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stretches its broad level out to meet in quiet union the bended sky, and show in the line of meeting the vast rotundity of the world.” — pp. 228—229.
“The sea is his, and he made it.' Its beauty is of God. It possesses it, in richness, of its own; it borrows it from earth, and air, and heaven. The clouds lend it the various dyes of their wardrobe, and throw down upon it the broad masses of their shadows, as they go sailing and sweeping by. The rainbow laves in it its many-colored feet. The sun loves to visit it, and the moon, and the glittering brotherhood of planets and stars; for they delight themselves in its beauty. The sunbeams return from it in showers of diamonds and glances of fire; the moonbeams find in it a pathway of silver, where they dance to and fro, with the breeze and the waves, through the livelong night. It has a light, too, of its own - a soft and sparkling light, rivalling the stars; and often does the ship which cuts its surface, leave streaming behind a milky way of dim and uncertain lustre, like that which is shining dimly above." – p. 230.
Who that has gazed on the great fall at Niagara does not feel the truth of these remarks; which yet those who have not seen that wonder of God's creation can hardly understand ;
“And the motion of these Falls, how wonderfully fine it is! how graceful, how stately, how calm! There is nothing in it hurried or headlong, as you might have supposed. The eye is so long in measuring the vast, and yet unacknowledged height, that they seem to move over almost slowly; the central and most voluminous portion of the Horse-shoe even goes down silently. The truth is, that pompous phrases cannot describe these Falls. Calm and deeply-meaning words should alone be used in speaking of them. Anything like hyperbole would degrade them, if they could be degraded. But they cannot be. Neither the words nor the deeds of man degrade or disturb them. There they pour over, in their collected might and digoified flowing, steadily, constantly, as they always have been pouring since they came from the hollow of His hand, and you can add nothing to them, nor can you take anything from them.”—pp. 298 — 299.
In a tone of impassioned, and yet subdued feeling, does he part with this glorious scene.
“Farewell, beautiful, holy creation of God! Flow on, in the garment of glory which he has given thee, and fill other souls, as thou hast filled mine, with wonder and praise. Often will my spirit be with thee, waking, and in dreams. But soon I shall pass away, and thou wilt remain. Flow on, then, for others' 1846.]
eyes, when mine are closed, and for others' hearts, when mine is cold. Still call to the deeps of many generations. Still utter the instructions of the Creator to wayfaring spirits, till thou hast fulfilled thy work, and they have all returned, like wearied travellers, to their home.”
pp. 307-308. A few passages are all that we can take from the “ Journal.” His first impressions of Oxford, how just were they, and how well described.
“A place of palaces, and pinnacles, and spires; a city of delight and glory! where learning wears the diadem and sceptre, and is clothed in purple and furred robes, and is lodged in royal houses; where her walk is through fretted aisles and beneath gilded domes; where her contemplations are among the effigies of the wise and mighty who sleep, and where her seat is with the noblest in the realm. It is really quite elevating to visit this city, and I think no one, who has any taste or respect for literature or antiquity, can pass through the High street of Oxford without emotion; without having his soul filled with veneration and pleasure, at the view of the long-extended lines of colleges and halls, which were raised by the munificence of kings, and prelates, and great men, and which have nursed so many of the choicest spirits of so many ages,
Two or three times did I walk up and down this noble street, absorbed in the crowding thoughts and associations with which the place is connected in the mind of every votary of learning, though he be the humblest, and enjoying, in reality, a scene which my imagination had often busied itself in painting and varying. The buildings of the university are dispersed in the city without any order of arrangement, though the great body of them are situated on each side of High street, either directly upon or very near it. The shops, dwellinghouses, and churches, which are mixed with the colleges in this street, are some of them elegant, all of them handsome; and it is terminated on the left, toward London, by the beautifully proportioned tower of Magdalen College, which alone might be a sufficient boast for any city. The stone of which the university buildings are chiefly constructed is of a sombre gray color, and peels off in flakes on its external surface; not so, however, as to cause essential injury to the structure, except in its parts of nicer workmanship. Evening approached, and I deferred viewing the interior of the colleges till the next morning." — pp. 68 -70.
Dr. Greenwood's delight in ecclesiastical architecture appears at every opportunity for its expression. When the doubt arose whether he should take the Southampton or the Salisbury route on his way from London to Exeter, “ Salisbury has a cathedral,” says he, "and Southampton has not, and this was quite enough to decide me." His mind, however, was never seduced from the integrity of a sound judgment. At Winchester he says:
“The choir is extremely beautiful; and I must confess that though the fine chanting, and the solemnity of the service, prevented me from wandering till it was completed, I paid more earnest and reverential attention to the grand eastern window, with its mullions, and tracery, and old painted glass, the masterly groining of the roof, the bishop's throne of time-stained oak, lightly rising in gothic open work, till it alınost touched the ceiling, and the rich carved work in oak and stone, which was lavished all around me, than I did to the sleepy discourse and drowsy tones of the old gentleman who was handling some subject or other in the pulpit, I know not what, as well as he knew how. Between the works of men of different countries, different ages, and different persuasions, there is a difference as wide; but men themselves are still the same. In the splendid arches, and with the affecting service of the cathedral, there is not a whit more of genuine piety and elevation of thought than there is beneath the plain roof and with the plainer service of the meeting-house or the convention conventicle?] Go not, therefore, into one of these glorious edifices with the expectation of joining in the worship of the Almighty, with those whose hearts are melted and whose minds are exalted by every sublime association and aid in the performance of their holiest duty; for you will still meet with the indifferent, the trifling, the vain, the worthless and the worldly; and as the fat monk and the trim baron muttered and kneeled there in days long gone, so you will find the dull priest and the dandy gentleman, preaching, and praying, and chanting there still.”-pp. 125, 126.
