ON LIBERALITY AND STRICTNESS.

GALATIONS V. 13: "For, brethren, ye have been called unto liberty; only use not liberty for an occasion to the flesh, but by love serve one another."

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HERE, it would seem, in terms at least, is something like contradiction. In the first place, the apostle says, Ye have been called unto liberty," and yet he adds in the same sentence, "but by love serve one another." This might easily be shown, however, to be but one instance of a general principle; and of a principle which distinguishes true Christianity from all the corruptions of it, and from all false religions of whatever name. This is the principle of consistency or harmony in character. Christianity, as well as the character of its Founder, is distinguished by inculcating not one virtue or another, to the exclusion of the rest, not by permitting any virtue to go to excess, but by the union and mutual control of opposite virtues. Such are fear and hope, meekness and courage, zeal and moderation, earnestness and calmness, gentleness and inflexibility, liberality and strictness.

The same apparent paradox that is contained in our text, we often meet with in reading the New Testament. When I am weak, then am I strong, says the apostle. And again, "Blessed are they that mourn; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; having nothing, yet possessing all things." So in the following passage: "Rejoice in the Lord alway, and again I say, rejoice. Let your moderation be known to all men.'

Our text speaks of being free, and yet serving one another. This, we may observe, is the true doctrine with regard to civil liberty. This liberty, truly held, is not a boasting and blustering, nor a proud and self-sufficient, nor a reckless and licentious principle. It was not with such a spirit that our own independence was wrought out. I do not believe there ever were men who had a stricter regard to human rights, who were more cautious and prudent, who felt more deeply the trust they had taken upon themselves, who were more truly the servants of their country and mankind, than the free and noble spirits, that meditated and achieved the work of our national independence. Look at the body of men that framed and sealed the charter of our liberties. From the moment that they adopted this great declaration of rights, they were free. But did they then resign themselves to indulgence, and softness, and sloth? No; from that moment they were more devoted to their country, more ready to serve one another, more assiduous and anxious, more burdened with a sense of responsibility, than ever. From that moment they acted like men who had pledged "their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honour." This case, I

conceive, may illustrate that view of religion, which I wish to explain and defend in the following discourse. These men, prudent, wise, great, and excellent as we know they were, in the eyes of their adversaries, were rash, rebellious, reckless of consequences, throwing off lawful allegiance, and plunging into anarchy and ruin. Long did the opposers of freedom wait for their halting, long have they waited to see the terrible results which they confidently predicted, and yet do these United States stand forth a practical refutation of their prophecies and protestations.

So it is, and so I confidently believe it will be, in religious matters. It has fallen to the lot of religious liberty to meet with the same misrepresentations and the same misplaced admonitions, and it will, I doubt not, fall to the lot of its adversaries to meet with the same refutation.

The comparison holds, too, in another respect. Very likely there were, and are, among a free people, those who abuse their liberty, those who did not, and do not, perceive that the most free should be the most active, watchful, and guarded in the work of preserving their liberties; who did not, and do not, perceive that they who govern themselves must be the most faithful, conscientious, and strict of all men. And, very likely all this may apply to some persons in those communities, that are most liberal and free in their religious sentiments.

You see, therefore, that I have a two-fold object in view;-to defend liberal principles in religion, and to guard them from perversion. Indeed, I cannot help thinking that there is a great deal of language relating to this subject, among ourselves, which is either wrong, or wrongly understood.

For instance; I hear it said of a man that he is simplifying and spiritualizing religion too much. Now to this I would say, no; he is doing it on a wrong principle. Strictly speaking, there cannot be too much simplifying and spiritualizing of religion. The language, I believe, is wrong; and I will hereafter undertake to show why. Again; it is often said of one party in religion, that it is liberal, and of another, that it is strict. With regard to this language, I should say, it is true in a certain sense, and yet very liable to be wrongly and injuriously understood.

