CHANNING’S WORKS THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY ?ro-.] the collection of Julius Doehiaer7t‘C]2S^aso Purchased, ‘1918. 6^8 The person charging this ^^erial is re- sponsible for its return on or before tti Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archive.org/details/completeworksofwOOchan THE COMPLETE WORKS OF INCLUDING THE PERFECT LIFE, AND CONTAINING A COPIOUS GENERAL INDEX AND A TABLE OF SCRIPTURE REFERENCES. The pages of thy book I read. And as I closed each one, My heart, responding, ever said, “Servant of God, well done.” Well done! thy words are great and bold; At times they seem to me, Like Luther’s, in the days of old, Half-battles for the free. H. W. Longfellow, TENTH THOUSAND. “CHRISTIAN LIFE” PUBLISHING COMPANY, STRAND, LONDON. ROUTLEDGE & SONS, LONDON & NEW YORK. WILLIAMS & NORGATE, LONDON & EDINBURGH, 1884 . Price Seven Shillmgs and Sixpence, LONDON : PRINTED BY GEO. REVEIRS, GK.WSTOKE PLACE, FETTER LANE, E.C. PREFACE. 8 / a C I 8 . -5 4- ♦ The Works of Channing arc known in every part of the civilised world. They have carried freedom, light, and joy to millions, and their influence is still increasing, nearly a hundred thousand copies having been printed within the last fifteen years. It is hoped that this new edition may, by its bold clear type and extremely low price, invite readers who are now repelled by the small type of the cheap editions hitherto issued. It is complete not only as presenting the entire contents of the five volume edition, collected in 1841 by Dr. Channing himself, and the supplementary volume issued in 1843, containing his subsequent writings, but also as comprising the volume of sermons published by his nephew in 1873, under the title of “The Perfect Life,” and the well-known Catechism for children. A special feature of this edition is the new “General Index” with the table of “Scripture References.” These, which have long been felt to be much needed by all earnest students of Channing’s writings, have been copiously prepared by the Rev. Alexander Gordon, M.A., and the reader will find that the aim has been faithfully to tabulate the ideas of Channing without bending them to suit any particular views. Some of the larger entries, such as God, Christianity, Jesus Christ, and others, have been arranged in sections to make them more easy for reference, but in this classification the divisions necessarily to some extent overlap each other. Channing attracts and delights by the clear, lucid expression which he gives to ideas distinguished for their beauty, their freedom, their broad expanse of view. But his appeal is not made merely to the intellectual side of his readers. The essential secret of his lasting influence is his mastery of Christian principle, which enables him without effort to bring home to the conscience at every crisis of duty the spirit of that divine religion with which all his own thoughts are ever completely filled. In an age when minds are determined to be free, and feel in doubt as to the compatibility of freedom with the acceptance of a definitely Christian type of faith and rule of duty, the writings of Channing possess a peculiar value. They prove to demonstration how unfettered is the liberty, how sure the moral strength of the Christian believer. Channing is a fitting guide for living souls, because he assumes no place of authority, but seeks only to clear the way for the triumph of the one Master, whose spirit is worthy to control the lives of the sons of men — the Man Christ Jesus. 4C)r8E.6 CONTENTS — ♦ — The chronological arrangement is but approximate ; dates in square brackets represent the earliest issue knouin to the compiler. Duties of the Citizen in Times of Trial or Danger (1812, and 18 Sept., 1814) 483 Preaching Christ : Discourse at the Ordination of Rev. John Emery Abbot, S.alem (20 April, 1815) 254 The System of Exclusion and Denunciation in Reli- gion Considered (1815) 350 War : Discourse before the Congregational Ministers of Massachusetts (30 May, 1816) 460 On Theological Education : being Extracts from Obser- vations on the Proposition for Increasing the Means of such Education at the University in Cambridge (1816) ... 361 Elements of Religion and Morality ; in the form of a Catechism (before 1817) 336 Notice of Rev. Samuel Cooper Thacher (1818) 449 Unitarian Christianity : Discourse at the Ordin.ation of Rev. Jared Sparks to the pastoral care of the First Inde- pendent Church, Baltimore (5 May, 1819) 278 — OiijECTiONs TO Unitarian Christianity Considered {Christian Disciple, 1819) 299 The Moral Argument AGAINST Calvinism (C/ir. Zl/j-., 1820) 338 The Evidences of Revealed Religion : Discourse before the University in Cambridge at the Dudleian Lecture (14 M.arch, 1821) 194 Memoir of John Gai.lison, Esq. (1821) 445 The Demands of the Age on the Ministry : Discourse at the Ordination of Rev. Ezra Stiles Gannett, as Colleague Pastor of the Church of Christ in Federal-street, Boston, (30 June, 1824) 188 The Christian Ministry : Discourse at the Dedication of Divinity Hall, Cambridge (1826) 181 Remarks on the Character and Writings of John Milton (Christian Examiner, 1826) 392 Unitarian Christianity most Favourable to Piety : Discourse at the Dedication of the Second Congregational Unitarian Church, New York (7 Dec., 1826) 289 Remarks on the Life and Character of Napoleon Bonaparte (Chr. Ex., 1827, 1828) Part L, 368; Part 11 . 384 The Great Purpose of Christianity : Discourse at the Installation of Rev. Mellish Irving Motte, as Pastor of the South Congregational Society, Boston (21 May, 1828) ... 174 ^ Likeness to God : Discourse at the Ordination of Rev. Frederick A. Farley, Providence, R.I. (10 Sept., 1828) ... 230 The Duties of Children : DLscourse to the Religious Society in Federal-street, Boston [Eainford's cdn., 1829] 357 Remarks on the Character and Writings of Fenelon (Christian Examiner, March, 1829) 407 The U.NION A'A-aw/wr, May, 1829) 451 Remarks on AssociATiONs(C//rA//£j:« Examiner, Sept., 1829) 143 Remarks on National Literature (Chr. Ex.,]an., 1830) 134 Daily Prayer [Miscellanies, April, 1830] 359 Honour Due to all Men [Miscellanies, April, 1830] 79 Importance of Religion to Society [Misc., April, 1830] 164 Means of Promoting Christianity [Misc., April, 1830]... 179 Spiritual Freedom: Sermon at Annual Election, before Governor and Council of Massachusetts (26 May, 1830) 165 Character OF Christ [ZJwwrwj, <5U(r., 1832] 237 Christianity, A Rational Religion Ce^c., 1832] 222 Evidences of Christianity [Discourses, &^c., 1832], Part L, 202; Part 1 1 212 Immortality [Discourses, df'e., 1832] 270 Love to Christ [Disc., 1832], Sermon L, 246; Sermon H. 250 .Self-denial [Discourses, &r‘c., 1832], Serm. I., 259 ; Serm. 11 . 263 The Evil of Sin [Discourses, &^c., 1832] 266 The Imitableness of Christ’s Character [Disc., 1832] 243 On Preaching the Gospel to the Poor : Charge at Ordination of Revs. Charles F. Barnard and Frederick T. Gray as Ministers at Large, Boston (Oct. 1833 ? pub. 1834) 1 1 1 Remarks on Education (Christian Examiner, Nov., 1833) 129 -The Future Life: Discourse Easter Sunday (30 March, 1834) 273 War: Discourse (25 Jan., 1835) 467 Ministry for the Poor : Diseourse delivered before the Benevolent Fraternity of Churches in Boston on their h'irst Anniversary (9 April, 1835) 102 Slavery (November, 1835) 4^^ Introduction 488 Ch.ap. 1. Property 491 1 1. Rights 494* HI. Explanations 499 IV. The Evils of .Slavery 500 V. Scripture 510 VI. Means of Removing Slavery 512 VH. Abolitionism 515 NTH. Duties 519 Letter on Catholicism: To the Editor of the Western Messenger, Louisville, Ky. (June, 1836) 349 Christi.an NVorship: DLscourse at the Dedication of the Unitarian Congregational Church, Newport, R.I. (27 July, 1836) 304 The Aboi.itio.nists : A Letter to James G. Birney (20 Dec., 1836) 523 The Sunday School : Discourse before Sunday School Society ( of American Unit, January, 1837) 328 Address ON Temperance (28 Feb., 1837) 118 A Letter to Hon. Henry Clay: On the Annexation of Texas to the United .States (i Aug., 1837) 529 Extracts from a Letter on Creeds (Tracts of American Unitarian Association, Sept., 1837) 355 The Philanthropist: a Tribute to the Memory of Rev. Noah Worcester, D.I). (12 Nov., 1837) 433 ->Self-culture (1838) 64 Lecture on NVar {1838; Preface 1839) 473 Remarks on the Slavery Question: in a Letter to Jonathan Phillips, Esq. (1839) 547 Charge for the Ordination of Rev. Robert C. Water- STON as Minister at Large (24 Nov., 1839) 114 A Discourse occasioned by the death of Rev. Charles Follen, D.C. L. (January, 1840) 438 On the Elevation of the Labouring Classes (ii Feb., 1840) 83 Charge at the Ordination of Rev. John Sullivan Dwight, as Pastor of the Second Congregation.al Church, Northampton, Mass. (20 May, 1840) 363 Emancipation (15 Nov., 1840) 571 A Discourse on the Life and Character of Rev. Joseph Tuckerman, D.I). (31 Jan., 1841) 419 Introductory Remarks (18 April, 1841) 57 »The Present Age : An addre.ss delivered before the Mer- cantile Library Company of Philadelphia (ii May, 1841) 156 The Church: Discourse delivered in the First Congrega- tional Unitarian Church, Philadelphia (20 May, 1841) ... 316 The Duty of the Free States ; Or, Remarks suggested by the Case of the “Creole,” Part 1. (26 March, 1842), 593; Part II. (1842) 604 An Address Delivered at Lenox ; On the Anniversary of Emancipation in the British West Indies (i Aug., 1842; 9 Aug., 1842) 627 oiThe Perfect Life (1873) i The Religious Principle in Human Nature i God Revealed in the Universe and in Humanity... 6 The Universal Father 12 The Father’s Love for Persons 16 Trust in the Living God 19 Life, a Divine Gift 23 The True End of Life 28 The Perfecting Power of Religion 34 Jesus Christ, the Brother, Friend, and Saviour ... 39 The Essence of the Christian Religion 44 Perfect Life, the End of Christianity 48 The Church Universal 52 THE COMPLETE WORKS OF W. E. CHANNINC, D,D., INCLUDING THE PERFECT LIFE.