THE PHILOSOPHY OF SOCIETY.

BY THE EDITOR.

Ir, therefore, the evils of social life come not legitimately from our passions, but from them only when carried to excess, nor from society itself, as built up on human nature, but only as it is artificially constructed, or badly administered, as I have endeavored heretofore to show, what would a wise man say, under this third and last division of our topic, respecting the removal of these evils from the world?

If they are only accidental, not organic, they are, of course, entirely unnecessary even on the present plan, and must be capable of being removed, without touching the structure of society as now in force. Were it not so, all attempts to reconstruct it would be fruitless, because the instincts producing and preserving this organism have ever been, and will always be, more powerful than any assumed or voluntary effort of the mind. Nature is decidedly too omnipotent for art. Instinct is not to be annihilated by mere will. Moreover, it is impossible to create the will, in a sufficient number of mankind, to effect a radical change in the social world. Society, as it now is, is the work of the human heart. Our relations are the relations of our loves. Such as they are, these loves will certainly remain, till some one can show us how, and then give us the desire, to reorganize our bodies and our minds.

Why, for example, does man seek society at all? Because he loves it. Why does he join himself in marriage? Because he loves the fair object chosen. Why do the father and the mother sacrifice themselves for their children? Because they love them. Why do children submit so long to form a part of the family circle? Both from necessity and love. Why do brothers and sisters interlock, for life, their interests and their destinies together? They do it for their love. Why are great families built up at a vast expenditure of toil? From the love that pervades them. Why do adjacent families form groups, or neighborhoods, as perpetual as the places where they live? Because of their friendliness, or VOL. XII.-13

love. Why, in a word, are nations organized, with their governments and laws? Because we love our country, and know that nothing can maintain its existence, its peace, its prosperity, but the order, and quiet, and virtue of those, who make it their tarrying-place, or their home. Thus, in all its component elements, society is the natural product of our love.

Can that love, in these its varied forms, be eradicated from the human heart? Nay, they are the heart itself; and their eradication involves the annihilation of the soul. They must forever exist and act, as they now do, or not exist at all. They must eternally bear the same fruit they have borne, produce the same results they have produced, create the same institutions they have created, or not be. Nothing is more wild, therefore, than the perpetual cry of our modern reformers, about the re-formation, the re-organization, the re-construction of society, as if nature were not more powerful, and God more wise, than man.

Nor are such vain attempts demanded by the nature of the evils we endure. All we want is some powerful principle, which shall so quicken our conscience, that the reason shall be stirred up to do its whole duty, in guarding these instincts from excess. Our self-love must be held back from selfishness.

That must be implanted into the bosoms of the lover and his beloved, which, whatever be the intensity of their passions, shall maintain their innocence. That is to be infused into the hearts of the husband and the wife, of the parent and the child, of the brother and the sister, which shall preserve the purity of the household, and exclude all domestic jars. That must be given to neighborhoods, which, as the years roll round, shall bind all its families together in harmony and joy. The state, too, including the governors and the governed, must be baptized with an influence, that shall resuscitate its integrity and honor, and wash off all its stains. The world, in a word, must receive a new element, capable of restoring individual men to their true positions, that they may follow their nature without abusing it, constituting themselves a universal brotherhood of immortal souls.

And what principle, reader, is this, that can so regenerate mankind? I fear, in announcing it, I shall greatly disappoint many, who call themselves philosophers, and who are exerting their talents, in their own way, for the restoration of the social state. This principle, let me plainly say, I have not borrowed from the Republic of Plato, nor from the Golden Verses of Pythagoras, nor from the Pandects of Justinian, nor from the pages of the Schoolmen, nor from the dreams of the Pantheists, nor from the figments of any Utopia, nor from the madness of French skeptics, nor from the schemes of modern Socialism. None of these has been my instructor. I have bowed only before that glorious fountain, whence all reform must flow. It is the religion revealed from heaven, established on earth by the Son of God, and perpetuated through all ages for the final recovery of a fallen world. Having studied all philosophies, and beheld their efforts, I have proved them vain. If the religion of the Bible, pure and undefiled, can not remove these social evils, we must suffer them, as best we can, till the light of eternity shall dawn.

