our attention to this; they are profitable, as they derive their knowledge from this source. They must make their continual appeal "to the law, and to the testimony: if they speak not. according to this word, it is because there is no light in them." The errors which have been introduced into the world have sprung either from the perversion, or from the neglect of the Bible. Men have put away the divine teacher, and have leaned to their own understandings, or they have not chosen to receive its declarations in simplicity of heart, and have put interpretations upon them which they never were intended to bear. And as even in the best and wisest book that ever proceeded altogether from a human pen there is much that is uncertain, and much that is imperfect, no man can be assured of his security in the way of truth, unless he is perpetually examining the guides which men have set up, by that light which was given from on high to be a lantern to his path.

I have often thought that the authorised formularies of our Church supply us with a very valuable hint as to our religious reading. The mode in which they are framed, so as to present the body and substance of the Scripture, and yet to exhibit all the variety and minuteness of personal and domestic wants; the perpetual reference that is made

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in them to the authority of the divine word; and the close and simple accordance which exists in them to that,-are an admirable example how truth may be invested with the freshest interest, and yet never quit the good old paths. If the spirit of our public services be followed out in the seasons devoted to private improvement, it will be well; we shall then be sustained with solid nutriment instead of mere empty speculation; we shall acquire the best knowledge, we shall be built up most soundly in our most holy faith.

I would suggest, therefore, that in the choice of books for religious reading those are to be preferred which aim particularly at expounding or illustrating the Scriptures. The works of our older divines, especially of the reformers, are herein most valuable. You see that the minds from which those volumes flowed were themselves most deeply imbued with scriptural truth; and, as out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, these writings absolutely glow with light derived from the inspired source, and sparkle with gems selected from the divine treasury. The result is, that a reader rises from the perusal of them with a sharpened appetite for the sacred volume itself; and is stirred up to draw with more anxiety water from those wells of salvation to which they so frequently resorted. It is of the greatest importance for children and young persons to be directed by their parents to reading of this kind; else, if a desultory habit be engendered in early life, if a fondness be implanted for books of a less wholesome character, it will be with the utmost difficulty afterwards eradicated. And it may be laid down as a rule from what I have already said, that those works which indispose the mind to Scripture reading, which cause a person to take up afterwards the Bible with less relish, are more or less injurious. Those which encourage speculation, which, leaving out the "weightier matters," busy themselves about topics that are of little practical value, are injurious. Religious novels, I must say, I consider as especially exposed to this censure. No one rises from them more desirous to peruse the Bible, but rather willing to seek out hereafter more amusement, and less accompanying admonition. And the argument which is generally urged in their favour,-it is, in fact, the only argument their supporters have-that individuals may be won by them who would not even touch a book where truth was exhibited in a more didactic form,-this argument I consider of little weight. If such works fell exclusively into the hands of persons estranged altogether from religion, perhaps

they would do them little harm, and might do them some good. But as in by far the greater number of instances they are read by those who would read other religious books, they serve chiefly to lower rather than to raise the standard of truth in the world. It is possible they may now and then lead an individual to the Bible; it is certain that very frequently they lead individuals from it.

I have now only to add, that religious reading should be conducted in a spirit of perpetual Scripture reference. The Bible should be always at hand, to correct, to strengthen, to improve the notions we may elsewhere meet with. With an infallible guide to lean upon, but not otherwise, we may safely tread the devious paths of this world's instruction. We may then make even the imperfections we meet with in other works profitable to us, when we see how far the wisest and the holiest men, with all the advantages of intellect, and all the appliances of learning, have fallen short of the unlettered but inspired peasants of Galilee. We shall come to the humbling conclusion of the apostle, that "God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty, and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are; that no flesh should glory in his presence.' C.

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PASSING THOUGHTS.-No. XVII.

BY CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH.

Dreaming.