* THE PERFECT LIFE. THE RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLE IN HUMAN NATURE. Ma.rk xii. 29, 30: “ The Lord our God is one Lord; and thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength ; this is the first commandment.” The command thus given to love God with all the heart, and soul, and mind, and strength, is in harmony with our whole nature. We are made for God; all our affections, sensibilities, faculties, and energies are designed to be directed towards God; the end of our existence is fellowship with God. He could not require us to devote our entire being to Himself, if He had not endowed it with powers which fit us for such devotion. Religion then has its germs in our Nature, and its development is entrusted to our own care. Such is the truth that I would now illustrate. I. — The Principle in Human Nature, from which religion springs, is the desire to establish relations with a Being more perfect than itself. The fact is as remark- able, as it is incontrovertible, that the human race, all but universally, has conceived of some Existence more exalted than man. If there is one principle, indeed, that may be declared to be essential in human nature, it is this un- willingness to shut itself up within its own limits, this tendency to aspire after intercourse with some Divinity. It is true that men at various periods have formed most unworthy conceptions of their objects of worship. Still, by selecting the qualities which they esteemed most highly in themselves, and by enlarging and exalting them without bounds, they have showed, as plainly as have more enlightened ages, the spontaneous longing of the human spirit to rise above itself, and to ally its destiny with a Supreme Power. ’This simple view is sufficient to prove the grandeur of the Religious Principle. Without doubt, it is the noblest working of Human Nature. In the most immature manifestAtion of this principle, we behold the budding of those spiritual powers, by which, in the progress of the race, men have attained to the conception of Unbounded Goodness. We see this principle in the creations of genius, in forms of ideal beauty to which poetry and the arts give immortality, in fictions where characters are pourtrayed surpassing the attainments of real life. We see this principle in the admiration with which stupendous intellect and heroic virtue are hailed, and in the delight with which we follow in history the career of men who in energy and disinterestedness have outstripped their fellows. The desire for an excellence never actually reached by humanity, the aspiration towards that Ideal which we express by the word Perfection, this is the seminal principle of religion. And this is the root of all progress in the human race. Religion is not an exclusive impulse. It does not grow from an emotion that is centred wholly upon God, and seeks no other object. It springs from the same desire for whatever is more Perfect than our own nature and our present life, which has impelled man towards all his great spiritual acquisitions, and to all great improvements of society. This principle, as we have seen, prompts the mind to create imaginary beings, and to attach itself with delight to human agents of surpassing power and goodness. But in these objects it can find no rest. These are too frail a support for so sublime an emotion. This principle God implanted for Himself. Through this the human mind corresponds to the Supreme Divinity. This principle, being in its very essence insatiable, partakes of the nature of infinity; and no Being but the Infinite one can supply its wants. This view conducts us to an important standard, by which to judge of the Truth and Purity of any form of religion. A religion is true, in proportion to the clearness with which it makes manifest the Perfection of God. The purity of a particular system is to be measured by the conception which it inspires of God. Does it raise our thoughts to a Perfect Being? Does it exalt us far above our own nature? Does it introduce us to a grand and glorious Intelligence? Does it expand our minds with venerable and generous conceptions of the Author of existence? I know no other test of a true and pure religion but this. Religion has no excellence, but as it * The first twelve discourses of this volume were given to the public only a few years ago, and as a distinct treatise, by the Rev. William Henry Channing, nephew of Dr. Channing, and designated by him the “ Perfect Life.” We learn that these addresses, which had not been in print before, were delivered during the last few years of Dr. Channing’s life. B 2 THE RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLE IN HUMAN NATURE. lifts us up into communion with a Nature higher and holier than our own. It is the office of religion to offer the soul an Object for its noblest faculties and affections, a Being through whom it may more surely and vigorously ■be carried forward to its own perfection. In proportion, then, as a religion casts clouds around the glory of Ood, ■or detracts from the loveliness and grandeur of His cha- racter, it is devoid of dignity, and tends to depress the mind. All human systems are necessarily defective. They partake of the limits of the human mind. The purest religion which man ever has adopted, or ever will adopt, must fall very far below the glory of its Object. Our best conceptions of God are undoubtedly mixed with much error, ^^’e talk indeed of Truth, as if we held it in its fulness; but in religion, as elsewhere, we make approaches only to the Truth. We see God in the mirror of our own minds; but these are narrow, and in many ways darkened. We see Him in His works; but of these we comprehend a minute portion only. He speaks to us by His spirit in Scripture and in the heart; but He speaks lo us in human language, and ad.apts Himself to our weak capacities, so that we catch mere glimpses of His jierfection. The Religious Principle itself, by which we perceive and love God, is as limited at birth as are our other faculties, and is gradually unfolded. It embraces error at first, by necessity. 'Phe earliest idea of God in the child is as faint as are its conceptions of all other t)bjects. Necessarily it invests the Creator with a human form, places Him in the heavens, and clothes Him with .an undefined power superior only to that possessed by those around it. This idea, however, of some Being higher than man takes root; and from this religion grows iij). As we advance, we throw off more and more our childish notions, purify our thought of God, divest Him of matter, conceive of Him as mind, refine away from Him our passions, and especially assign to Him the attributes which our growing consciences recognise as righteous and holy. Still, we are making approaches only, and slow approaches, towards God. Much of earth, -much of our own incompleteness, still clings to our conception of the Divinity whom we worship. And the Avise man is distinguished by detecting continually what- ever is low in his apprehension of God, and by casting it away for Inore exalted views. II. — I now proceed to show more directly that religion is natural to man, and is his great end. And for tliis purpose I go to Human Nature. Time will permit but few illustrations of this great theme; for when we survey man’s various faculties, affections, and jjowers, all concur in bearing testimony to the truth now advanced. All arc but so many elements of religion. I. Look first at the Reason — that divine germ within. I ask you to consider what are the primitive, profoundest, and clearest ideas of Reason. They are the very ideas which lead to God. The earliest inquiry of Reason is into Causes. Even the child breaks his toys to discover the ■spring of their motion. Reason cannot satisfy itself with observ'ing what exists, but seeks to explore its origin. It asks by instinct, whence comes the order of the -universe, and cannot rest until it has a.scended to a First Cause. The idea of God is thus involved in the primitive and most universal idea of Reason, and is one of its central principles. Among other tendencies in the Reason to God, one is —especially noteworthy. I refer to its desire for compre- hensive and connected views. The Reason is never satisfied with beholding objects separately. By its very nature it is impelled to compare them with one another, to discover their similar or diverse properties, to trace their relations, their respective fitnesses, and their common bearing. And it never rejoices more than when it attains to some great Law, which all things obey, and by which all are bound together. Through this principle we have learned that the sun, earth, and planets form a connected whole, and obey one law, called attraction; and still more, we have risen to the sublime conviction that all the j heavenly bodies, countless as they may be, are linked together by mutual dependencies and beneficent influences into one system. Now this tendency to search for I connection and harmony — for Unity — in the infinite ^ variety of nature, is a direct tendency to a belief in One God. For this unity of nature manifestly proves, and can only be explained by, unity of thought, design, and intelligent power; that is, it proclaims One Omnipotent, All-comprehending Creator. 2. Look next at the Conscience; and here we see another natural tendency to religion. What particularly strikes us in this principle of our nature, is that it not only enjoins the law of duty, but intimates that there is a Ruler above us, by whom this Law will be sustained and executed. Conscience speaks not as a solitary, inde- pendent guide, but as the delegate of a higher Legislator. [ Its convictions of right and wrong are accompanied with I the idea of an Authority more awful than man’s, by which these distinctions will be enforced. That this is the natural suggestion of Conscience we learn from the fact that men in different ages, countries, and conditions have so generally agreed in speaking of the inward monitor as the voice of the Divinity. In approving or condemning ourselves, we do not feel as if we alone are the judges, but we have a presentiment of standing before another tribunal. Es{)ecially when we see the wrong-doer pro.s- perous, do we feel as if the injustice of fortune ought to be redressed. We demand an Almighty Patron of virtue. Retribution is the claim of our moral nature. So powerful is this tendency of Conscience to assert a righteous Deity, that we cannot escape the sense of His Presence. Often when the guilty have tried to efface the impression of a Supreme Lawgiver, the commanding truth has defied their power. The handwriting of the Divinity in the soul, though seemingly obliterated, has come out with awful distinctness in the solemn seasons of life. Thus Conscience is a prophet of religion. And in proportion as it is obeyed, and the idea of Right becomes real and living within us, the existence of the Almighty Friend of virtue is intimately felt, and with profoundest reverence. 3. If we pass next to the Affections, we shall recognise still more clearly that our nature is formed for religion. What is the first affection awakened in the human heart? It is filial love, a grateful sense of parental kindness. And is not this the seed and prime principle of religion ? For what is religion but filial love rising to our Father in heaven? Thus the first emotion of the human heart is virtually towards God. Its first spontaneous impulse is an element of piety. Another characteristic emotion of our nature is that feeling of Approbation with which we look on disinterested benevolence. We cannot conceive of a human being quite wanting in this moral principle, whose heart would not expand at witnessing in a fellow man philanthropy unaffected, unwearied, and diffusing happiness far and THE RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLE IN HUMAN NATURE. wide. Here is another germ of religion. For what is religion but sympathetic joy in the unbounded beneficence of God? What but this very affection of esteem raised to Him who is the source of all good-will in men, and before whose glory of disinterested love all other goodness is but a shadow? I proceed to another affection of our nature which bears strong testimony to our being born of religion. I refer to the emotion which leads us to revere what is higher than ourselves, to wonder at the incomprehensible, to admire the vast, to adore the majestic. There is in human nature an affinity with what is mighty, an awful i delight in what is sublime. It is this emotion which draws man to the grandest scenes of nature, to the wilder- ness and ocean, to thundering cataracts, and the still, solemn mountain top. It is manifested in the interest which the multitude take in persons of commanding intellectual energy, of heroic courage, of all-sacrificing devotion to the cause of freedom and humanity. Men are attracted by no quality so much as by sovereign greatness of will. They love whatever bears the impress of the infinite. So strong is this principle of Reverence, that when fallen from the knowledge of the true God, they have sought substitutes in their own teeming imagi- nation, have deified fellow-men, have invented