But what man can stand in doubt? Look at its origin, its instrumentalities, its designs, and its practical results. Listen to that language that breaks upon you from the heavens above: "God 80 loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him might not perish, but have everlasting life." Those heavens are now disparted. You behold a glorious form descending, while words of illustrious promise are issuing from his lips: "Lo, I come to do thy will, O God, to seek and to save that which is lost, and to take away the sin of the world!" As you see him stand there on the earth, unsupported, rejected, and alone, do you distrust his power to accomplish so grand a work? Hear him, in godlike simplicity, boast of his commission and his might: "All power is given unto me, in heaven and in earth: I and my Father are one: God manifest in the flesh; and the word that I have uttered shall not return unto me void, but shall accomplish the thing whereunto I have sent it. Lo, I create new heavens, and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness." But do you wish to see this claim maintained? Follow him in his work of mercy: "The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the dead are raised, and the poor have the Gospel preached to them;" the humble are elevated and the proud are brought down; physical and moral ills are cured; even raving maniacs are restored to mental quietness; and the very devils, the powers and principalities of the air, tremble at his word!

But has not this once powerful agency spent its force? Hark! "Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and lo, I am with you, even unto the end of the world." How faithfully has that promise been fulfilled! The great Reformer is still here. His temple, his dwell

ing-place, is his Church. There is the hiding of his power. Every man, who, with a broken and contrite heart, eschewing the vain philosophy of the world, comes to him for help, is received, acknowledged, blest. And when the once ruined mortal goes out from him, with his spirit healed and harmonized by his benignant touch, he is all that philosophy itself could demand, a pure, upright, honest, loving and earnest man. Let him have been what you please, a blasphemer, a thief, an adulterer, a murderer, a pirate, any one or all of these, he is now perfectly reformed. Put him where you will, call him your friend, start him in business, give him a family, make him a citizen, let him be a legislator, a magistrate, a judge, and he will discharge every duty of life faithfully, for he is now governed by the law of universal love. Were all mankind like him, all kings, all governors, all heads of families, all the members of families, in a word, all men, where would be our social evils, over which we have mourned so long? Gone, forever gone! Let the conscience be fully quickened; let the reason, enlightened by study, be always on the wing for duty; let the passions, under the joint administration of these higher faculties, be subdued and harmonized; let the whole soul be baptized, both the inner and the outer man, in the spirit of that religion, whose every breath is love, and the work of reform is done. The same trump, that heralds the millennium dawn, shall proclaim, also, the burial of the last social evil, that ever afflicted the sad lot of man. "The redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion; and everlasting joy shall be upon their head; they shall obtain gladness and joy; and sorrow and mourning shall flee away."

Thus, my reader, in a very imperfect manner, I am sure, but with all sincerity, I have laid before you my views of the organization of human society, of the evils connected with it, and of the manner of their removal. Society, I regard, in all its aspects, as the natural product of our social nature, neither of which can be radically changed, or even essentially modified, by any possible effort. Nor does the extirpation of social evils require any fundamental alteration in the structure of society, as they are all merely accidental, not necessary, to the present system of human intercourse. All we want is, that every man should be so reformed, in heart and life, as to render him an honest, faithful, enlightened member of society, in all the relations he sustains, or may sustain, to his fellow-beings; and this reformation, so greatly needed by us all, I assert can come only from that glorious Gospel, which Jesus established in the world. This, reader, is the object, the doctrine, and the conclusion of my attempt.

If my argument is sound-and I have taken some pains to make it so-it brings us, where, it seems to me, all arguments ought to bring us, to place all reliance, for the reformation and progress of society, on that mysterious book given us from