AMONG the many beauties of Campbell's earlier poetry, and, indeed, in the whole collection of our lighter modern lyrics, there is nothing more true to nature than the little piece called "The Soldier's Dream." So short as to become a favourite song, it contains within it the story of a life; and I question whether among men there is one whose heart's recess it would not reach. The contrast between present and past is slightly, yet how powerfully sketched! The soldier, who bivouacs

"Where thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die," represents himself in a situation that combines as many images of hardship, horror, and peril, as ever were compressed into two lines:

"Reposing that night on my pallet of straw,

By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain;" and then comes the exquisite transition to all that is soft, and familiar, and endearing, in the tranquillity of rural scenery:

"I flew to the pleasant fields, travers'd so oft

In life's morning-watch, when my bosom was young;

I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,
And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung."

This gem of a poem will probably commend itself | to the feelings, just in proportion as the contrast is marked, and deep, and striking, between what is and what has been. The traveller who, from a distant spot, where clouds are louring and the rough breeze assailing him, looks back to behold the home he has quitted, with all its sweet associations gathered round it, lying just within the range of a slanting sunbeam, and thereby thrown out in warm and beautiful relief from the shadowy region that interposes-such a traveller will linger to gaze on the past with feelings peculiar to the dark and dreary present. Thus it is with the dreamer, who, during the hours of sleep, has been carried back to scenes long lost, and heard the tone of voices long silent. He cannot recall the sweet vision, but he eloses his eye and summons memory to recount to him what memory has recently shewn him. She has, as it were, unlocked the casket containing jewels that once were his, but now are hers enly; and feasted his sight with what has for ever ended his grasp. And he submits, for it is the universal lot of man; but he sighs over the treasure that never looked so lovely as when for ever lost.

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How wonderful is this faculty of the mind! I write under the impression of recent experience, having retraced in a dream the beloved haunts of early years, expatiating, as I thought, to one who had never before seen them, on the various objects, the noble relics of antiquity, and beautiful intermixture of orchard and garden-ground. At one spot I paused-it was an old brick house, placed back in a neglected, overgrown shrubbery. That building I have not seen for nearly a quarter of a century, nor has any circumstance brought it to my remembrance. I never visited the inmates, but merely knew their name as residents there. I had long forgotten that name, and stood, as it seemed, for a few moments, until enabled to recall it. I awoke with a vivid recollection of all the minutia connected with the old house-never remarkable for any thing to me or others—and with the aspect of its former inhabitants portrayed with the liveliest fidelity to my mental view. In all this there was nothing extraordinary, merely because every body has experienced something similar. Yet, among the phenomena of mind, as acted upon by external circumstances, this faculty of receiving the impression of an indifferent object, retaining it through a series of years amid a multitude of after-impressions,—I may say burnt into it, such was the severity of the stamp,- and restoring it on demand, is most wonderful. It is a part of the mystery of our compound being that makes itself felt; it strikes a chord, causing the whole heart to vibrate; it brings home to us the beautiful remark of Chalmers, that every man has in himself his own peculiar and exclusive world, into the recesses of which the dearest, the most sympathising of friends cannot enter.

There breathes not the mortal to whom I could unfold the long chain of recollections revived by the single idea of a passing dream. Some would listen, would try to sympathise, but, except by transferring the feeling to their own bosoms, and connecting with it their individual experience, no sympathy could they afford; nor would that be a real participation of my thoughts, but an awakening of their own. There is only one to whom the desolate heart can turn with the

deep and sweet conviction that He knows all. An awful consideration indeed, when we call to mind the innumerable transgressions that stand recorded together with those scenes and events; but to him who is in Christ Jesus, him to whom there is now no condemnation, being redeemed from the curse of the law, and brought nigh to a reconciled Father, it is a thought full of heavenly consolation. The heart knoweth its own bitterness; God is greater than the heart, and knoweth all things. If in his wise dispensations he has seen good to crush the flowers, and to suffer many thorns to remain, he knows the sweetness of the former, the keen points of the latter, and weighs in a just balance the burden that he has laid on his child. He does not, like our fellow-man, make light of the sorrow, nor, like ourselves, view it in exaggerated proportions; but, with the perfection of wisdom, knowledge, and tender compassion, "He knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are but dust." It is astonishing with what soothing power a dream may come across a harassed mind, blunting the edge of the present with sweet remembrances of the past; and I should be slow to deny to the God of all consolation the praise due for this mercy. Those who from a distempered digestion, or otherwise, are habitually oppressed by gloomy and terrific dreams, scruple not to pray against the visitation; why should they whose bosom is soothed by visions of a very opposite tendency, hesitate to render thanks to the Giver, not only of the staff that supports our pilgrim-step on the heavenward path, but of the little wild-flower that flings a breath of momentary fragrance across it?