beings in whom they might concentrate and embody their concep- tions, just or unjust, of Supreme dignity. Thus the heart was made for worship, and worship it will. It longs for something more excellent than it finds on earth. In works of poetry and fiction, it continually creates for itself a more than human glory. This emotion of Reverence is a perpetual impulse in the soul towards God. Another emotion of our nature, and closely related to reverence, next claims regard as a germ of religion. This is the love of the beautiful. Beauty, that mysterious charm which is spread over and through the universe, who is unconscious of its winning attraction? Whose heart has not softened into joy, as he has looked on hill and valley and cultivated plain, on stream and forest, on the rising or setting sun, on the constant stars and the serene sky? Now whenever this love of the beautiful unfolds into strong emotion, its natural influence is to lead up our minds to contemplate a brighter Beauty than is revealed in creation. To them, who have eyes to see and hearts to feel the loveliness of nature, it speaks of a higher, holier Presence. They hear God in its solemn harmonies; they behold Him in its fresh verdure, fair forms, and sunny hues. To great numbers, I am jjersuaded, the beauty of nature is a more affecting testi- mony to God than even its wise contrivance. For this beauty of the universe is an emblem and revelation of the Divinity, and the love of it is given to guide us to the All-Beautiful. Thus w'e see that human nature is impelled by affections of gratitude, esteem, veneration, joy, not to mention various others, which prepare us to be touched and penetrated by the infinite goodness of God, and which, when directed to Him, constitute piety. That these emotions are designed to be devoted peculiarly to the Creator, we learn from the fact that they are boundless in their range, and demand an Unbounded Object. They cannot satisfy themselves with the degrees of love, intel- ligence, and power which are found in human beings. They excite the imagination to conceive of higher, richer, ampler excellence than exists on earth. They delight in the infinite, and never can they find repose but in an Infinite Being, who combines all good. 4. I might easily multiply views of human nature, all tending to show that religion is natural to man. But I will add only that the human soul has two central motive principles, which are specially fitted to raise it to God. There is in all human beings an insatiable desire for Happiness, which can never be appeased in our present existence, which the universe is wholly inadequate to gratify, which becomes only more intense amidst life’s sufferings and disappointments, and which is only deepened, I expanded, and purified by our highest experience of joy. And there is in refined minds a stilt profounder and more urgent impulse, already indicated — the longing for Per- fection, for deliverance from all evil, for perpetual progress, the desire to realise in character that bright Ideal of which all noble souls conceive. These aspirations appear wherever men are found, now m sighs and lamentations, now in struggles and ardent efforts. But there is no good on earth that can fulfil their claim.s. They require an Infinite Blessedness and Perfection; and innumerable weary spirits have they led up to God. 5. Thus have I endeavoured to show, by a few illus- trations, that all the great principles of human nature are germs of religion, as impulses towards God. If further proof were needed of its congeniality with our nature, I could appeal to facts. Let us ask History, then, whether religion be natural to men. What principle has acted with equal energy on human affairs? To what principle did all ancient legislators appeal as the foundation of civil institutions? To religion. What principle was it that gave Mohammed the Empire of the East? What prin- ciple, under the Crusades, precipitated Europe into Asia? I grant that these movements arose out of excesses of the religious principle. But w'e learn by its excesses how' deeply planted are its roots in our nature. And in the largest historic view, what principle is it that has produced in all times and lands the most devoted and fearless martyrs, that has sung hymns of praise in the depths of dungeons, that has smiled with hope on the scaffold, endured without a groan the rack ar>d fire, and refused to accept deliverance when one recanting word would have set the sufferer free! O the miraculous power of the religious principle in the human soul ! How has it led men to forsake the cheerful haunts of their fellow- beings, and to live in solitary cells, that in silence they might open their hearts to God, and feel his joy-inspiring presence ! What has it not strengthened men to do and to suffer ! What speechless sorrows has it not soothed ! What strength, peace, hope, has it not breathed into the dying! Yet it is a question whether our nature was formed for religion ! The strongest loye which the human heart has ever felt has been that for its Heavenly Parent. Was it not then constituted for this love? Where but in God can it find an Object for its overflowing fulness, of reverence and affection, of aspiration and hope? III. — My friends, we all possess indeed this capacity for religion. Let us not wrong it by neglect. It is, as we have seen, the central and all-pervading principle of Human Nature. And by proper means it may be culti- vated, expanded, and made supreme. 'I'o give it life and vigour should be our highest aim. Here is the great field for our activity. By turning our chief energies abroad, we frustrate the end, and defraud ourselves of the proper happiness of our being. The world within is our great domain, worth infinitely more than the world with*- 4 THE RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLE IN HUMAN NATURE. out. To enthrone God in our inmost being is an immeasurably grander aim than to dispose of all out- ward realms. A\’e boast of the power which we are daily gaining over material nature, how we bend the elements — fire, wind, steam — to our uses; and we look with com- passion, if not scorn, on ages when man did not dream of this dominion. But may not a more fatal ignorance be found among ourselves? There is a loftier power of which we seldom adequately conceive. It is man’s power to combine and direct the spiritual elements of his being, his power to free the intellect from prejudice and open it to the influx of Truth, his j)ower to disengage the heart from degrading selfishness and to commune with God by disinterested love. This power we all possess, and we should prize it more than life. By this language I do not mean that we are to exalt our religious character by ourselves alone. 1 am not so unwise as to claim for men any independent strength. The truth is, we cannot learn a science, art, or language without aid. It is only by help from other minds that we improve our own, or achieve any important enterprise. It is only by help from the mineral world and the ele- ments that we cultivate the land or traverse the sea. And without God’s perpetual sustenance we could do abso- lutely nothing, and should not even exist. I am not teaching man’s isolated energy. His power consists in ability to seek and use assistance from nature and from his fellow-creatures. Above all it consists in ability to seek and to use Spiritual Influence from God. This Influence may be gained by asi)iration and by effort. It is in truth constantly e.xertcd upon us, even when unsought — exerted in every dictate, encouragement, warning, reproof of conscience and reason, in every secret longing of the soul for freedom from error and evil and for growth in wisdom and virtue. Aids without measure are offered to us by God. And when I say that love towards God is jdaced within our reach, I mean that it is so placed by the Inspiration which He incessantly I)ours on every human being. What might we not become, were we but just to our- selves and to the means of religious life thus bountifully afforded from heaven! We have all, I trust, a faith in God, and occasionally recognise our near relation to Him. But we can attain to more than cold belief, to more than formal wbrship, or to transient emotions of gratitude. The religious principle may become the very Life of our souls. God, now so distant and perhaps little more than a name, may become to us the nearest and most real of all beings. AV’e may cherish a reverence and attachment to Him more profound and devoted than the affections with which we embrace parent, and child, and dearest human friends. And through this strength of piety we may gain an immovable strength of moral principle, an unbounded philanthropy and a peace which passeth know- ledge. This capacity for religion is a spring of perennial freshness in every human breast. I would not resign it for the gift of countless worlds. It invites us to Him from whom, as a living centre, all suns and systems with their beauty and blessedness shine forth, and of whose glory they are but the dim reflex. We pity the barbarian in whom intellect and imagination and sensibility slumber. But do not diviner capacities slumber in many of us? Gifted with the power of honouring God and of living with Him in filial intimacy, do we not desert Him and bury our souls in transient cares, distinctions, gains, amusements? Let us retire into ourselves, and become conscious of our own nature and of its high destination. Let us not profanely debase or destroy it. There is an inward suicide more awful than the destruction of the animal life, an inward ruin more mournful than any wrought by the conflagration of cities, or the desolation of whirlwinds. The saddest spectacle in this or in any world is a rational and moral being, smitten with spiritual death, alive only to what is material and earthly, living without God and without hope. Beware of this inward death, this insensibility to the Presence, the Authority, the Goodness of our Heavenly Father. 1 Do you ask by what means this end of entering into living communion with God can be attained? I answer first: Let us each put forth our best force of Intellect in gaining clearer and brighter conceptions of the Divine Being. W’e must consecrate our loftiest powers of thought to this sublime reality. We must not leave to others the duty of thinking for us. We must not be con- tented to look through others’ eyes. We must exercise j our own minds with concentrated and continuous energy. I One chief source of truth for us in regard to God is , Revelation; and this, accordingly, should claim our most I serious and devoted study. But when I thus speak of Revelation, I mean the Christian Religion. In the Jewish ^ Scriptures, though many sublime passages are found in ^ relation to the Supreme Divinity, yet in many others the image given of God is adapted to a rude state of society only and to a very immature stageof the human mind. And I not a few Christians have depressed their idea of the Infinite Being, by conceiving of Him as He was represented in half-barbarous ages, instead of learning to know Him j from Jesus, who came to scatter the shades of Judaism I as well as of heathenism, and who alone reveals the Father — or the Paternal Character of the Creator — in full glory. Again, in studying the Christian Revelation, we must take our views of God from what is clear rather than what is obscure, from the simple teachings of Jesus, rather than from the dark reasonings in some parts of the Epistles. Still more we are to learn the Divine Character in Christianity, not merely from passages which expressly describe Him, but from the character of Jesus Christ, who came to be an image of the Father, and also from the character which Jesus thinks to form in us — that is, from the precepts of this religion; for these are intended to exalt us into the likeness of God. Whoever combines these three sources of knowledge — the express declara- tions concerning God — the virtues manifested in Jesus Christ — and the virtues which he inculcates, — whoever looks to these, for the Character of the Supreme Being, cannot misapprehend its grand features. I have said that our best force of Intellect is to be employed on Revelation. But Revelation is not the only source of spiritual light. The great design of Jesus Christ is to teach us to see God everywhere, in Nature, in Providence, and in the Human Soul. He perpetually points to God’s works for instruction, and to His manifestations through humanity. And we cannot comprehend him aright, if we do not go beyond Revelation, and take lessons in religion from all that we observe, enjoy and suffer. Jesus came, not to shut us up in a Book, but to open the uni- verse as our School of spiritual education. But in teaching you to use the Intellect faithfully and independently in acquiring just views of God, I have given the least important precept. With this we must join obedience to God’s Will, so far as we know it, or all intellectual effort will avail us little. We may indeed by THE RELIGIOUS PRINCIILE IN HUMAN NATURE. 