deduction of abstract reasoning, irrespective of ourselves, and of the character of God, or of the nature of the communication as compared with them. Belief is grounded, in part, on certain views of our nature and wants, and on certain views of the character of God. Now, none but a pure and spiritual mind can estimate the transcendent worth of its own nature, or can so love God, as to entertain a just view of his love to us, and to hope all that the filial mind will hope from him. Self-purification, therefore, is an essential part of the progress to light and certainty.

In this progress, not a few have arrived to the very confines of the land of vision. Their faith has become scarcely less than assurance. Invisible things have not only become the great realities, as they are to all men of true faith; but they have become, as it were, almost visible; there is a presence of God, felt, and almost seen, in all nature and life; there is, in the heart, an assurance, a feeling of heaven and immortality. So it is oftentimes with the good man in the approach to death; the veil of flesh is almost rent from him; the shadows of mortal imperfection are disappearing; the threshold of heaven is gained; and beamings, from the ever-bright regions, fill his soul with their blessed light. Then it is, that it is hard to return to life; to pass again beneath the shadow; to feel the cold, dull realities of life effacing the impressions of heavenly beauty and glory. This is sometimes looked upon, I know, as a kind of hallucination, a visionary rapture; and so it sometimes may be; but the truth is, that in the purified mind, it is the result of principles in accordance with the strictest reason. The explanation is, that such a mind is prepared to receive the full and entire impression of the objects of faith; the light of heaven is indeed around that mind; because it is an image, pure, and polished, and bright, to reflect the light of heaven.

True faith is, indeed, a great and sublime quality. It is greater, I am persuaded, than it is commonly accounted to be, much as it is exalted, and lauded in religious discourses. It is sometimes lauded, indeed, at the expense of reason. It is often so represented as if its sublimity consisted in its being a mystical quality, in its superiority to works, to the labours of duty, to the exercise of the quiet and patient virtues. To the hearer of such representations, it often seems as if this glory and charm of faith lay in a sort of visionary peace of mind, obtained without any reference to the culture of the mind or of the heart. But, no; the very reverse of this is the truth. Faith is a great and sublime quality, because it is founded in eternal reason; because it is a patient and faithful inquirer, and not a hasty and self-confident rejector, not an idolizer of its own fanciful and visionary suggestions of doubt. It is great too, because it is moral; because as an Apostle declares, it works by love, and purifies the heart; because it is an elevation of the soul towards the purity and glory of the only and independently great and glorious Being. It is great, moreover, and in fine, because it is a principle of perpetual advancement. It does not write down its creed, as if it could never go beyond that; as if that were its standard and its limit; as if that were the sum and the perfection of all that it could ever receive. No; it is a sublime principle, because it takes hold of the sublimity of everlasting progress. When it reaches a brighter sphere; when it no longer knows in part, but knows as it is known; when its contemplation has become actual vision, and its deductions have risen

to assume the certainty and take the place of first principles; then will it, on the basis of these first principles, proceed to still farther deductions. Still and ever will the fields of inquiry lie before it-far and for ever before it. Onward and onward will they spread, beneath other heavens, to other horizons-bright regions, leading to yet brighter regions-boundless worlds for thought to traverse, beyond the track of solar day-where-where shall its limit be!-what eye can pursue its flight through the infinitude of ages!

Christian! wouldst thou make that boundless, that glorious career thine own? Then be faithful to the light that now shines around thee. Sink not to rest or slumber beneath the passing shadows of doubt. To sink-to sleep, is not thy destination, but to wake-to rise. Rise, then, to the glorious pursuit of truth; connect with it the work of selfpurification; open thy mind to heavenly hope; aspire to the life everlasting! Count it not a strange thing that thou hast difficulties and doubts. Well has it been said, that he who never doubted, never believed. Shrink not and be not afraid, when that cloud passeth over thee. Through the cloud, still press onward. Only be assured of this, and with this assurance be of good courage-God made thee to believe. Without faith, the ends of thy being cannot be accomplished, and therefore, it is certain that he made thee to believe. In perfect confidence, then, say this with thyself,-"I am sure that I shall believe: all that is necessary for me, I shall believe; in the faithful and bumble use of my faculties, I am assured that I shall come to this result. I fear not doubt; I fear not darkness; doubt is the way to faith, and darkness is the way to light." Come, holy light! come, blessed faith! and cheer every humble seeker with joy unspeakable and full of glory!

