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seldom swerves aside. Often he expresses a truth with an epigrammatic terseness and point that rivet it on the memory. "There are people who would do great acts; but because they wait for great opportunities, life passes, and the acts of love are not done at all."

"The charm of the words of great men, whose grand sayings, which are recognised as true as soon as heard, is this, that you recognise them as wisdom which has passed across your own mind."

"National revolution is only the Divine rejection stamped on the social falsehood."

"He is already half-false who speculates on truth and does not do it."

But all this is secondary. With Mr. Robertson style is but the vehicle, not the substitute for thought. Eloquence, poetry, scholarship, originality - his sermons show proof enough of these to put him on a level with the foremost men of his time. But, after all, their charm lies in the warm, loving, sympathetic heart, in the well-disciplined mind of the tried Christian, in his noble scorn of all lies, of all things mean and crooked, in his brave battling for right, even when wrong seems crowned with success, in his honest simplicity and singleness of purpose, in the high and holy tone, as if, amid the discord of earth, he heard clear, though far off, the perfect harmony of heaven, in the fiery earnestness of his love for Christ, the devotion of his whole being to the goodness and truth revealed in Him.

It is a good and hopeful sign of our times, that a book like that under review has run through three editions in less than two years; and we would earnestly recommend our readers to make its acquaintance, that they may enjoy for

themselves a pleasure and profit which will increase with each perusal. It is not likely that they will agree with all Mr. Robertson's statements. There are some defects in his sermons and services that we cannot let pass without notice. An independent, and, at the same time, ardent man, is not always a cautious teacher; while the period of reaction in which Mr. Robertson lived, and for which he was admirably adapted, has yet marked him with some of its peculiar

faults.

When combatting one-sided views of great truths, he is sometimes one-sided himself. Wishing to bring back into men's minds truths which have been unwisely forgotten, he sometimes forgets those which have been wisely remembered. Hence there is an occasional incompleteness in his representation of some of the cardinal doctrines of our common faith. His rebound from error in the one direction led him into error in the opposite. To these faults we shall have occasion to return, contenting ourselves, at present, with the expression of our regret that they should exist, and thus thwart, though we trust but slightly, the good which the sermons are capable of effecting. His object was not to make them believe as he did, but to help them to a deeper and clearer knowledge of the gospel of Jesus Christ than they, or perhaps than he had. It is not in his particular opinions that his strength and influence lie, it is in his general tone and tendency. His sermons must be read thoughtfully-they cannot but be read admiringly-but they are not to be read he would have been the last to wish them to be read-credulously.

RELIGIOUS AWAKENING IN A FACTORY.

Ar the time the following letters were written, not the most distant idea was entertained that they would ever be published. They relate to a remarkable movement in one of the great centres of our manufacturing industry, and were written a few months ago to a friend. Instead of casting them into a narrative form, it

has been thought better to print them' with a few verbal alterations, precisely as they were written at the time. They will probably thus convey a more distinct idea of the impression made upon the writer's mind by the scenes of which he was then a witness. The names of persons and places are suppressed, for rea

sons which will at once suggest themselves to all who take an interest in the things here spoken of. It is only necessary to add, that in the letters there is no attempt at exaggeration.

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meeting that all the conversions take place. The boys are alarmed and agitated about their spiritual state; they are spoken pointedly to, are urged to repentance, especially to present, earnest prayer for repentance; they pray more or less coherently, sometimes appear as if overwhelmed in distress, recapitulate the same thing again and again, cry for pardon, are heard and answered on the spot, pass from the depths of sorrow into ecstatic joy, and rise from their knees converted, and joyful to a degree not in any measure conceivable unless seen. Such is the general rule, and it would seem to apply not only to those who remain of their own accord, but to those also who, as is frequently the case, are brought in by their companions. The most singular fact stated in connection with this is, that it is not the very wild boys who are most deeply impressed, but rather those who had seemed previously to be most under religious impressions, and of whom Mr.