Biography.

THE LIFE OF WILLIAM BEDELL, BISHOP OF KILMORE.

WILLIAM BEDELL was born at Black Notley in Essex, in 1570, and was the younger son of an ancient family, to the estates of which his own son afterwards succeeded. He was educated at Emmanuel, Cambridge, ordained by the suffragan Bishop of Colchester, chosen a fellow of his college, and became B.D. in 1599. From Cambridge he went to Bury St. Edmunds, where his ministry was distinguished for its faithfulness and zeal; and on Sir Henry Wotton's going ambassador to Venice in the reign of James I., he went as chaplain. Mr. Wadsworth, a fellow-student, going at the same time as chaplain to the embassy to Spain, was led to embrace popery, which gave rise to a long correspondence between these two former associates, and which illustrated the abilities and reading of the former, although the latter never acknowledged that he was convinced by it of his error.* Mr. Bedell arrived at Venice at a very critical juncture, the disputes between that republic and the Romish see being then at their height; and it is said, that on account of his influence with Father Paul, † he had nearly emancipated Venice from popish thraldom. After remaining at Venice eight years, during which he applied zealously to the study of Hebrew, under the instruction of the heads of the Jewish synagogue, and gained a thorough knowledge of Italian, he returned to England, and resumed his

The son of Mr. Wadsworth visited the bishop when at Kilmore, and declared that he was a protestant. He said his father had brought him up as such, being anxious, as he affirmed, to save This is a strong evidence, that though he did not publicly acknowledge his error, yet conviction was wrought on his mind.

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Some account of Father Paul will be given in a future

Number.

charge at Bury. He was accompanied by Despotine, a physician, who had embraced protestantism, and who got into good practice at Bury: and by Antonio de Dominis, archbishop of Spalatro in Dalmatia, who had also renounced popery.

Sir Thomas Jermyn, vice-chamberlain to Charles I., presented Mr. Bedell to the living of Horingsheath, in the diocese of Norwich, in 1615. The tenderness of his conscience, and the firmness of his mind, were powerfully illustrated on his institution. Exorbitant fees were demanded, which he would not pay, regarding it as simoniacal in the bishop. He pointed out the injustice of the claim made; and after a refusal in the first instance on the bishop's part, ultimately obtained his necessary papers without the fee. He resided on this benefice twelve years, in great privacy, devoting himself entirely to the interests of his flock, and carrying on the correspondence with Mr. Wadsworth already adverted to. At the period referred to, the doctrines of the Reformation were less prominently held forth. The influence of those about the court was opposed to them in all their purity; and as Mr. Bedell was a faithful preacher of these doctrines, it is not improbable that his abilities were suffered to remain buried. He was, however, appointed head of Trinity College, Dublin, in 1626-an office on which he entered with much diffidence, and the duties of which he faithfully discharged.

To Archbishop Usher and the fellows of the college he was personally unknown, which made the appointment the more unexpected. The archbishop and fellows were so desirous that he should accept the office, that they petitioned the king to command him to do so. Sir Henry Wotton wrote to the king, urging him to comply with the petition, and, referring to Mr. Bedell, said: Hardly a fitter man could have been propounded to your majesty, in your whole kingdom, for singular erudition and piety, conformity to the rites of the Church, and zeal to advance the cause of God."