And it will come to every true and trusting heart. Why do I say this? Because, I still repeat, I know that God made our nature for faith, and virtue, and improvement. Why should it be difficult to see this? And are not scepticism, and sin, and the process of moral deterioration—are they not misery, and darkness, and destruction, to our nature? Look at the young tree of the forest. Are you not sure that God made it to grow? And can you doubt that he made your moral nature, to grow and flourish? But how does he make that tree to grow? By pouring perpetual sunshine upon it? No; he sends the storm and the tempest upon it; the overshadowing cloud lowers upon its waving top-and its branches wrestle with the rude elements. So is it with human faith. Amidst storm and calm, amidst cloud and sunshine alike, it rises and rises, stronger and stronger-till it is transplanted at length to the fair clime of heaven; there to grow and blossom, amidst everlasting light, in everlasting beauty.

CURSORY OBSERVATIONS

ON THE QUESTIONS AT ISSUE BETWEEN ORTHODOX

AND LIBERAL CHRISTIANS.*

NO. I. INTRODUCTORY.

IN offering to the Public a series of cursory and miscellaneous remarks on the questions between the Orthodox and Liberal parties, I am disposed, at the outset, to say something by way of apology. My defence might perhaps justly relate to other and more important particulars, but I confess, that the feeling I had most to contend with, in myself, and I suppose it exists in others, is a strong reluctance to come into that collision with others, with opponents, I mean, to which controversy leads. The case, I must think, is a peculiarly hard one on our side of the question. I know, at least, that it involves many pain. ful feelings.

Men do not often nor easily place themselves in the situation of others; least of all, of their opponents. The dominant sect of a country little know to what they subject an individual, when they cut him off from so many of the sympathies of the social world around him. To a man who has spent his youth in severe and wasting studies, with the honourable and ardent hope of being useful and acceptable to his fellow-men, who, with patient inquiries and earnest prayers, has sought for truth; who, in deep and solitary meditations, has sought for the pure fountains of all generous and holy influences wherewith he might nourish and quicken the piety of others—to such an one it is hard to meet with no welcome in the countenance and manners of society; nay, to meet with suspicion and hostility where he looked for welcome, to be summoned to strife, where he desired peace and amity, to be brought to the bar as an accused person, when he hoped to be hailed as the messenger of glad tidings. And he feels -the honest and affectionate

* I mean no offence by this designation of the parties. If the words, Orthodox and Liberal, be taken in a literal sense, then, of course, I claim to be orthodox, and I do not deny that others are liberal. But I take the terms as they are used in common parlance; and I prefix them to this series of articles, because no other cover the whole ground of the discussion. In any view, if others assume the title of Orthodox, I think they cannot charge ns with presumption, if we adopt the title of Liberal.

advocate of religion feels, that he has glad tidings to communicate. His heart is ready to kindle with his theme; he would spread before mankind the venerable and lovely perfections of God; he would call and win them to piety, and virtue, and glory; he would gladly cherish the tenderness, and love, and charity, that belong to a mission so sacred and merciful; and how is his heart smitten within him, to reflect that all these sentiments and affections are denied to him, that he is looked upon as engaged in a bad work, that multitudes regard his doctrine, and preaching, and person, with aversion or horror! Besides, that must be a bad mind, indeed, to which contention is not in itself painful. Who does not feel sometimes tempted to leave the world to its controversies, to leave the opposing sects to fight it out among themselves, if they will,-to withdraw from the visible ranks of all religious denominations, and to take his way, alone and peacefully, to the grave, where all these strifes are so soon to be composed? Who that feels how many are the necessary trials of life, how becoming are sympathy, and pity, and forbearance, in such a world as this, how great is the moral work which he and every man has to do, and how solemn is the destiny of eternity; who, I say, feeling all this, does not grow sick at the thoughts of contending with his brethren in ignorance, and frailty, and affliction, his brethren in the great errand and end of life, his brethren in the solemn account of an hereafter.