5 study, or by living among enlightened people, acquire a just theory in regard to our Creator. But it will be Theory only. It will be a knowledge of words more than of realities — a vague superficial apprehension — unless the mind prepare itself by purifying obedience for an intimate knowledge of God. Moral discipline is much more important than a merely intellectual one, for gaining just apprehensions of the Supreme Being. I beg you to con- sider this. To know God we must have within ourselves something congenial to Him. No outward light, not the teachings of hosts of angels, could give a bad man bright conceptions of God. A man who yields himself up to selfish ambition, to avarice, to sensuality or to sloth, who sears his conscience and hardens his heart, is as effectually shutting his mind on the All-Good, as he would deprive himself of the light of the sun by deadening the optic nerve or by destroying the structure of the eye. Intel- I lectual learning helps a man not a step towards God unless conjoined with inward spiritual discipline — govern- , ment of the passions, reverence for conscience, and grow- ing development of good principles and affections within. The Infinite Spirit must be revealed to us in the unfold- ing and operation of our own Spirits, or we shall never truly know Him. For example, God’s Purity, or aversion to sin, may be read and talked of, but is never under- stood, until conscience within us is encouraged to reprove all forms of evil. The solemn and tender reproof of this inward monitor alone enables us to know the moral dis- pleasure of the righteous Lawgiver, in whose name and with whose authority it speaks. In the same manner we have a superficial knowledge only of God’s Goodness, we know nothing of it intimately, until a Spirit of I.ove, bearing some resemblance to His own, springs up within; until, through some conquest over the selfish principle, virtuous benevolence begins its work in our minds. This it is that helps us to comprehend the Father, to recognise and respond to that Love, which shines forth from every region of creation. Again, every man who has read the New Testament knows how it teaches that the mind is God’s great work, and that it is destined to an immortal existence. But the mere reading of this in a book gives us no conception of the reality. Unless my own spirit makes progress in truth and virtue, and so reveals to me a measure of its power and beauty, I may hear about immortality, but I shall receive little more than a sound. Nothing external can tell me what a glorious principle the ; Mind is. The sublimest work of the Creative Mind will be hidden from me. And having in my own heart nothing which speaks of the Immortal Life, that doctrine will be but a word on my lips. I appeal to you all for a confirmation of this. I ask you whether thousands under the bright light of Christianity are not almost as ignorant, as the heathen, of the true God. Do not a few common- places or trite e.xpressions, about his greatnes,s, goodness, and mercy, uttered in a manner which shows that their meaning is not felt, make up their stock of knowledge on the sublimest realities? No outward teaching can ' bring us to a vision of the Divine Being. The soul must join with intellectual effort a moral operation upon itself And Christianity contributes to our knowledge of God, by nothing more than by setting this truth before us, by awakening a consciousness of our infirmities, and by inciting us to obey the conscience in its remonstrances against sin, and its monitions to duty. Would you then attain to the love of God with all the heart, and soul, and mind, and strength, begin with purifying yourself from all known evil. Let your fervent prayer be to Him to animate you in your conflict with bad passions and habits, and in steadfast obedience to His Will. With this purifying purpose of obedience, read the Scriptures; and the simple passages, in which Jesus speaks of his Father, will open on your minds with new brightness. In this temper study the character of Jesus; and in him, who was the image of the Father, you will learn to see more and more distinctly the fulness and freeness of Divine Benevolence. In this spirit of obedience look on nature, and observe the works of the Creator, and their beauty and harmony will become more touching, till gradually heaven and earth will grow eloquent in their Author’s praise. In this spirit look into your own minds, observe what is good and great in the minds of others, and the Infinite Mind will more and more appear to you in his crowning creation, the human soul. And finally, with this purifying purpose of duty, pray for the Divine Spirit, and you will receive it. A secret Influence will aid your efforts after oneness with the Holy One. Peace, silent as dew, will distil on you from heaven. I believe, too, that with such a temper and life, you may enjoy something more than distant communications from the Father of Spirits; that you may be favoured with those blessed seasons of universal light and strength, of which good men have often spoken, in which the mind seems warmed by a new flame, and quickened by a new energy from on high, and which, though not miraculous, still bring with them a near consciousness of the Divine Original, and come like the very Breath of God upon the soul. Through these various methods, you will ascend by degrees to a living communion with our Creator, which, however low com- l)ared with what awaits you in another life, will yet be lofty in contrast with all you could have conceived of, in the beginning of your religious course. I close with re-affirming the truth that I have aimed to impress. Religion is not an unnatural or unattainable good. Its germs exist in us all. We have, each of us, the spiritual eye to see, the mind to know, the heart to love, the will to obey God. We have a Spiritual Nature that may bear the image of Divine Perfection. Glorious privilege ! Let us not cast it away. Let us not waste our souls on perishable objects. For these souls may become Temples for indwelling Divinity. 'Phey may even par- take of the glory and the blessedness of the Living God. May we all, through a just exercise of intellect, and a sincere and purifying obedience, enjoy this gradual illu- mination and sanctification, which are the beginning of Heaven! You will then learn how cold is the most earnest language of the preacher, and how inadequately the loftiest human eloquence can unfold the blessedness of a spirit making progress towards fellowship with the All-Perfect One. GOD REVEALED IN THE UNIVERSE AND IN HUMANITY Proverbs viii. 1-4: “ Doth not Wisdom cry? and Understanding I put forth her voice? . . . Unto you, O Men, I call, and my voice is to the sons of Man.” | The passage from which these words are taken is designed to teach that the Truth, which can guide us to Perfection and to Happiness, is teaching us always and everywhere; that God surrounds us constantly with His instruction; that wherever we go the voice of His wisdom follows us; that it is our own fault if we are not continu- ally becoming wiser and better. This universal presence of Truth is the subject to which I ask your attention. I'o understand this will help us to understand our whole existence. For it will show us that under every lot we have exhaustless means of growth. And thus it will awaken us to new faithfulness in the use of our privileges, and to new efforts in the pursuit of Goodness. Wisdom is omnipresent. Everywhere it comes to meet u.s. It shines in the sun. It irradiates the heavens. It whispers through all sounds of nature. It beams resplendent from the characters of good and wise men, and more brightly still in our own souls. Our teachers are thus all around and within, above and beneath. Divine Wisdom is not shut up within any book. It is not heard from pulpits alone. It has better preachers than all ministers. And one great aim of the true minister is to help his hearers to understand wiser teachers than himself, and to open their ears to more harmonious voices. By turning their minds to the lessons of every day, he should make them feel that they are in a higher than any human .school, — in God’s own School, the School of the Universe, — where always and everywhere they may be gathering treasures of Truth. Jesus said: “I am the Light of the World.” And when did he say this? At the moment when he was about to 0])en the eyes of the blind man. To that man he was to be a light. And how? By creating a new light for him? No! The light existed already. The sun was shining on him then in unclouded splendour. A thin menybrane was the sole barrier between that blind man and the glorious world which lay around on every side. By lifting this veil Jesus gave him light. In a similar way Jesus Christ is a light to us spiritually. He creates no new truth ; for Truth is eternal. And what is still more important, he does not teach truth wholly new to men. 