when St. Paul's inner man "is made free, by the law of the spirit of life, in Christ Jesus, from the law of sin, which was in the members," is not this, in the completest sense, "se fugere?" (to leave himself behind). If Horace ask, "Quæ sit natura boni, summumque quid ejus?" our Saviour describes his true followers, as having not only made the discovery, but got possession of the treasure; for what but this, is "the one pearl of great price," to purchase which, the genuine Christian has parted with all? "Quid minuat curas, quid purè tranquillet?" says Horace. A text already quoted, Phil. iv. 6, 7., "Be careful for nothing," &c. &c.; and "the peace of God," &c., "shall keep your hearts," &c., answers his queries critically and superabundantly. "Quid te tibi reddat amicum?" St. Paul replies, "I would to God that not only thou, but all that hear me this day, were both almost, and altogether, such as I am." This, and this only, is the language of happiness, "The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy." What, again, is Horace's "animus æquus," but that which is the kernel of Christianity?" to be spiritually minded is life and peace." "Est Ulubris,” said he but St. Paul out-realised this far; for he found it in the inner prison, with his feet fast in the stocks. I deny not but, in this case, some extraordinary influences might have been afforded. But St. Paul's daily and hourly feeling was, "I can do all things through Christ that strengtheneth me." I say, his daily and hourly feeling, else he could not have said, "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content:" this is the avowal of a completely confirmed habit; which, however, rested essentially on that (almost) derived Omnipotence, with which he concludes his wonderful statement; which statement, by the way, Phil. iv. 11, 12, 13., is the solid reality of that which Horace dreamed about so sweetly in the aforesaid ode, "Descende cœlo," &c. "Auditis? an me ludit amabilis Quos et aquæ subeunt et auræ.”1 How instinctively does he here seize on the very images used by David, when he anticipates the happiness of true Christians, in the guidance and presence of Him who was "to feed his flock like a shepherd ?"" He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters." But the passage quoted above is what I chiefly allude to; in which Horace declares his readiness to go any where, if the Muses would only go with him, "Utcunque mecum vos eritis, libens." This sublime illusion is, in St. Paul, plain, downright fact. He is ready- not in a way of rant or enthusiasm, but in sober earnest-to go any where; because he has learned to enjoy himself in any circumstances, in virtue of those resources which he is ever deriving from Omnipotent goodness. David's high expression fitted him exactly: "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me."-" Insanientem na "Hear ye? or mocks my maddening brain Of false, but lovely, song? I hear, I wander through the groves That melt the heavenly throng." 66 vita Bosphorum tentabo," says Horace; but St. Paul describes a feeling which he had actually exerted. Thrice," says he, "I suffered shipwreck; a night and a day I have been in the deep. In journeyings often; in perils of waters; in perils of robbers; in perils by my own countrymen; in perils by the heathen; in perils in the city; in perils in the wilderness; in perils in the sea."-" But," as he says elsewhere, "none of these things move me, neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I may finish my course with joy." Am I not then warranted to maintain, that the very highest flight of Horace's fancy did not rise above St. Paul's Christianity? and that, consequently, this realises, not only the philosophical speculations, but the poetical dreams, of mental happiness? At first view, I might be thought to do little honour to Christianity, by supposing any parallel between its comforts and pleasures, and those which Horace hoped for from the influences of the Muses. But let an observation already made be kept in view; I mean, respecting the high moral feeling which the ode referred to glows with, and the attributes which are given to the imaginary deities invoked; and, I believe, it will be felt, that no mere Pagan could have conceived ideas more strongly marked, with the natural thirst of the human spirit, after divine, infinite good. If a middle link between Horace and St. Paul were necessary, I would point out Milton's invocation of the Blessed Spirit, in the beginning of the seventh book of the Paradise Lost, under the name of 66 Urania," "by that name If rightly thou art call'd," &c. &c. ; in which noble passage, the poetry of Horace is completely paralleled, and the Christian piety of St. Paul copied by a kindred spirit, imbibing heavenly influences from the same inexhaustible source; so that, where both are viewed from this middle point, the purple and gold with which Horace's cloud is arrayed, seems clearly an unconscious reflection of that yet unrisen sun, whose full light and warmth St. Paul is enjoying. Indeed, this, I think, holds good, in some degree, of all poetical sublimity; every image of the sublime, being, in my mind, a reflected ray of Deity; and Mr. Addison admirably observes," that one of the final causes of our delight in any thing that is great, may be this: The supreme Author of our being has so formed the soul of man, that nothing but Himself can be its last adequate and proper happiness. Because, therefore, a great part of our happiness must arise from the contemplation of His being, that He might give our souls a just relish of such a contemplation, He has made them naturally delight in the apprehension of what is great or unlimited." If we apply, then, this admirable remark to the passages which have been quoted from Horace, will not all I have said of their unconscious reference to the approaching blessedness of Christianity, acquire new strength? If every species of the sublime be, in some sort, a shadowing of Deity, and excite in the mind some tendency, however vague, toward the mysterious archetype of greatness, the rule must peculiarly hold good, in instances of the moral sublime. For it will scarcely be doubted, that moral nature has even a much higher capacity of rising to the sublime, than any thing physical or material; and I conceive it will be found, on an attentive view, that heathenism never produced grander instances of the moral sublime, than are to be found in some of the passages of Horace, which have been referred to, or in another not yet mentioned; I mean, that consummate picture of a just man, in the beginning of the third ode of the third book: "Justum et tenacem propositi virum Mente quatit solidâ, neque auster "Dux inquieti turbidus Adriæ, Nec fulminantis magna Jovis manus: Si fractus illabatur orbis Impavidum ferient ruinæ."1 I cannot help again asking, is not this St. Paul? In no human being, surely, was every possible part of this picture so substantially realised. One question only, therefore, remains to be answered, in order to make these observations apply to Christianity in general. Did St. Paul exemplify that complex of virtue and happiness, which heathen poetry, as well as heathen philosophy, thus panted for, as man's chief good, -in virtue of his apostolic endowments, or in consequence of his Christian graces? In that fortitude, that equanimity, that superiority to the world and to human frailty, that happy contentedness in all conditions, which so nobly marked his whole character and conduct, did he exhibit what was peculiar to him 1 The man of strong resolve, and just design, On the vex'd sea, when fierce tornadoes rise, Unscared he meets, unhurt survives thom alt. her fall |