In a letter to a friend written from Devonshire we find a passage which is too faithful a description of his own tastes — to say nothing of its pleasant humor — to be omitted.
“I am not sorry to hear that the liberals and reasonables are so earnestly driving the quill, because discussion will do no harm to truth; but you know that I like the pugilistic temper as little as you do, and that I am as much teazed as yourself by the disposition, manifested by some, to blow the trumpet in Zion so long, and loud, and bloodily, that the peaceable dwellers therein shall have never a moment of rest, and of accusing all who will not go up to Ramoth Gilead to battle, of disaffection to the true 1846.]
We both think that it is exceedingly troublesome to be perpetually cased in armor; to breakfast, dine, sup, and sleep with harness on the back; and not only so, but to mount the steed, set the spear in rest, and sally forth to the lists, for the pleasure of breaking lances or noddles with every champion who dares take up the gauntlet against us. And we both have an idea, that by minding our official and domestic duties in a quiet way, and teaching others, as well as we can, to mind theirs
not refusing, the while, to lend a hand, for exercise sake, to a righteous quarrel, when we see occasion we may chance to do almost as much good, and be almost as good sort of folk, as if we went through life with a doubled fist."
The sketch of Mr. Belsham, though brief, is sufficient to set him distinctly before our view.
" August 5. I breakfasted this morning with the cham and chief of living Unitarians, the Rev. Thomas Belsham;a round, sensible, good-natured head, a short person, and very corpulent; kind and affable in his manners, interesting and communicative in his conversation, and devoid of all arrogance and affectation in his address. He inquired particularly about our common friends in America, and spoke with affectionate remembrance of my lamented predecessor, Mr. Thacher. I observed with pleasure, on the walls of the room, besides the portraits of most of the distinguished Unitarians, those of several of our own great men.” — pp. 86, 87.
“ August 6. I dined with Mr. Belsham, and heard him preach both parts of the day. His sermons were by far the best that I have yet heard in England; full of thought, and calculated to set one's thoughts to work. He used no gesture whatever ; his hands hung unemployed by his side, or were only employed to turn the leaves of his manuscript. The interior of the chapel is neat and simple, and under the same roof with the minister's house; there being a communication between them by a door, an excellent accommodation to the preacher in hot, cold, or bad weather of any kind. The premises in Essex street are the same which were taken and improved by Mr. B.'s predecessor, the Rev. Theophilus Lindsey. The congregation was tolerably numerous in the morning, notwithstanding the rain; but very thin in the afternoon. This was, I understood, the usual course of alternation; the house being well filled, and often crowded, in the first service, and almost deserted in the second.” — pp. 87, 88.
The volume before us contains a single poetical piece, written after his visit to Glastonbury Abbey. As a not unsuccessful imitation of the old ballad, it is worthy of notice. "A verie pithie and mournful Ballate of Glassenbury Abbey, and the Abbott and Freres thereof: Right profitable unto alle godlie soules that in these backslidinge tymes doe nathelesse cease not
to honour Scte Joseph and our Lady.
They hangid the Abbott on Michael's hille,
And they seized on his church and lande ; For so it was stoute kynge Harry's wille,
Whose wille there mote none withstande.
They smote on the walles of the Abbey fayre,
And spoyled its high roofe of stone;
They pullid down one by one.
Its tenante now is the boding crowe,
In stedde of the hooded friar;
The ferne and the white-blossomed briar.
Its altar the pilgrim he seeketh no more
From the lande of another sunne,
And Mattines and Vespers are done.
And the brethren, so holie, are scattered abroad,
To labour, to begge, and to die; Withouten a frende
— but their pittying Lord, And our Ladie that sitteth on high.
But laughe not, proude Harry, nor joie in thy strengthe,
For thou, too, in Ruinnes shalt falle,
Despight of thy stronge pallace walle.
And ruinne to thee shalle be darknesse and shame,
Foulle wormes, crumbling bones, and coulde clay; While the Abbey, though ruinned, shalle flourishe in fame,
And looke fayre in the swete light of daie.
The Stranger from farre distante shoares shall come here,
Its beauteouse relickes to see,
And a curse, cruelle monarcke, to thee."
Pp. 177, 178.