The tone of Mr. Bedell's mind, his want of ambition, and his entire acquiescence with the Divine will, are powerfully set forth in his remarks with reference to his acceptance of the appointment. “I am married, and have three children; therefore, if the place requires a single man, the business is at an end. I have no want, I thank my God, of any thing necessary for this life. I have a competent living of above 1007. a-year, in a good air and seat, with a very convenient house near to my friends, and a little parish not exceeding the compass of my weak voice. I have

often heard it, that changing seldom brings the better, especially to those that are well. And I see well that my wife, though resolving, as she ought, to be contented with whatsoever God shall appoint, had rather continue with her friends in her native country, than put herself into the hazard of the seas and a foreign land, with many casualties of travel, which she perhaps, out of fear, apprehends more than there is cause. All these reasons I have, if I consult with flesh and blood, which move me to reject this offer. Yet, with all humble and dutiful thanks to my lord primate for his mind and good opinion of me, on the other side, I consider the end wherefore I came into the world, and the business of a subject of our Lord Jesus Christ, of a minister of the Gospel, of a good patriot, and of an honest man. If I may be of any better use to my country, or to God's Church, or of any better service

The archbishop was received in England with great respect, and both preached and wrote against popery. But he was never truly convinced of his former errors; and his conduct, haughty and self-suflicient, made him many enemies. When Gregory XIV., who had been his schoolfellow, was made pope, the archbishop was induced, by the advice of Gondamer, the Spanish ambassador, to recant, in the hope of obtaining a cardinal's hat. But he was regarded with not unmerited suspicion, and was thrown into the prisons of the Inquisition: but before his trial he was poisoned, his body thrown out of a window, and his property confiscated to the pope.

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to our common Master, I must close mine eyes against all private respects; and if God call me, I must answer, 'Here I am.' For my part, therefore, I will not stir one foot, or lift up my finger for or against this motion; but if it proceed from the Lord-that is, if those whom it concerns there do procure those who may command me here to send me thither, I shall obey, if it were not only to go into Ireland, but into Virginia; yea, though I were not only to meet with troubles, dangers, and difficulties, but with death itself in the performance." About two years afterwards he was appointed Bishop of Kilmore and Ardagh, through the influence of Sir Thomas Jermyn.

Bishop Bedell found his dioceses in a deplorable state. The revenues of the see were almost entirely wasted, and benefices had been sold in a most disgraceful manner. The clergy in each diocese did not exceed eight; they had many churches to serve; and being Englishmen, unacquainted with the Irish language, were incapable of instructing the people. The cathedral of Ardagh, with the episcopal palace, was in ruins; that of Kilmore without bell or steeple, or the necessary vessels for the administration of the sacraments. The parish churches were in a most dilapidated state. The great majority of the people were papists, and wretchedly poor from paying double tithes, from the oppression of the ecclesiastical courts, the dearth of corn, mortality among the cattle, and the necessaries they were obliged to provide for the military stationed among them.

After the bishop had recovered a portion of the property of the see, he began to reform abuses. At a meeting of the clergy, he preached a solemn sermon on the duties of the Christian ministry; after which he exhorted them to remove what could not fail to mar their usefulness. He resigned himself the diocese of Ardagh, and the clergy relinquished their pluralities, with the exception of the dean, who, feeling ashamed to be the only exception, exchanged his deanery for another. The vacant livings caused by this laudable conduct of the clergy the bishop sought to fill with energetic and faithful men, who should always be resident, justly conceiving non-residence to be one of the greatest evils in the Church.

At his visitations the bishop always preached himself, and endeavoured to render those solemn meetings improving to all parties. He administered the Lord's supper on these occasions—a practice which might with much benefit be observed at the present day. It could not fail to have a beneficial effect, in adding to the solemnity of the occasion, and might tend to bind in a closer bond of Christian fellowship those who are invested with the responsible office of ministers of Christ. Visitations in Ireland were at that time attended with great pomp and much luxury and expense, which was a heavy weight upon the poorer clergy. The bishop, however, took only what was established by law and custom, entertaining the clergy out of the fees, and remitting the residue for the relief of poor prisoners. He directed his attention also to the reformation of his own spiritual court, the proceedings of which required a thorough investigation; by which, as might be expected, he raised a host of enemies in those who had lived by fraud and

extortion.

The bishop strictly conformed to the ritual of the Church, the scriptural doctrines of which it was his aim to set forth in all their purity. He regularly attended the cathedral, always assisting at the service, and preached regularly twice on the Sunday on the epistle and gospel for the day, catechised in the afternoon before sermon, and preached twice a-year before the judges when on circuit. His voice was plaintive, and his manner marked with a singular gravity, which had a powerful effect upon his auditors.

The ordination of candidates for the ministry was always conducted by the bishop with the utmost

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