And the doctrine, which, for counteraction of these and some other mistakes, I assert, and maintain, to be accordant with the proper nature of things, and the true principles of Christianity, is this: that true liberty in religion is naturally connected with moderation, sobriety, self-control, and with the most intense devotion to the interests of others; that true simplicity with regard to forms, implies the justest veneration for all the useful institutions of piety and virtue; and true liberality the most thorough strictness of conscience. You will not doubt that, according to the principles of Christianity, the meekest man is the most courageous, the holiest is the most humble, the most mer. ciful man is truly the most just. So it is in regard to the cases which I have before stated. There is a perfect harmony in the qualities of a good character. They are all branches of one tree. There is no conflict in the attributes of true religion. In the strictest and highest sense, goodness is severe, and severity is good, mercy is just, and justice is merciful, gentleness is inflexible, and inflexibility is gentle. It

is true, indeed that this harmony is not always found in the imperfect characters of men, but this is what Christianity requires.

Let us now apply this general principle to some of the particulars before stated.

And first, let us refer to the case stated in the text-the subject, in other words, of Christian liberty. Does this imply licentiousness, or a reckless disregard of the feelings or interests of others? Is the freedom of the Christian a principle of disorder, vice, or selfishness? It is enough to ask this question. It needs no answer. Surely freedom of conscience, the free toleration of all honest opinions, the permission to every man to judge for himself (as abstract doctrines, I say), surely these do not bear an unfriendly aspect towards human interests. Neither are they licentious doctrines. This, indeed, was the great cry at the Reformation, and whenever and wherever, since that time, the cause of Christian liberty has been advocated. But what is the fact? Have men grown more vicious as they have grown more free in sentiment? Is the Protestant portion of Christendom the most corrupt part? It is enough, I say again, to ask this question. It is enough to refer to Spain, and Italy, and Russia, on the one hand, and to England, Germany, and North America on the other. Where is the Sabbath most strictly observed? Where have commenced the great moral reforms that signalize the present age? And where is the heaviest hand of restraint laid upon all the vices? It is in this freest country in the world!

This, moreover, is not the adventitious, but the natural result of the principles in question. The man who thinks for himself will not only be more intelligent, which is something to the purpose, but he will naturally be more solicitous and careful, than the man who suffers another to think for him, and to prescribe to him what he shall believe. The blind votary of an established creed or church, for instance, has nothing to do but to believe. He may be as dull and dead as a stock or a stone, which the artificer frames and fits into the temple. Or if he rises one grade above this to some slight degree of intellectual life and action, still the action in him is liable to be slavishly directed to one point; the struggle in him is to believe; the very principle of action in him is a slavish dread, and the dread all tends to the same point-it is a dread lest he should disbelieve. But the man who is free to think for himself, feels that he is put upon his own responsibility. If he errs, it is his own fault. He is more anxious, therefore lest he should err.

He is anxious to know the truth. He girds up the loins of his mind, and is sober. He has come to the manhood of reason, and he puts on the sobriety of manhood. As the youth, when quitting the parental watch and care, when entering into life, and obliged to act for himself, receives from these circumstances a shade of thought and seriousness, so it is with the man who has left his ecclesiastical tutors and governors, and has gone forth into the wide world of knowledge, and is obliged to think for himself. He puts away the indifference and levity of his pupilage; he becomes considerate and thoughtful; he has cast from him the chains of superstition, indeed; but he has put on instead, the bonds of conscience, of moral responsibility.

What is thus naturally true of the manhood of a single life, is actually true of the manhood of the world. The world is more serious as it

grows older. Its pursuits are of a less trifling and frivolous character. Its pleasures are more intellectual. They are more refined; they have more of mind and sense, and of the proper object of recreation in them. We have orations now, instead of bull-fights to entertain the people, and grave processions, instead of mad tournaments. We do not crowd to see the deadly combat of gladiators; but those who did, so far from being more serious than we, could witness the death of a human being with more indifference than we the slaughter of a beast. But I am wandering, perhaps, from the point. I will state, then, what is the point. Protestant Christendom is more sober than Catholic Christendom was, or is. It has fewer sports, and fetes, and holidays. There is more of thought in it, more of consideration, more of the intense and universal working of the mind, more of the strict and minute discriminations of conscience. Some portions of Protestant Christendom, I am tempted to think, are too sober, and have too much eschewed and avoided reasonable and useful recreations.

Be this as it may, however;- what I would say is, that free principles, whether civil or religious, whether in an individual or the world, do not naturally tend to disorder and anarchy, to licentiousness, and vice, and frivolity. This has always been the charge which their adversaries have brought against them. But it is not true. The true freeman, whether in Politics or Religion, is the best friend to a sober morality and a solemn piety, and to civil order and salutary government.