'I'he great princi})les of religion belong to Human Nature; and they are manifested in all God’s Works and in His Providence. We live in darkness, not because there is no Sun of Truth shining on and around us. For a spiritual light, brighter than that of noon, l^ervades our daily life. The cause of our not seeing is in ourselves. The inward eye is diseased or shut. Were that but opened, we should at once be introduced into a Si)iritual Universe, fairer and more magnificent than the Creation which burst on the eye of the blind man, when Jesus said: “ Receive thy sight.” Wisdom is omnipresent. The greatest truths meet us at every turn. Jesus came to reveal the Father. But is God, the Infinite and Universal Father, made known only by a single voice, heard ages ago on the banks of the Jordan, or by the sea of Tiberias? Is it an unknown tongue that the heavens and earth for ever utter? Is nature’s page a blank? Does the human soul report nothing of its Creator? Does conscience announce no Authority higher than its own? Does reason discern no trace of an Intelligence, that it cannot comprehend, and yet of which it is itself a ray? Does the heart find in the circuits of creation no Friend worthy of trust and love? O, yes! God is on every side, not only by His essential invisible presence, but by His manifestations of Power and Perfection. We fail to see Him, not from want of light, but from want of spiritual vision. The same remark may be extended to Jesus’ doctrine of Immortality, though with limitation. The future world indeed is in no way laid open to the senses. But the idea of it is one of the most universally recognised among men. The thought of Immortal Life preceded Jesus. We meet glimmerings of it even in the darkest and most barbarous times. The germ of this great truth is in our Nature; in the Conscience, that includes as one of its elements a presentiment of retribution; in the Reason, that beholds in the present an incomplete destiny, needing to be continued for the fulfilment of its end; in the thirst for Happiness, that is too deep to be satisfied on earth, but opens into aspiration towards an infinitely Blessed Being; in the love of moral goodness and beauty, which, in proportion as it is cultivated, awakens the Ideal of spotless virtue and a desire of com- munity with the All-Perfect One. The voice of our whole nature indeed, proi)erly interjireted, is a cry after higher existence. The restless activity of life is but a pressing forward towards a fulness of good not to be found on earth, and indicates our destination for a state more brightly beautiful than we can now conceive. Heaven is in truth revealed to us, in every pure affection of the human heart, and in every wise and beneficent action, that uplifts the soul in adoration and gratitude. For Heaven is only purity, wisdom, benevolence, joy, peace, in their perfected form. Thus the Immortal Life may be said to surround us perpetually. Some beams of its glory shine upon us in whatever is lovely, heroic, and virtuously happy in ourselves or in others. The pure mind carries Heaven within it.self, and manifests that Heaven to all around. In saying that the great truths of religion are shining all about and within us, I am not questioning the worth of the Christian Revelation. The Christian Religion concentrates the truth diffused through the universe, and pours it upon the mind with solar lustre. Still more it heals our blindness by exposing the passions and sins, which veil the mind against the light of the Spirit, and furnishing the means to remove the films, which gather over the inward eye and prevent us from seeing the revelations of Nature. We cannot find language to express the worth of the illumination thus given through Jesus Christ. But we shall err greatly, if we imagine that his Gospel is the only light, that every ray comes to us from a single Book, that no splendours issue from God’s Works and Providence, that we have no teacher in religion but the few pages bound up in our Bibles. Jesus Christ came, not only to give us his peculiar teach- ing, but to introduce us to the imperishable lessons which God for ever furnishes in our own and all Human GOD REVEALED IN THE UNIVERSE AND IN HUMANITY. 7 Experience, and in the laws and movements of the Universe. He intends, not that we should hear his voice alone, but that we should open our ears to the countless voices of wisdom, virtue, piety, which now in whispers, now in thunders, issue from the whole of Nature and of Life. He does not give us a narrow system, and command us to bound inquiry within its limits. He does not prison reason by a rigid, formal creed. He gives us generous Principles, which we are to carry out and apply everywhere, and by which we are to interpret all e.xistence. He who studies nothing but the Bible, does not study that book aright. For were it rightly read, it would send him for instruction to every creature that God hath made, and to every event wherein God is acting. That reader has not read aright the Sermon on the Mount, who has not learned to read sermons in the changes of the seasons and in the changes of human history. Wisdom spoke through Jesus as her Chief Oracle. She beamed forth from the life and lessons of this Divine Saviour, with the pure unsullied glory in which she manifests herself in Heaven. But Wisdom does not confine herself to one shrine. Her light is not bounded to a single orb. To the humblest that calls she gives her responses. We live amidst a host of teachers of moral and religious truth. Unsought, unpaid, they beset our path. Rejected, they still plead. They begin their ministry with our first breath ; and they do not forsake us in the last hour. In these remarks I have again and again referred to Two Great Teachers, which are always giving us lessons of Wisdom: ist. The Outward Universe; and 2nd, The World of Thinking, Moral Beings. My chief purpose in this discourse is to direct you to the voice of Wisdom that issues from Humanity. But the Revelation of God through Nature shall be briefly considered first. I. — The voice of Wisdom — that is of Moral and Religious Truth — speaks to us from the Universe. What a blessing would it be to us, one and all, could we but really wake up to the glory of this Creation, in which we live ! Most men are actually asleep for their lifetime in this vast and magnificent world. Mighty changes are going on around them, fitted to entrance their souls in wonder and thankfulness; and yet they are moved no more than if they were shut up in a mill, seeing only the perpetual revolution of spindles, and hearing only the monotonous hum and clatter of machinery. We might have been born amidst such machinery, had the Creator so pleased. And men’s insensibility often seems to deserve no better lot. But instead of being pent within narrow walls, we live amidst this immeasurable Universe. Instead of a few pale lamps giving only necessary rays, oceans of light daily overflow this planet whereon we dwell, with inexhaustible splendour and beauty. And the fire that sustains the life of earth’s creatures is for ever freshly kindled millions of miles away. If I should be called to express in a word the most important lesson that Wisdom utters in the Creation, I should say it is this. Nature everywhere testifies to the Infinity of its Author. It bears throughout the impress of the Infinite. It proclaims a Perfection illimitable, unsearchable, transcending all thought and utterance. It is modelled and moulded, as a whole and in its least molecule, with grandeur, unfathomable intelli- gence, and inexhaustible bounty. This is the glory of the Universe. And to behold this is to understand the Universe. Until thus we see the Infinite in Nature, we have not learned the lesson that Wisdom is everywhere- teaching. I say that the Infinite is revealed in all things. I do not except the most common. The stone falls to the ground by a force that controls the sun, the planets, and all worlds throughout immensity. Did not the dropping apple reveal to Newton that the very law, which brought that fruit to the ground, keeps the earth in its orbit, and binds creation into one harmoniou.*? whole? Behold the humblest wild flower. To produce that weed all Nature has conspired. Into itself it receives the influence of all the elements — light, heat, and air. Sun, earth, and ocean meet to pay it tribute. The least thing in nature acts upon all things, and is acted on by all; so that each implies all and is repre- sented in all. In a word, to understand the simplest work of God, the Universe must be comprehended. P’or that work, however frail and transient, could not exist, did not all things else exist. It is a living part of thi.s mighty living Universe. It has innumerable ties with the limitless Creation — connections too subtle, swift, and ever-changing, for any finite mind to trace. Thus each minutest particle speaks of the Infinite One, and utters the divinest truth which can be declared on earth or in heaven. Again, there is an impenetrable Mystery in every action and force of the Universe, that envelopes our daily existence with wonder and makes sublime the familiar processes of the commonest arts. How astonish- ingly does Nature differ in her modes of production from the works of human skill. In a machine of man’s making we can trace the motive power, and detect the arrangement whereby this power is transferred from part to part. But in Nature, so vibrating with motion, where is the Moving Energy? Can you discern the all- embracing, all-pervading Force that gives the primal impulse to the moving whole, and perpetuates movement through immensity; that wheels planets and suns in their vast orbits, and at the same instant quickens countless and multiform animals and plants? Look at a grain of wheat ! That seed is the fruit of all harvests of past ages since the creation of the w'orld. It carries us back to the hour when the morning stars sang for joy over the new- born earth. In it are centred the combined forces of suns and rains, of soils and climates, for a period of which history has no record. And again, this tiny seed has within it prolific energy to cover whole kingdoms, it may be the w'hole globe, with vegetation, and to multiply itself without end. On such mysteries as these the science of ages has shed little or no light. And they open a deeper mystery still. What and whence is that principle called Life, to which this seed owes its distinctive organic character — which can modify and counteract the laws of nature, which can mould the plant to symmetric wholeness and unfold it into consummate beauty? Life, that awful power, so endlessly various in the forms it assumes — Life that fills earth, air, and sea with motion, growth, activity, and joy — Life that enlivens us, what is- it? What sight can discern, what thought explore its mystery? Thus the Infinite, the Mysterious, the Un- searchable meets us, veiled in the lowfliest creations. But that which falls within the range of our senses is as nothing compared with the invisible, the intangible, the incomprehensible, that lies beneath. And if Wisdom thus speaks through the minutest existence, what a voi^'c comes to us from the Immensity, wherein we are encom- passed ! 8 GOD REVEALED IN THE UNIVERSE What blessedness it is to dwell amidst this transparent I air, which the eye can pierce without limit, amidst these floods of pure, soft, cheering light, under this immeasur- ! able arcn of heaven, and in sight of these countless stars ! 1 An Infinite Universe is each moment opened to our i view. And this Universe is the sign and symbol of i Infinite Power, Intelligence, Purity, Bliss, and Love. It I is a pledge from the Living God of boundless and end- less communications of happiness, truth, and virtue. 