above. I know not what you may think of it; but, for myself, I am prepared to speak of it, and that from some study and experience, in exalted terms. In fact, I have but little or no faith in any thing, as an agent of reform, but the Bible. I believe it contains the principle, which, if properly applied, would banish every ill, and raise the world to more than its primeval state. It is the principle of universal love. If any one doubts the power of this doctrine, to accomplish the great end proposed, I beg him to consider it again. See what it has done, and what it is doing, every day. Love is the principle of union, of stability, of concord, throughout the universe. In heaven, it binds all hearts together; and it is the instrument of God's sovereign rule. On earth, it creates and maintains all the peace and harmony we have. In the family, between man and man, and within nations, it is the sole law of connection, which we have seen to be absolutely resistless, an actual creator, an unconquerable and unchangeable supporter and preserver, which no power can master, which no skill can mend. When man was separated by sin from his Maker, love moved like an almighty instinct in that Maker's bosom, and yearned with a quenchless ardor to bring again the two worlds together. Down from the throne of Omnipotence came the heaven-born Redeemer, whose heart was glowing with compassion, to execute this work of love. Love, in the heart, and thence flowing out into society at large, has effected every moral reform, whether of individuals or of communities, since the world began. Love always touches the soul, and melts the obduracy of man, and molds him to what it will. The worst of criminals, reckless against mere power, soften in an instant at the warm look of love. The maddened inebriate, trembling with rage, stands abashed in its presence, piteously condemns his own life, and freely throws up his ruinous career. The raving maniac, chained to his pillar, rending his garments and eating his flesh, is gradually subdued, healed, harmonized, by the gentleness of love. The very beasts of prey are subject to its authority. With a face of love, a man may go, as men do go, into the presence of these monsters, ride on the proboscis of the elephant, put stirrups to the sides of the unicorn, thrust his head into the mouths of lions, frolic with the catamount and tiger, sport with the spots of the treacherous leopard, wind the most venomous serpents around his body, or make his pillow on a coil of dragons. There is, in truth, no limit to its influence. It reigns over earth, and air, and sea. It is the principle, in a physical point of view, which draws each material atom to its fellow, and thus gives substance and form to all bodies. It moves the very planets in their airy circles; binds them to the sun their center; turns this and all other suns, progressively, about centers more, and more, and still more central; till, at last, at the center of all centers, there dwells God, and God is Love!

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Give me, then, the Bible, that reveals this God, who declares and imparts this love, and thou, O objector, mayest have all other agencies, with which to reform and bless the world. Multiply your societies, build up your associations, erect your communities, but give me the Bible. Let me stand forth and declare its grand principle to the people. Let me implant that principle in the minds and hearts of the youthful generation. Let me commit it to the winds and waves to be wafted to the shores of other nations. Let me bind the hearts of all kings, of all rulers, of all legislators, of all magistrates, of all fathers and mothers, of all brothers and sisters, of all citizens and subjects, with the spell of its mighty principle, and I ask no more. O that I had once more a voice! But I will whisper to the elements my desires. Lend, lend your wings, ye angels, that I may fly through the circuit of these heavens, with my arms filled with Bibles, to drop them upon the nations, as fell the manna upon the famished hosts of Israel. Catch them, ye mortals, as they are falling, bear them about with you as your richest blessing, govern your life's conduct by their ruling principle, and the dawn of God's reign on earth will preclude the necessity of any farther reformation to the end of time!

A TRAVELER'S SIGHT OF DEATH. As I was one day walking through the streets of Havana, I saw, in a sitting-room on the groundfloor of a handsome house, what appeared to be a beautiful wax-work figure, of which the face only was exposed to view. I asked in French a gentleman at the door of the house what it was. He answered, "Une dame qui est morte." The figure was stretched on what seemed a table, and was covered by a large case made of panes of glass, and having a pine-apple-shaped top. At the foot of the figure were some immense candlesticks, with lighted candles in them, throwing a melancholy glimmer around the room.

The face beneath that framework was the fairest face that I had seen in Cuba. In its calm sweetness it realized the description of that corse, to which Byron compares Greece, whose soul had passed away, while its beauty remained:

"He who hath bent him o'er the dead,
Ere the first day of death is fled-
Before decay's effacing fingers

Have swept the lines where beauty lingers-
And mark'd the mild, angelic air,
The rapture of repose that's there,
The fix'd yet tender traits that streak
The languor of the placid cheek;
And-but for that sad, shrouded eye,
That fires not, wins not, weeps not now,
And, but for that chill, changeless brow,
Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour,
He still might doubt the tyrant's power;
So fair, so calm, so softly seal'd
The first, last look by death reveal'd!"

TRANSFIGURATION.

BY HARMONY.

HARRY LINDSEY possessed many valuable and interesting traits of character, but he was an unbeliever. His face always reminded me of one without hope, and without God in the world. It had an undefinable look of abstraction, a dreamy, speculative look, which always made my heart sad. | And when I used to meet him, I would fain have grasped his hand, and pleaded of him not to be so unhappy, not to wear that dark look. Says some one, "Spirit molds matter, even as the artist molds the clay. As the outward can not transcend the inward-so as the prevailing mood of the soul is, so shall the expression of the face be." Is it not a very true remark? is not the expression of the face generally a true index to the heart?