My dear You asked me to write to you if I were in a writing humour. I can perhaps hardly pretend to be so, after a day's wandering through this place; but I must endeavour to give you some account of my first visit to so strange, I cannot yet venture to say so striking, is the impression produced upon my mind. Having missed Mr. yesterday, I was there to-day again about 10 A.M., and was immediately introduced to the man whom I had been so anxious to see. All attempt to describe his general appearance must for the present be let alone; and I shall therefore only say, that at first he seems almost indisposed to speak, waiting for one to state his object and tell his tale in a manner rather calculated to embarrass than to encourage, and requiring one to have a somewhat positive end in view, if he would not run the risk of an instructive silence, which would tell him more forcibly than words that he had better be in and away. I was accordingly compelled at once to take to questioning; and having asked him whether he had yet been able to complete some papers on which I knew he had been engaged, was answered that for a good while past he had really had no leisure to think of anything of the kind; for a work had been going on lately which seemed to be the crown of all that had been done-a revival, similar, if I had read the book, to those spoken of in the life of M'Cheyne; and then out came the story. It would appear that there had lately been preaching in the neighbourhood a Mr. -,who, owing to his having been the instrument of some awakening in another part of the country, where at the time he was acting as a curate, had had some misunderstanding with his superior, and had been recommended to resign his situation. He had hardly been appointed to the office which he now holds, before symptoms of a similar work appeared amongst the boys and young men under Mr. 's care. His style of address would seem to be of the alarming character, and the means which he employs much the same as those resorted to by the Burnses and M'Cheyne,-viz. very frequent prayer-meetings, at present every night, and then, at the close of each, a second prayer-meeting for those who are anxious about their souls, and will stay behind. It is at this second

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would have said that there was nothing further to be desired. The spirit of some of these boys was described by Mr. as being of the most beautiful and "glorious" kind; their language, prayer especially, so simple, fervent, full of faith, indicating such nearness of communion with God, that nothing like it had ever come under his observation. Nor was this all; for the anxiety manifested by them to bring their companions to the same state of mind was wonderful. No sooner were they converted themselves than they could not rest till they brought their companions to be so too. And in all their work and relations to their masters, &c., they were everything that could be wished. That some fell a little away, was undeniable; but others again indicated the reality of the effect produced on them, by their misery when betrayed into any sin. had no doubt whatever that all this was a real work of God. He had doubtless wondered at first, but could hesitate no longer: the fruit was too palpable to be denied.

Mr.

Such, then, are the statements made to me to-day. Till I go over to these prayer-meetings, which I mean to do, I can give little opinion upon the point. I made no secret to Mr. hesitation, and even expressed my hope of my that the effect might not be to mar the real work which he had done before. But he would not acknowledge that work at all. It now appears to him a failure. He had been working to make men Christians from without, and now he was taught that a change of heart could alone accomplish that end,—an inner

work, leading to the outward and not from
it. All this, you will allow, to say the least
of it, is remarkable; for I should add
that, while Mr. described what
had been going on, every mark of deep
sincerity shewed itself in that rich, ear-
nest tone of voice which can only come
from the heart, and that his eye filled
with intelligence and calm religious zeal.
Yet it is strange to hear conversion
spoken of in that way. Such a one was
converted last night; such another, an-
I must look
other night; and so on.
further into it, and would fain be guided
to a right conclusion. I have left myself
no time to speak of the impressions pro-
duced on me by the appearance of the
factory and the various classes of work-
ers. They were very delightful. That
a real work has been going on there
seems most certain, and it is most re-
freshing to turn to it from the humbug,
fustian, cant, selfishness, palaver, and
pharisaism of many of our public schemes,
and from the well meant but misguided
efforts of others. When will men learn
that all their guineas, speeches, com-
mittees, and applauses of the fair, are not
worth one word of true sympathy or one
act of real love? Rotten sticks they
are. Would only that they could all
be put into one huge pile and that I
might have the kindling of it. Let me
hear from you. Very truly yours,