I confess, that under the influence of these considerations, I am sometimes ready to shrink from what I do nevertheless conceive to be the duty of contending earnestly for those principles, which I hold to be the faith once delivered to the saints. So far as I might consult the first feelings and impulses natural to me as a citizen, a friend, a social man, I should sedulously avoid it. I should choose to pass in society without attracting any attention to my religious belief. I should reserve the comfort and joy of religious fellowship for my intercourse with those who would meet me in the affection and confidence of that fellowship. I would endeavour so to enjoy that privilege, as not to have the reflection forced upon me, that I am surrounded by suspicions and strifes, or by benevolent, though as I think mistaken, anxieties and regrets.

If, then, I address any who have a strong aversion to controversial discussions, I may safely affirm that I feel it not less than they. I have a good mind, at times, to sweep from my table every controversial book, tract, publication, Review, and Newspaper, and henceforth to know nothing, and to care nothing about them-to know nothing and to care for nothing but religion as a general subject of contemplation, and a guide and comfort of life. There is no honour nor comfort to be reaped from these contests; and to the honourable, the liberal, the better and more sacred feelings of the mind, they are attended with no little danger. I said, no comfort. There is the satisfaction, indeed, arising from the discharge of what is believed to be a duty; and that, I trust, is the consideration that, with me, settles the question. This must be the repose of faithful and honest minds, engaged in controversy with those whom they would fain regard as brethren and friends.

And it is my purpose (as I have partly intimated), in these introductory remarks, to meet the natural reluctance which many feel to read anything of a controversial nature.

I say, then, that the state of the public mind demands investigations of this kind. The age is thoroughly agitated with questions of all sorts, political, moral, and religious-with all those questions, especially, which bear upon human happiness. On all these questions, and in foreign countries, even, on that of the diffusion of knowledge, there is a liberal party, and an orthodox party-or, in other words, there are advocates of new opinions, and adherents of old opinions. But of all the questions that thus agitate the general mind, none bear more directly upon the general welfare than those which are religious. None, indeed, do more palpably affect the rights of men. None do so vitally affect their happiness. For it is when my soul is defended, and my political freedom secured, and I go and sit down under the shadow of my own dwelling with none to disturb or make me afraid; it is then, and after all that, that the great question is to be settled in the feelings and habits of my own mind, whether or not I shall be happy. And it is here in this interior, this secret and silent world of thoughts and purposes, of moral ideas and contemplations and affections, that religion has the amplest scope and the widest dominion.

Something of this is beginning to be felt; and men, at least, men generally, are inquiring, as they never before inquired, for the difference between truth and error, right and wrong, pure religion and needless superstition. And he who can be insensible to the importance of these inquiries, or can turn indifferently away from them as not worth his regard, understands neither the discussion, nor the duty it devolves upon him.

It is, by no means, a light discussion; and this is the second consideration which bears upon the question of duty in the controversy of the age. It is a great controversy. It is not about the minor forms and features of religion. It is not about a church government or ritual. It is, in part, about the very nature of morality and piety. It is mainly a practical question. It is not even concerning the Trinity that we are most deeply interested, as a matter of controversy. That seems to me a scholastic question; and more properly to belong to a scholastic age. And, in fact, it is only from the strong practical cast, which the spirit of the present age gives to every discussion, that this question of the Trinity is brought into such earnest debate. That is to say, it is not because the question, as I apprehend it, has any important and immediate bearing upon the nature of religion or the character of God, but because it is artificially mingled with the practical popular system of the age, that it has any considerable interest. The great questions, at issue, are these: What is the true character, the real, moral perfection of God, and what is the system of religious sentiments that truly illustrates his character and perfection? What is it to be a good man and a Christian? What constitutes the true preparation of a moral being for happiness, and God's favour, here and hereafter, and what is the true, right, and best method of making that preparation? What are the just principles of Christian Catholicism and candour, and in what consists the violation of these principles? Or, to bring the same question into a briefer statement, the great inquiry of the age is, how shall a man regard his Maker-the character, providence, and revelations of his Maker; himself-his nature, his welfare, and duty; and his fellow-beings-their feelings, interests, and inquiries, on the subject