'I'hus are we always in contact, if I may so say, with the Infinite, as comprehended, penetrated, and quickened by it. What unutterable import is there in the teachings of such a Revelation 1 What a Name is written all through it in characters of celestial light 1 A Spiritual A’oice pervades it, more solemn, sublime, and thrilling, than if the roar of oceans, thunders, whirlwinds, and con- flagrations were concentrated in one burst of praise. This voice is all the more eloquent because it is spiritual; t)ecause it is the voice in which the All- Wise speaks to all Intelligences. II. — This leads us to consider the voice of Wisdom [ that utters itself from the Spiritual World, the world of moral and ^intelligent beings, the Humanity of which we each form a part. This topic is immense. Lor the book of Human Nature has no end. New pages are added to it every day through successive generations. The moral and religious truths, which Wisdom may draw from the human soul, from human life, from human experience, cannot be exhausted. From these I shall select one great lesson only, which all history attests. This lesson is that there is in human nature an element truly Divine, and worthy of all reverence; that the Infinite which is mirrored in the outward Universe is yet more brightly imaged in the inward Spiritual World; or, in other words, that man has powers and princi[)les, predicting a destiny to which no bound can be prescribed, which are full of mystery, and even more incomprehensible than those revealed through the material creation. That this is the lesson uttered continually by Wisdom through what we see familiarly in human life, is a doctrine that may startle some, who think that observation leads to very opposite results. To many persons, history and experience seem to warrant no feelings higher than j)ity or contempt for their race. The error of these observers should be traced to two sources : first, they do not under- stand the highest office of Wisdom; secondly, they rest in a half-wisdom which is worse than ignorance. To each of these errors a few words may be given. I. They who disparage Human Nature, do so from ignorance of one of the highest offices of wisdom. The chief work of Wisdom consists in the interpretation of Signs. To know what is presenc and visible merely is to know nothing. The great aim should be to discern what the visible present signifies, what it foreshows, what is to spring from it, what is wrapped up in it as a germ. Wisdom sees the future in the present, for it sees in the jjresent the signs of that future. This actual world may be defined as a world of Signs. What we see is but the sign of what is unseen. Beneath the properties which meet the eye, lie others incomparably more potent. In life an event is the prophetic sign and forerunner of other coming events; and its importance almost always con- sists, not in its own independent character, but in the tendencies and influences which are wrapt up in it, in the future good or ill of which it is the harbinger. These remarks peculiarly apply to Human Nature. For of this it may be said that we know hardly anything but signs. It has merely begun its development. It has taken the first step only in an endless career. Its best emblem is the seed just shooting above the surface of the earth, and struggling to disclose its folded petals. That which man has as yet felt and thought and done, is a foretoken only of what he is to feel and think and do. The worth of his best attainment lies in what it prepares for. The present stage in Man’s history, studied without reference to his future, would lead to endless error. For his highest improvement is but a hint and faint foreshadow of his destination. 2 . The second consideration, by which may be ex- plained the common erroneous estimate of Human Nature, is that most men rest in a half-wisdom, which is worse than ignorance. 'I'hey who speak most con- temptuously of man tell the truth, but only half the truth. 'I'he wounds and sores of human nature, which they delight to expose, are real. In condemning human crimes they invent nothing, they exaggerate nothing. History and ex|)erience do testify to a wide-spread taint of selfishness and injustice in our Race. They who assert the greatness of human nature, do not differ on this point from its vituperators. They do not bandage their eyes. They see as much of guilt as the man of wordly wisdom. But here lies the difference between them and the wordly wise. Amidst the passions and selfishness of men they see another element — a Divine element, a Spiritual Principle. They see powers and affections always struggling against evil in the human heart, which are celestial in their nature, and which speak of an immortal destiny. In these they discern the true interpretation of Human Nature, in its origin and its end. Let us avoid half-wisdom. It is the root of the most fatal prejudice. We wrong individuals not so much by falsely ascribing to them defects, as by taking one-sided views of their characters as a whole. And in the same way we wrong our Race. I am willing to concede to the man of wordly wisdom all his charges against existing society. I will go farther, and tell him that he does not comprehend the depths of actual evil. For to do this requires a moral sensibility to which he has not attained. I have no eulogies to pronounce on the present condition of human nature, in even the most civilised communities. Our whole social fabric needs thorough, searching, com- plete reform. But I do not stop here. If I did, I should lose the great lesson that Wisdom proclaims from I every page of history. This lesson is, that Man, with all j his error.s, is a wonderful being, endowed with incom- prehensible grandeur, worthy of his own incessant vigi- lance and care, worthy to be visited with Infinite Love from Heaven. The Infinite is imaged in him more visibly than in the outward Universe. This is the great truth to be learned from all our social combinations. I This is the germ of all confident and joyful effort for human improvement. It is the very root of Free Insti- tutions. From it alone can spring high-toned moral relations and happy intercourse between men. 'Phis truth is the central principle of Christianity, and from failure to recognise this, our existing systems of education, policy, legislation, and social intercourse, are poor, narrow, and impotent. So great a truth is this, which I affirm as being taught from the whole of Man’s social life. I know with what incredulity I shall be heard, when thus asserting that the only lesson worth learning from society, is the one which as yet has been learned least. And AND IN HUMANITY. 9 unhappily false theology has joined with low worldliness in barring men’s minds against its reception. But it is not less true, nor less important, because doubted and denied. Man really is a mysterious being, endowed with divine powers and welcomed by a boundless destiny. Such is the truth. And I hold it all the faster for the incredulity of theologians and men of the world. Having thus combated the disparaging views so prevalent in regard to Human Nature, and having showed their origin, and proved that the very circumstances which give them birth, if justly interpreted, are sufficient to refute them, I shall next aim to exhibit directly the testimony of human life to the Divine in Man. The subject is so large, that it is best to fix attention on a single point. And I go at once to the most common, though the sublimest principle of man — the Moral Principle. What is so common as the idea of Right? Where do we not meet with its presence, in all relations of human life — in all systems of education, in our legislative halls, our historic memorials, our courts of justice, our tribunals of public opinion, our familiar con- versation, our private friendships, our humane and religious organisations? The whole of human life is indeed a recognition in some way or other of moral dis- tinctions. And no nation has existed, in any age, that has not caught a glimpse at least of the great principles of right and wrong. The Right, the Just, the Good, the Holy — these words express an excellence, that awakens in us emotions of reverence and esteem, altogether distinct from the impulses we feel towards other forms of Good. Con- science, in enjoining duty, reveals to us its supreme worth. The Right is higher altogether in its essential quality than the profitable, the agreeable, the graceful. It is that which must be done though all other things be left undone, that which must be gained though all else be lost. Other kinds of Good are valued in consequence of their adaptation to our peculiar constitution. But Justice, Goodness, and Right deserve to be valued for their own sake. It is conceivable that we might have been so framed as to prefer darkness to light, or to find nourishment in what is now poisonous. But a being so constituted as to see baseness in disinterested love and venerableness in malignity, would be an inconceivable monster. In truth we can no more imagine such a moral being than we can imagine an intelligent being who could think of a part as being greater than the whole. To perceive the Right then is to recognise the Supreme Good, that which is worthy of supreme love, that which not only solicits us by promises of enjoyment, but utters the voice of absolute command and claims sovereign dominion. How sublime then is this principle of Right, and how great the Mind of which it is an element ! Every human being I have said has this idea of Right. This is not all. He has not only the idea of Right; but he himself is capable of Rectitude. We are made not only to admire the Right; for the same faculty that dis- cerns it as a Universal Law, proclaims it to be our own Supreme Law. Right is not revealed to us as the glory of unapproachable beings, whom we must reverence at a hopeless distance. It is made known to us with the con- sciousness, that rectitude is bound up with our own lives. This we all feel. No experience is more familiar. And yet nothing more substantially great can be said of the Highest Being in the universe. Is there one among us who has never made a sacrifice to duty, never denied a passion, never foregone a pleasure, never borne a pain, rather than violate the inward law of Right? The power of resisting evil exists in every man, whether he will exercise it or not. The power of clinging to the Good, the Just, the Holy, amidst trial and loss — we all possess it. And we know that we have it; for we are conscious of our degradation when we fail to use it. This power, so con- tinually put forth by us all against inferior temptations, is a germ which may be expanded into a divine energy. In some men this celestial might is actually unfolded. And to them we should look, with grateful admiration and affectionate homage, as the true revelations of Human Nature. There have been men, in whom the Right, the Good, the Holy, have awakened all-conquering love; in whose spirits high moral excellence, such as was mani- fested in Jesus Christ, has shone with a brightness above the sun; who have concentrated the whole strength of their nature into the resolve of well-doing; who have grasped and held fast duty with a deliberate energy, which has grown in proportion to the powers arrayed against it — who could not be separated from the Right by tribulation and distress, by persecution or famine, by the rack or the sword. These are the heroes of human history, who give effulgence to the records of the past. Such heroism, though rare, is not superhuman. It is the expansion, the developed form only, of that very power, which every man puts forth, when he makes the slightest sacrifice to duty. This high rectitude exists as a seed in every heart. It is indeed the very essence of humanity. In the preceding remarks, I have spoken of the principles of Right in the human heart, as revealing duty to the Individual. I now proceed to another view, which has all along been implied, but which deserves distinct exposition. You perceive what is Right and Good, and feel yourself bound to respect it. But is this all? Does duty reveal itself as a personal obligation merely, or as confined to yourself? Is a rule made known, by which you alone are to walk? When justice, goodness, truth, purity, are urged on you by conscience, is there not a distinct conviction that these are not a merely personal obligation? Do you not at once recog- nise that a Law of Right