My dear-
-Having given you,
so far, at least, in a previous letter, an
account of what I had heard was going
it is necessary for me now,
in as few words as possible, to complete
my narrative. It was last night before
and I were able to find time for

on at --

so distant a journey as that to
and, unfortunately, from having been
misled as to the way, we arrived at least
half an hour later than we intended.
The prayer meetings begin at 8 PM.
It was 8.30 before we reached the spot.
They are held in a school-room behind
and close by a fence surrounding
a great focus of all idleness and de-
bauchery. The room, when we entered,
was almost perfectly full, and at the
distant end of it Mr. was reading
an address. I imagine that the address
was his own composition entirely. It
was simple, earnest, and often forcible,
and read in a clear, natural tone of voice,
without exaggeration either in tone or
manner. Occasionally he paused and
spoke a few words extempore, but there
was very little of that. The object of
the address seemed to be to point out
the difference between several classes of

character which had a fair appearance
and real conversion, and at the same
time to urge to the latter without delay.
One or two anecdotes of the painful kind
were told by him, such, e.g., as one of a
minister's son who attended some revival
meetings to which his parents urged him,
but absolutely refused to yield his heart
to God. After the meetings were over,
his mother resumed her entreaties in
private, till at last he broke out: "I
would rather be damned than yield."
In a moment he fell at her feet a corpse,
crying out, "I am damned, I am damned."
The meeting was very attentive and
serious, but there were no audible ex-
pressions of feeling during the address.
called upon a
At its close, Mr.
young man to pray. The prayer was
The ex-
pretty long and very earnest.
pressions of that prayer, and of those
that followed, were those of plain, un-
educated, simple-minded lads, who were
rather earnestly crying for a particular
blessing at that moment to the meeting,
than praying in any connected or pre-
viously thought of manner. There were
accordingly innumerable repetitions, not
only of the same thought, but even of
the same words, yet spoken with such
force, and with apparently such entire
forgetfulness on the part of the speaker
that there was an audience round him,
that it would be very unfair to find fault.
During this first prayer there was a low
murmur of repetitions, responses, amens,
At its close a
&c., through the room.
second lad was called upon to pray, all
being still on their knees. This prayer
was much in the same strain, and pro-
duced much the same effect as the former.
A third was then called on. It was a
boy's voice that now sounded through
the room, clear, earnest, almost impas-
sioned. The prayer was not marked by
much more variety of thought than the
two previous ones, but the clear, bell-
like tones of the youthful voice, the very
great fluency and correctness of expres-
sion, the numerous allusions to the ad-
dress which we had heard, the total
forgetfulness of any other presence than
God's, the depth of earnestness, the
almost sobbing agony with which much
of it was poured forth, made it produce
The
a much more powerful effect.
responses became far more general and
loud, and frequently I thought that I
At its
heard distinct sobs and groans.
close, intimation was made that the
second meeting would now go on, and
the anxious were invited to remain. A
very considerable number did so, espe-
cially young men, but also some young

women and a good many boys. A hymn was first given out and very well sung. Then Mr. proposed that they should sing upon their knees the piece, "I will arise," &c. I don't know whether you are acquainted with it, but it was the first time I ever found a most artistic piece of music associated with a moment of so much religious feeling. At its close a young man began to pray; the responses began as before, but gradually as he went on they became louder and louder, until at last it was plain that his voice was only a sort of occasional guide to the loud and earnest prayers which every one was pouring forth from every corner of the room. At last the guide's voice fell entirely away, but there was not the slightest cessation of the prayers and exclamations now rising from all present. Occasionally there were slight lulls, during which one could catch such expressions as, "O Jesus, hear us!" "Hear us, O God!" "O God, let us be thy children!" &c. But again the loud swell of sound arose, broken only occasionally by the clear sharp voice of some boy, or the deep sob of some young man, in their moments of more than usual excitement. I can really give you no right idea of this extraordinary scene, which must have continued for more than half-an-hour. Every one was absorbed either in himself or in the case of some unconverted youth by his side, for whose conversion he was praying. No disturbance was occasioned by Mr. going from one point or group to another, or by the retiring of a good many, either of their own accord or sent home by Mr. that they might rest before to-morrow's work. As time went on, some of those praying for companions beside them were joined by others, apparently for the purpose of aiding them; but no case of conversion was reported while we were present, and Mr.