"What a singular person Lindsey is!" was the usual remark. "I believe he has a great many good qualities; his conversation is interesting-one can not go to sleep over it; but I can not say that I like him. I should not like him for a friend, at least." And yet he had all the qualities which could make a man popular-person, manners, conversational powers, both grave and humorous, high spirits, and love of adventure. But the source and spring of all happiness in himself was embittered by the delusive error-unbelief. His heart was a cold, desolate void, which the sun of hope neither warmed nor illuminated. He gazed upon the beauties of nature, which were spread out before him in all their loveliness, with a despairing look. He walked forth in the "mellow twilight of evening," under the bright canopy of heaven, with feelings of admiration, but not of joy. He looked upon the king of day as he rose, dispelling with his cheering rays the gloom of night; but, alas for him! no beam of light penetrated the darkness which brooded over his heart-anxiety and doubt preyed there like a corroding canker.

A series of evening meetings was held in the village where he lived, which resulted in much good. Many were brought into the fold of Christ. The high praises of God thrilled the hearts of many, who now, for the first time in their life, lifted up their spirits in communion with the Most High. Harry Lindsey, by the earnest request of his parents, attended the meetings several evenings. But he sat unmoved, save as his lip curled in scorn at the blind superstition, as he called it, of those around him.

One evening the minister fixed his eyes on Lindsey, as he uttered the sweet invitation, "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye, and partake of the waters of life freely; yea, come, and partake without money, and without price. Ye that are weary and heavy laden, come, and find rest to your souls. And you, unrighteous man, forsake your evil ways, and your evil thoughts, and return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon you; and to our God,

for he will abundantly pardon." Then pausing a moment, as if to collect his scattered thoughts, he entered upon a thorough exhibition of divine truth, in a light more vivid and in a style more pungent and convincing than I had ever heard him before. He held up the majesty and purity of the law of God with a grandeur that startled the hearer, as if the distant thunder of Sinai were breaking on his trembling ear. He then pressed on them its claims, its high requisitions, set forth the utter helplessness of man without the interposition of divine recovering grace, and exhibited lucidly the duty of the sinner to repent and turn to God, and the rich provision of salvation in the full and glorious atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ. He presented these truths before the mind with such transparent clearness, that his hearers could not shut their eyes against the convictions thus brought home to their hearts. Many sobbed aloud in the grief of their souls, as they obeyed the invitation, and kneeled at the altar, and with tears and deep sighs besought the Lord to have mercy on them, and save them by his grace. Young and old bowed together at the throne of grace, Long and earnestly did they wrestle in prayer, and many a one, Jacob-like, was ready to exclaim, "I can not let thee go, except thou bless me!" The efficacy of prayer was felt there in its consolations, its blessedness, its transforming power. It was truly a heavenly place in Christ Jesus. A new song was put into the mouth, even praise to God-a new spirit into the heart, even his spirit of love, which made them not ashamed to speak of his goodness.

The fervent amen found a heart-felt response on many a lip, as, with an earnestness that would take no denial, the minister remembered Harry Lindsey, whom his now aged parents had offered in faith at the baptismal font in infancy, and yet he came not near to fulfill the claims they had assumed. His mother wept in the very excess of agony. His father bowed his head, to hide the grief he could not control. But did the cause of so much sorrow remain unmoved? Ah, no! the truth touched his heart, and, in spite of his unbelief, tears stole from his eyes, which he could not conceal, and he left the house, thoughtful and melancholy.

Truly God was dealing with him. And who shall tell what passed within his breast during that night of bitter communings with his own spirit?— the tumult, the wild thoughts, struggling with hurried prayers-and then the attempt to drive them out of his heart; the despair and unbelief— now in God's mercy, now in the reality of his convictions; the demon-whispers that seemed prompting him to utter derisive words, which it would have been madness to speak, or even to harbor in thought. And sadder than all, wringing, as it were, tears of blood from his heart, came selfreproach—the one agony that knows no consolation-the counsels neglected, prayers unheeded, motives unfairly attributed, injustices done in the heedlessness of irritation or wantonness of unbelief,

the many souls misled by his scoffs at piety and his arguments in favor of his infidel sentimentsall started to life, and proclaimed that he must atone for them. The faint light which had began to dawn rather served to make the darkness only the more visible. It showed him more and more of himself; and the contemplation was not cheering. He turned in contempt and disgust from his former life, scorning its aimlessness, hating its self-worship. The false supports on which he had hitherto leaned were gliding from beneath him; past unbelief was crumbling away; he felt its falsity with a strength of conviction which argument never could have imparted. And with the strong reaction of a naturally noble heart, awakened to a consciousness of error, he felt completely desolate; and with humble, self-condemning words he poured forth his confession and his penitence at the footstool of Sovereign Mercy.