is promulgated within you, to which all men are subject? Still more, do you not feel that this great Law of Right binds not only men, but all Intelligent Beings; that it is the law not of the earth only, but of the Universe? Does the Right seem to you a transient, arbitrary ordinance which may hereafter be repealed, and to which other beings and men may be strangers? Have you not, on the contrary, an intimate conviction that the Right is as everlasting, as it is uni- versal? Justice, goodness, disinterestedness, truth, purity, love — do you not transport these ideas to Heaven? Are they not in fact the essential elements of your conception of Heaven? Is it not through them that you imagine beings in higher stages of existence? Is not the very idea of a higher being this, that the elements of Moral Perfec- tion dwell in him in fulness and unity, as they are not unfolded upon earth? Here then we learn the greatness of Human Nature. This moral principle — the Supreme Law in man — is the Law of the Universe — the very Law to which the highest beings are subject, and in obeying which they find their elevation and their joy. Then man and the highest beings are essentially of One Order. They form One Family. The same Spirit of Goodness enlivens . all. To all there is the same Supreme Law, the same [O GOD REVEALED IN THE UNIVERSE AND IN HUMANITY. Supreme Good! Imagination and genius, in their most inspired moments, can picture nothing in heaven brighter than Moral Goodness — that very Goodness of which the germ unfolds in the humblest human heart. This Good- ness is seen by us intuitively to be confined to no place, to no time, to be the growth of no nation and of no world, but to be universal, eternal, immutable, absolute, and worthy of highest veneration and love by All Spirits, tor ever. Can we then look on the human soul, which is at once the oracle and the subject of this Universal and Eternal Law, as created only for time and this narrow earth ? As yet, we have but approached the true greatness of Human Nature. Ne come now to views of the Soul which thrill us with transport, for the utterance of which all language is feeble, and towards which all thought is but a faint appro.ximation. Man, though human by nature, is capable of conceiving the Idea of God, of entering into strong, close, tender and purifying relations with God, and even of participating in God’s Perfection and Happiness. AVe hear this great truth unmoved. It is a truth to wake the dead! It ought to exalt our whole life into joy. AVhat I have thus far said is but a prepara- tion for this. I have spoken of the principle of the Right, the Good, the Holy. But without this Idea of God — the Perfect Being — the moral princijile would pine and die in its conflict with evil. I have spoken of the unbounded tendencies and asjiirations of this princijfle; but without an Infinite Father for their object and sup- port such aspirations would be vain yearnings, and would soon give room to despair. This moral nature within us, so alive to the Right, is still weak and imperfect, needing to be nourished, fortified, and fulfilled by communion with Supreme Excellence. It needs a Perfect Being for it.s love, an Almighty Being for its trust, an Everlasting Being under whose unchangeable aid it may unfold for ever. It cannot live and move without faith in the Righteous Governor of the Universe, who will repress wrong and reward well-doing with the best of all recom- penses, growing strength in highest virtue, d'hus the moral nature of man feels after and must find God. 'Phe reason why men see God in the outward creation is that their own nature has an affinity with Him, and cannot be unfolded or find rejiose without Him. AVe comprehend and desire Him, because we carry His image in our •Moral and Intellectual Powers, and because these tend to their Source. Is there nothing great then in Human Nature? AA'ithin it is wrapped up this Idea of God; it is carried to Him by inward impulses and wants. It sees in the outward creation God’s Omnipotence. But it hears in its own conscience the voice of God’s Authority. It feels itself vitally related to God, not merely like matter by physical dependence, but by a moral law. It has a consciousness of accountableness to Him, which in its degradation even it cannot throw off. It can reverence God, and still more it can love Him. Is there no grandeur in such a Nature? There can be no higher Idea in the universe than this of God. There can be no greatness like that of adoring Him, of harmony with His Goodness, of concord with His AA'ill. This adoration, this concord, are not only within man’s power, but they are the very end of his being; and in no other destiny can we find rest and joy. It is true that the Idea of God has been mournfully obscured by human passions. Still, amidst the ruins of man’s religious nature some ce’estial fire has slumbered. And particularly interesting is it to observe how the con- sciousness of some divine element in human nature has mingled with the grossest superstition. Thus we witness, widely spread among heathen nations, the practice of deifying distinguished men — legislators, patriots, heroes. But why were the greatest and best on earth believed to be raised to heaven? Because the illustrious of the race were thought to be of the same family with the gods. There was gross suiierstition in this worship offered to the dead. But beneath that error, as beneath most errors, lay a great truth. In that widespread practice the affinity between Clod and Man was dimly shadowed forth. Therein appeared that truth which has since shone out so brightly in the union of the Human and the Divine, in the character of Jesus Christ. How sublimely great is Man, when thus regarded as a Spiritual Being in fellow- ship with the Infinite Sj^irit! AA’ithin him is enshrined the Idea of Ciod. He calls God his Father. And now it may be asked, what are the practical uses of these views? I answer, the greatest of all truths are the most cjuickening. And to nothing so much as to the obscurity that eclipses them, is the low standard of the Christian AVorld to be traced. Again is it asked, why I am so anxious to declare these views of human nature now? I answer, I prize these views because they confirm my faith in Jesus Christ, and give reality to the great hojie that Christianity sets before us. Jesus came, as he taught us, to create men after the likeness of God, to breathe into men a divine virtue, and to prepare them for the heavenly life. 'I'he sceptic derides this good as unreal, because wanting in adaiitation to our nature. But I look into human nature and cannot but feel that a being made for such a destiny, as Christianity reveals, must carry within him tokens presignifying his end. It is a joyful confirmation of my faith, then, to find in the human soul plain signatures of a Divine Principle, to find faculties allied to the attributes of God, faculties beginning to unfold into God’s image, and [iresages of an immortal life. Another jiractical use of the views now given of human nature is this. In proportion as they are received, they will transform essentially our modes of relationship, com- munication, and association with our fellow-beings. They will exalt us into a New Social Life. Indeed, they will give an entirely new character to social intercourse. That intercourse must be determined by the estimate we form of human nature. He who looks on man as little better than a brute will live with men as brutes. He will be wanting in reverence for their rights and feelings. He will think only of making them his instruments. He will be anxious chiefly to raise himself above them by outward distinctions. He will care little how they are trampled under foot. He will scoff at the thought of living and dying for their happiness. Society is now degraded through all its laws, institutions, and customs, by the blindness of men to the Divine Principle within them- .selves, and one another. Once diffuse this great truth through society, and it will work a mightier revolution than politicians ever dreamed of. It will ennoble all social duties. It will give sanctity to all social relations. It will breathe a deference and tender respect through manners, which will put to shame what now passes for courtesy. It will bring an end to that outward, ostenta- tious, superficial life, on which so many squander time, means, thought, and their best powers. It will awake an intense effort for distressed humanity. It will send far and wide a spirit of reform, from the nursery to the hall THE UNIVERSAL FATHER. II ot legislation. It will substitute the holy tie of Human Brotherhood for all artificial bonds of social order. With this great truth in his heart a man cannot insult a fellow- man, for he beholds the Divine in the Human. He can call no being low in whom his own highest powers and affections are wrapped up. Can you conceive then of a truth so practical as this doctrine of the greatness of man as a moral being? It will create a New Earth. And, finally, to speak of its highest use, how would this doctrine, brought home to the heart, transform our fellow- ship with God! Time is wanting to unfold this great subject now. It has never as yet been fitly unfolded. For want of an enlightened conviction of man’s participa- tion in a Divine Principle, religion in all ages has sunk more or less into superstition. It has bowed down to spirits which it ought to have uplifted. It has been deemed a means of propitiating a Higher Power, instead of being regarded as the ascent of the Soul to its Original, as the Divine in man seeking the Supreme Divinity, as a homage changing us into the Goodness we adore, and strengthening our disinterested love of fellow- beings with a Celestial Life. How earnestly to be desired is it, that religion should be thus raised from selfish super- stition into generous Communion with God ! And never can it attain to this its true glory, till man shall better comprehend himself as a Child of God, and the filial rela- tionship, inherent in his very nature, between himself and the Father of Spirits. My friends, how little do we know ourselves! How unjust are we to ourselves! We study everything else but the Divine Principle within our own Persons. The truth may be on our lips. But in how few hearts does it live! We need a New Revelation — not of Heaven or of Hell— but of the Spirit within ourselve.s. THE UNIVERSAL EATHER. Romans iii. 29: “ Is He the God of the Jews only? Is He not also of the Gentiles? Yes, of the Gentiles also.” The writings of the Apostle Paul have met with a singular fate. They were intended to reveal the Father’s universal and impartial love; and they have been used to represent Him as an exclusive and arbitrary Sovereign. They were designed to open the Kingdom of God to all men; and they have been so distorted as to shut it on the many and confine it to the few. They breathe the most liberal spirit; and yet from them have been drawn the main arguments for intolerant bigotry. Nothing stranger ever happened in the history of human thought. From Paul, the grand teacher of Divine Grace and Mercy, wLo lived to break down the barriers between Jew and Gentile, and to unite the Human Race in brotherly love, have been derived the mournful dogmas — that God elects a certain number to salvation, and dooms the rest to everlasting woe; that the reception of an unintelligible creed is essential to man’s redemption, and that they who hold this are authorised to denounce all who reject it, as enemies of God and as unworthy of a place