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did not know whether any of them were likely to get through" that night or

not.

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Since the time when the above letters were written, the work has been still going on. In answer to a letter of inquiry upon the point, the gentleman most deeply interested in the whole matter says within the last few days: "The work is always a very anxious one, of course; but it is a most blessed one, and I am sure entirely of the Spirit of God, and He is still working wonderfully amongst us. There are new conversions still constantly taking place; but almost a happier thing even than this is, to see how by far the greater part of the earlier converts seem to go on deepening in their religion from week to week and month to month since their conversion. But I expect great times of sifting and trial yet."

Such times of sifting and trial undoubtedly await them. It will be the earnest prayer of every one interested in the kingdom of God, that through these times these young converts may be brought in triumph. If they are so, there will then be less need for concealing from the public the names of those more particularly interested in a work to whose success a time of quietness is at present necessary. Then only, too, will the full value of those most precious lessons which might be deduced from it, be fully known. In the meanwhile, it is of no small consequence to mark the opinion of one most thoroughly entitled to speak upon the point, that to the placing of the workman on his proper footing, to the introduction of right relations between him and his employers, not the mere general influence of Christianity as a system, but its saving power upon the heart is necessary. We are apt to forget this now-a-days, and perhaps to confine our

FEBRUARY]

THE EDINBURGH CHRISTIAN MAGAZINE.

selves too much to the simpler and easier method of seeking by reading-rooms, lecture-rooms, literature, wholesome amusements, well-regulated houses of entertainment, and so on-to heal our social ills, and save that large portion of the working classes which might otherwise be lost. Perhaps we shall be taught that, valuable as these are, there is a plan older and more valuable still, even "first the kingdom of God and his righteousness," and then "all other things shall be added unto us." Such is God's divinely appointed method; to that all other efforts surely should be kept subservient; from that they should all spring; that will guide them with the wisdom, and bless them with the power of heaven.

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When the sun of fortune shineth
Long and brightly on the heart,
Soon its faithfulness declineth,
Parched and dry in every part.

Then the plants of grace have faded
In the dry and burning soil;
Thorns and briers their growth have shaded
Earthly cares and earthly toil.

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SMALL WORKS AND GREAT MOTIVES.

THE life of every individual, like the real
history of the world, is made up of little
things. What we are generally taught
to regard as history-the account of the
decay of one empire, and the rise of
another; the catalogue of the vices of this
king, and the virtues of that; the narra-
tive of the plans of the Cabinet, and the
intrigues of the court; the record of dis-
coveries and inventions, of personal pa-
triotism or national valour, of revolutions
and sieges, and battles by land and sea,
-this, though generally regarded as the
sum and substance of history, is not
really so. Far humbler things form its
basis; out of much more common mate-
rials is it constructed. The efforts of the
obscure scholar in his study, the labours
of the clownish ploughman on the field,
the daily toil of the mechanic in his
workshop, of the clerk in his counting-
house, of the minister in his parish, of
the schoolmaster in his school-these
constitute the real ground-work of his

tory, and yield the elements of which it is composed. Being the narrative of facts, it is less dependent upon the brilliant schemes of the statesman which often are Utopean, and the profound tactics of the general which often are impracticable, than upon the heavy strokes of the blacksmith upon his anvil, and the steady shots of the meanest private in action or at drill. And the same is the case with individual life. It, too, is made up of little things. It is not so much concerned with great achievements, which rather shew its strength than compose its muscle, nor with solemn events, which rather mark its course than form its stream; it is not so much concerned with these as with common every-day duties which are essential to its very beingwith the simple requirements of friendship, which continually engird us, with the calls for charity which are heard wherever we go, with private domestic offices hourly circulating around the

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