The next evening he went to meeting again; and, as they gathered around the altar, Lindsey arose, and walking slowly forward, said, "Here, before you all, I confess, with grief, in a review of my past life, that I feel myself a guilty sinner. I have had religious instruction, and have been brought up under circumstances favorable to my best interest; but I have abused my nature and my talents, I have broken the law of God, turned from duty, spoken lightly of the Gospel of Christ, and laughed at the cross. Yonder old man, my father, whose heart I have well-nigh broken, early consecrated me, as ye are living witnesses, at the sacred altar. The idea that I was not my own but the Lord's has been constantly impressed upon me from my earliest youth, and against this my proud heart has rebelled. I could not bear to think that a human ordinance should bind me, only so far as my own will was consulted. Hence my refusal to fulfill my baptismal obligations. I have not only neglected and resisted religion myself, but I have opposed it in others. All my actions have been continually under the influence of an evil heart and corrupt principles. And I can only come a helpless, destitute beggar at the footstool of Sovereign Mercy, crying, 'God be merciful to me a sinner!" He then bowed in agony at the altar, calling upon Christians to pray that he might find grace in the sight of the Most High.

The effect of his remarks were visible through the audience, and great numbers crowded at the altar. A spirit of prayer pervaded the hearts of the children of God; the Holy Spirit was there; the tokens of divine influence could not be mistaken or evaded-all felt its convicting power.

Deep was the remorse of Lindsey for the pastdeeper his contrition for sin. "Is there hope for such as I am?" said he. ""Tis a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief," whispered the minister, and these words of comfort fell not unheeded upon his ear; and, in the humility of repentance, he cried, "Pardon my

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iniquity, O God, for it is great." He was enabled to yield his proud spirit to the gentle reign of Jesus, and to embrace the Savior in all his rich and free grace to sinners. The dark waters of the past vanished away, and a fountain loomed up within him, and from its pure depths a voice spoke, bidding him go in peace, and sin no more. "He was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision," and the "transfiguration" came. He arose from his knees, and stood before us in heavenly beauty. As he stood there, with the high praises of God on his lips, "he wist not that his face shone." The hope of glory shone upon his heart—and springing from the fountain within, the human face radiated the divine-showing his spiritual relationship to a higher nature, and enabling him most fervently and undoubtingly to cry, Abba, Father. Lindsey had found strength and beauty in the sanctuary. The triumphant hymns of higher intelligences had been given him; he felt his immortality and the riches contained in that belief. That troubled, unhappy look was gone-his face was lit up with holy love. He was "transfigured" through the influences of redeeming love, which is ever active with its transforming agency, changing the spirit into the likeness of the divine Redeemer. His face shone with a heavenly beauty; and O how lovely the Savior appeared to him! and how his soul was wrapped up in visions of glory, while he sung these words, which were to him a heart-felt fact,

"My willing soul would stay,

In such a frame as this, And sit and sing herself away To everlasting bliss!"

For a few moments his voice was solitary; but presently other sounds, sweet and tremulous, stole from the worshipers, and grew stronger and clearer, till it seemed the very minstrelsy of angels. Every soul was exhilarated with the fervor of its hope and the intensity of its devotion-all their hopes and their affections were mingled together in the triumph of that song. It seemed to me that the vail was already rent, and that the glory of the New Jerusalem was shining round them.

What a scene for the infidel to look upon! Let him who scoffs at piety and heaven, who ridicules the holy name of Jesus, and bows to the dark idol that his own imagination has created-let such a one enter the sanctuary of the Almighty, when his worship is set up in the heart, and kindled by the rays of his everlasting love, and if he does not feel a chord in his own soul thrilled by the magic touch-a chord that may have lain senseless, but is not dead-surely he must be inhuman. There is a magic in true piety that opens the sealed fountains of the heart, that wakens scintillations in every ray of its holy light, and calls forth life, and beauty, and harmony, even from the marble heart in the infidel's breast. It kindled a flame in Lindsey's heart that rose to heaven, and lit up his face with the luster of holy love.