ing determined upon renouncing his profession of the law, he retired, first to Huntingdon, and, two or three years afterwards, to Olney, in Buckinghamshire (at that time under the paftoral care of Mr. Newton, now Rector of St. Mary Woolnorth, London), in order to indulge, amidst rural scenes, those religious pleasures and occupations, which experience had taught him to value far above all that the polite or the busy world could afford. Another of his hymns expresses what he felt when entering on his retirement.

"Far from the world, O Lord! I flee, from strife and tumult far;
From scenes where Satan wages still his most successful war.
The calm retreat, the silent shade, with prayer and praise agree;
And seem, by thy sweet bounty, made for those who follow thee.
There, if thy Spirit touch the soul, and grace her mean abode,
Oh! with what peace, and joy, and love, she communes with her

God!

There, like the nightingale, she pours her solitary lays;
Nor asks a witness of her song, nor thirsts for human praise.
Author and Guardian of my life, sweet source of light divine,
And (all harmonious names in one) my Saviour, thou art mine!
What thanks I owe thee, and what love, a boundless, endless store,
Shall echo through the realins above, when time shall be no more!"

These two effusions of spiritual gratitude and joy describe the situation of Mr. Cowper's mind during the period of his life in which they were written. They are inferted, with fixty-fix more of his composition,* published by Mr. Newton, entitled Olney Hymns. An observation in Mr. Newton's preface to Mr. Cowper's poems, on the circumstances which occafioned his abode in Olney, is too interesting to be omitted. "By these steps (says he) the good hand of God, unknown to me, was providing for me one of the principal bleffings of my life; a friend and a counsellor, in whose company, for almost seven years, though we were seldom seven fucceffive hours separated, I always found new pleasure; a friend, who was not only a comfort to myself, but a bleffing to the affectionate poor people among whom I then lived."

* They are distinguished by the initial letter of bis sirname, C.

:

"Those of you (fays Mr. Greatheed, addressing the people of Olney) who, for thirty years past, have lived in the fear of God, can testify the truth of the remark laft quoted. Often have I heard described the amiable candescension with which he listened to your religious converse, the sympathy with which he foothed your diftreffes, and the wisdom with which he imparted need. ful advice. At your stated meetings for prayer (would there were fuch in every parish!) you have heard him, with benefit and delight, pour forth his heart before God, in earnest interceffion, with a devotion equally fimple, fublime, and fervent, adapted to the unusual combination of elevated genius, exquisite sensibility, and profound piety, that distinguished his mind. It was, I believe, only on such occafions as these, that his conftitutional diffidence was felt by him as a burden, during this happy portion of his life. I have heard him say, that when he expected to take the lead in your united prayers, his mind was greatly agitated for some hours preceding. But he obferved, that his trepidation wholly fubfided as foon as he began to speak in prayer; and that timidity, which he invariably felt at every appear•ance before his fellow-creatures, gave place to an awful, yet delightful confciousness of the prefence of his Saviour."

Mr. Cowper's walk with God in private, was confiftent with the folemnity and fervour of his focial engagements. Like the prophet Daniel, and the royal pialmist, he "kneeled three times a-day, and prayed, and gave thanks before his God," in retirement, beside the regular practice of domestic worship. His mind was stayed upon God; and, for an unusual course of years, it was kept in perfect peace. The corrupt dispositions, which have so strong a hold upon the human heart, appeared to be peculiarly suppressed in him; and when in any degree felt, they were lamented and refifted by him. His Hymns, mostly written during this part of his life, defcribe both the general tenor of his thoughts, and their occafional wanderings, with a force of expreffion dictated

by the liveliness of his feelings. While his attainments in the love of God were thus eminent, his Chriftian love to fellow-believers, and to all around him, was high'y exemplary. To a conduct void of offence to any individual, and marked with peculiar kindness to all who feared God, was added a beneficence fully proportioned to his ability, and exercised with the greatest modefty and difcretion.

The confolation which, after having endured the severest distress, he at that time derived from a life of faith in the Son of God, who loved him, and gave himfelf for him, he thus describes, in an affecting allegory.