The man that is free, whether in Politics or Religion - the man that is free, paradox as it may seem, is the man that is most of all bound; bound, not by another, for then he would be a slave, but bound by himself. I see this man encompassed with bonds, and he wears them, not as rusting and galling fetters, but he wears them like a glorious vesture, or the mailed garments of the warrior; -wears them both for ornament and defence. I see this man, the free man, encompassed with bonds, and he needs them to sustain and strengthen him. He stands up, erect and independent. He has taken his hand from the altar of superstition, and from the throne of despotism; he leans not on these frail and crumbling props of religious and political slavery. He must, therefore, I repeat, gird up the loins of his mind, and be sober. He must gird himself in the armour of principle and conscience. No man has so much need to do this. No man is so likely to feel this necessity.

This, let me add, is precisely the doctrine which I wish to maintain. I do not say, that every man, who is free, is therefore wiser and better than other men. So general a proposition is more than could be maintained in any practical question or controversy about the human character. I do not deny, that in religion some men have used liberty for an occasion to the flesh; that some have perverted their liberty of thought into haughtiness and contempt of others, and their liberty of action into a neglect of the rights and interests of others: but I say that these are perversions of a good principle-of a principle more likely to contribute, and actually contributing more, to good than to evil. I maintain only, that the freest principles are the most generous and benevolent, the most pure and useful, the most temperate and sober, and. in fine, the most faithful and obedient to all the calls of religion and virtue.

Now let us turn for a moment to the subject of Christian simplicity.

I use this term here as opposite to a zeal about forms in religion. This zeal has undoubtedly declined in modern times. Simplicity has advanced. Men are less concerned about the forms, and more about the spirit of devotion. This unavoidably results from the progress of knowledge and refinement. Anciently men's religion necessarily partook very much of a ritual character. In a rude state of society, many forms are needed to impress religion. It was, in part, for the purpose of meeting this necessity, that the Jewish ritual was ordained. As the mind advances, it enters more into the real nature and spirit of religion. This is the general statement, which we are accustomed to hear made on the comparative character and the contrasted progress of a spiritual, and a ceremonial piety. And from this is inferred the danger of sweeping away entirely, together with the frivolous and burdensome, the wholesome and needful formalities of religion. It is feared, by some, that this change is tending to a general indifference about all religious institutions. Men are liable, it is said, to refine and simplify too much. Now I have ventured to call this language in question. I say first, not too much, but on a wrong principle. And I say, secondly, that on the true principle there cannot be too much. Not too much, but on a wrong principle. For instance, a man may determine to give up every form for which he cannot find an express command in the New Testament. This is a wrong principle. The New Testament does not propose to assign all the forms in which men shall worship. There is nothing like a complete system of Church government, discipline, or worship, to be found in it. Men are left, in the general, to adopt such forms as they may find expedient. It is unquestionably expedient that there be a certain number of forms, greater or less, according to the state of society or the experience of individuals.

But this leads me to another observation. A man may hastily adopt the principle, that the fewer forms there are in the world, the better. This is wrong. It is not reasoning, but visionary nonsense. There are forms in everything-forms in friendship, forms in society, forms in business, and why should there not be forms in religion? I cannot say to what state the world may arrive. I cannot say, but it will become so honest that there will be no need of pledges, of bonds and notes of hand, or so religious, that it will need no forms; but I am certain that the time has not yet come. If there be any individuals of so spiritual and exalted a mind, that they need no forms, I pretend not to interfere with their secret conscience; but this, at least, is certain, that their religion must be peculiar to themselves; it is not suitable for the multitude; it is not made for this age, nor for the busy throng of this world's

cares.

Let us now refer to the other point stated. Of a true spirituality or simplicity there cannot be too much. On the contrary, the more there is of it in any man's experience, the more deeply will he be interested in the forms that he does use: the more attached he is to the spirit of religion, the more he is to the means that appear to him to nourish it. For what is this spirituality, this process of simplifying? It is to separate vital religion from the things that do not belong to it, to penetrate more and more deeply into the very nature, the heart and soul of piety, to come nearer and nearer to the great Being who is its object-nearer and nearer to the great reality. It is a growing and more sensitive fear