"I was a stricken deer, that left the herd
Long since; with many an arrow, deep infix'd,
'My panting side was charg'd; when I withdrew
To seek a tranquil death in distant shades,
There was I found by one who had himself
Been hurt by the archers. In his side he bore,
And in his hands and feet, the cruel scars.
With gentle force soliciting the darts

He drew them forth, and heal'd, and bade me live."

THE TASK, B. iii.

This testimony to the truth, and folidity of that peace with God through our Lord Jesus Chrift, which is the privilege of them who are justified by faith, he published long after he had loft all enjoyment of its blessedness. But who would not have hoped to fee his path, like that of the fun, " fhine more and more unto the perfect day?" The degree and the duration of his spiritual comforts, had, perhaps, exceeded the ufual experience of pious people; and fome fufpenfion of them would not have seemed surprising; but who could have expected their total and final extinction? Without fome grofs provocation of the Holy Spirit, so dreadful a privation of peace and hope could hardly have been imagined; yet they who had the beft capacity and advantages for judging in this cafe, remain the most strenuous defenders, and warmest admirers of his universal deportment.Firmly as we are perfuaded, that mental happiness, which far exceeds in value every outward comfort, de

scends from the Father of our spirits, we cannot observe this inestimable bleffing utterly withdrawn from such a character as that just described, without calling to mind the language of the prophet Ifaiah, "My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, faith the Lord."

Mr. Cowper conceived some presentiment of this sad reverse as it drew near; and during a folitary walk in the fields, he composed a hymn, which is so expreffive of that faith and hope which he retained as long as he pofsessed himself, that although it is very familiarly known, we cannot forbear to introduce it in this place.

"God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs, and works his sov'reign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; the clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break in blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence he hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast, unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste, but sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err, and scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter, and he will make it plain."

Armed with like faith, let us contemplate the dreary path which Mr. Cowper trod. Many have visited its gloomy entrance, and some have been long bewildered in it; but few, perhaps, have traced, as he did, its whole extent. The steps by which he descended to it were fudden, and awfully precipitate. The bright, yet serene luftre, which had usually "marked the road that led him to the Lamb," was succeeded by impenetrable darkness. After the clearest views of the love of God, and the expansion of heart which he had enjoyed in his ways, his mind beca ne obfcured, confused, and dismayed. He concluded, as too many others have done under so sensible a change, and as the pfalmist in his infirmity was tempted to do, that "the Lord had caft him off; that he would be favourable no more; that his mercy was clean gone for ever!" That vivid imagination, which often attained the utmost limits of the sphere of reason, did but too easily transgress them; and his spirits, no longer sustained upon the wings of faith and hope, funk with their weight of natural depreffion, into the horrible abyss of absolute despair. In this state, his mind became immoveably fixed. He cherished an unalterable perfuafion, that the Lord, after having renewed him in holiness, had doomed him to everlasting perdition. The doctrines in which he had been established, directly opposed such a conclufion; and he remained still equally convinced of their general truth: but he supposed himself to be the only person that ever believed with the heart unto righteousness, and was, notwithstanding, excluded from salvation. In this state of mind, with a deplorable consistency, he ceased not only from attendance on public and domestic worship, but likewife from every attempt at private prayer; apprehending that for him to implore mercy, would be oppofing the determinate counsel of God.* Amidst these dreadful temptations, fuch was his unshaken submission to what he imagined the divine pleasure, that he was accustomed to fay, " if holding up my finger would save me from endless torments, I would not do it against the will of God." It was only at seasons, when, racked by the immediate expectation of being plunged into everlasting misery, his mind became wholly distracted, that he ever uttered a rebellious word against that God of love, whom his lamentable delusion transformed into an implacable oppressor. His efforts at felf-deftruction were repeatedly renewed; but they were stimulated by a strong impreffion, that God had commanded him to perpetrate this act; and he even supposed, that his involuntary failure in the performance had incurred the irrevocable vengeance of the Almighty! To this, and never to any other deficiency of obedience, did he usually ascribe his imaginary exclufion from mercy.

* When invited to attend public worship, he sometimes said, "Had I the universe, I would give it to go with you; but I dare not do it against the will of God."