in the Church of Christ. From the history of Paul’s Epistles, we learn how fatal it is to substitute the letter for the spirit of Divine Revela- tion, and how dangerous it is to read the Scriptures, without carrying into their interpretation our Reason, and the light of Conscience. They have not been studied with the common intelligence and candour, which men carry to the perusal of other writings. And hence the free, bold language of the Apostle has been perverted from its original significance and made to sup- port a system which reason and conscience revolt from, and which transforms Christianity from the Gospel of glad tidings into the saddest message ever preached. The great design of Paul’s Epistles was to vindicate the spiritual right of the Human Race against the ex- clusive bigotry of the Jews; to manifest God as the Father of all men, and to teach that He did not shut Himself up in the land of Judea or the temple of Jerusalem; that Jesus Christ came to save not one narrow nation but the whole world; that the Kingdom of Heaven, the infinite ble.ssings of the Gospel, were opened with boundless j freedom to Humanity universally. This is the great 1 “ Mystery,” or in other words, the long-hidden purpose of God, of which Paul speaks in such magnificent lan- i guage. By this “Mystery” he meant no unintelligible dogma, but God’s merciful design, concealed from the I ages, “ to gather together in One ” the whole Human Family under Jesus Christ, to break down all divisions between nations and classes, and to unite men of every kindred and condition in one Spiritual Worship of the Universal Father. Take with you this great truth, and you have the key to Paul’s writings. Without it, the rich treasures of that noble teacher will be a sealed book. In our text we have the central idea of Paul’s Epistles. I shall first offer some remarks on the doctrine that God is “ the God of the Gentiles,” chiefly to strengthen our convictions of its truth ; then, in the second place, I shall consider the universal principle contained in this doctrine; and, thirdly, I shall apply this principle to our times ancl our own moral needs. I. — God is “the God of the Gentiles.” To under- stand the full importance of this sentence of Paul, we ought to consider the circumstances under which he wrote it. This proposition, which in our own days seems too trite to draw attention, manifested at that time an admirable generosity of soul. To the Jew, the Gentiles were odious. He thought it pollution to eat with them. He called them dogs. He was brought up in an anti- pathy towards the heathen world, for which we can find no parallel. He claimed God as exclusively his God. In all the sufferings of his people he was consoled by their peculiar relation to the Divine Being, by their supreme religious exaltation above the rest of mankind. And he lived in the hope of a swift coming day, in which the Messiah was to avenge their wrongs, and to bow all nations at their feet. For a Jew to renounce this deeply- rooted and almost ineradicable pride, to come down from his height of vain-glory and take his stand among the despised and execrated Gentiles, to embrace them as brothers and assert their equal claim to God’s love and the blessings of the Messiah’s kingdom — this was an inward revolution, a triumph over passion, prejudice and education, such as we now can hardly estimate. Could THE UNIVERSAL EATHER. 1 2 we fully comprehend it, we should be filled with admira- ] tion for the moral grandeur manifested in the simple words of our text. Paul, in writing them, not only offered violence to all his earliest and deepest impressions, but put his life in peril. Such was the shock given by his language to the pride and passion of his people, that they thirsted for his blood, and wherever he travelled pursued | him with murderous intent. So stirring were the words , which we read with little emotion. I begin, as proposed, with offering a few remarks upon this doctrine, for the end of deepening our conviction of its truth. 1. God is “the God of the Gentiles,” says Paul; and do we not respond to this truth? The heathen nations had indeed wandered far from God; and to the Jews He , seemed to have forsaken them utterly. Put it was not | so. The Universal Father was always in the deepest sense their God. How could he forsake the millions of | H is creatures spread over the face of the earth? Judea was but a speck on the globe. Its temple was a jjoint too small to be caught by the eye of the si)ectator, but a few miles off. Was the Infinite One to be confined to this narrow space? Could His love be stinted to the few, to whom He had specially revealed his Will? In the very darkest ages God was “the God of the Gentiles.” Though unknown. He was always near, and never ceased to work within them. The heathen had their Revelation. Tight from Heaven descended into their souls. 'I’hey had the Divine Law “written in their hearts.” God shone within them under the ideas of justice, goodness, and duty. No nation has been found, however sunk and degraded, on which these lights have not dawned. 'The rudest savage discerns some distinction between right and wrong, the just and the unjust, the selfish and the kind. In every human soul there is a voice that whispers of the right, a reprover that strikes awe and awakens compunction, a prophet and judge that points, however indistinctly, to final retribution, a con.science that, how- ever resisted, cannot be wholly silenced. In the rudest tribes we find some recognition of a Higher Power, some glimpse of a Future Life. And in all these ideas we see God working in the soul, for its redemjrtion. Nor must we doubt that in the most corruj^t nations He has met with loving homage and obedience, on which He has looked with parental favour. The Father has had many a temple in hearts which never knew His name. God keep us from the horrible thought, that the myriads who are buried in heathen darkness are outcast from His love 1 'Lheir spiritual wants should indeed move our compassion; and the higher light is given us that we may send it to these brethren. But Brethren they still are. And they share largely and freely, as we do, in the love of the Father. Never does He leave Himself without a witness. 2. That God is “the God of the Gentiles,” we learn from the wonderful progress which human nature made in heathen ages. Remember Greece — that land of heroes, poets, sages! God’s gift of Genius — one form of Inspiration — was showered down on that small terri- tory, as on no other region under heaven. To Greece was given the Revelation of Beauty, which has conferred upon her literature and works of art an imperishable charm, and made them, next to the Holy Scriptures, the most precious legacy of past ages. In that wonderful country we meet not only genius and triumphs of the intellect, but amidst degrading vices were manifested sublimest virtues. Socrates, choosing to die rather than refrain from declaring the truth which God had given him for his peojrle, was a type of the grand victim to truth and humanity, who in Palestine was to enlighten and save future ages. Undoubtedly, Grecian philosophy was an imperfect intellectual guide, and impotent as a moral teacher. It often confounded God and Nature, speculated about immortality rather than believed it, and in some schools rushed into utter scepticism. Above all, it had no quickening voice for the mass of men. It gleamed on a few high peaks, and left the peopled valleys without a ray. But was not God the God of the Gentiles, when He awakened in the Greeks such noble faculties of reason, impelled them to such grand works of art, and by their patriotic heroism and peerless genius carried so far forward the Education of the Human Race? 3. God is “the God of the Gentiles;” and He was so just when He seemed to have forsaken them, by separat- ing from them His chosen people. For why was the Jew set apart from the rest of mankind? Why was the broad line drawn between him and the other children of men? From a spirit of favouritism? From partiality to one family above all others? So dreamed the Jew. But nothing was further from the truth. The grand purpose of Providence, in bestowing special s])iritual favour on this ireojjle, was to prepare the way for the communica- tion of an infinite good to the Human Race. Abraham was called that in his seed all families of the earth might be blessed. Moses was the pioneer of Jesu.s. Judaism was a normal school to train up teachers for the whole world. 'The Hebrew pro})hct was inspired to announce an age of universal light, when the knowledge of God was to cover the earth as the waters cover the sea. Nothing in the history of the Jewish people shows them to us as God’s personal favourites. On the contrary, their history is a record of Divine rebukes, threatenings, and ]runishments. Their very privileges brought on them peculiar woes. Their distinction was a fearful one. In ages of universal idolatry, they were called to hold forth the light of pure Theism, and the worship of One God. Unequal to this Spirituality, they continually fell from their allegiance, betrayed their trust, and drew down judgments terrible as were ever inflicted upon a nation. At length when the time came, for which all ]rrcceding ages had been the forerunners — the time when the “ partition wall ” between the chosen peoifie and the whole human family was to be prostrated, and the Jews were to receive the Gentile world into brotherhood — they shrank from their glorious task; and, rejecting mankind, they became themselves the rejected of God. Their past distinction .served but as the occasion for their ruin, by the proud and exclusive spirit that it had roused. Their temjjle, which they had refused to open to the nations, sank into a heaf) of ruins. And for ages they have been a scattered, despised, hated, spoiled, and persecuted tribe. Meanwhile, faith in One True God, of which they were unconscious heralds and prophets, has been spread far and wide throughout the Gentile world. Thus we see that, in the very act of selecting the Jew, the Universal Father was proving Himself to be the God of the heathen, even when He seemed to reject them. 4. This doctrine of God’s love to His heathen offspring is one which we Christians still need to learn. For we, too, are apt, like the Jew, to exalt ourselves above our less favoured brethren. It is the doctrine of the mass of Christians, even now, that the heathen are the objects of God’s wrath. All who live and die beyond the sound of the Gospel, it is thought, are doomed to endless perdition. THE UNIVERSAL FATHER. 13 On this ground indeed it is that most missionary enter- prises rest. We are called upon to send the Gospel where it is not preached, because men conceive that beyond the borders of Christendom God is an implacable Judge; because no other parts of the earth are believed to hold communication with heaven; because it is feared that the human being, whose fate it is to be born a heathen, carries to the grave an inherited curse, that will never be repealed. Well do I remember the shock once received from reading a missionary address, in which the speaker computed the thousands of the heathen world who would die during the few hours of the meeting; and he asked his hearers to listen in thought to their shrieks as they descended into hell. But how can a sane man credit, for an instant, that the vastly greater portion of the human race is abandoned by God? If Christianity did actually thus represent the Character of God, we might well ask what right we have to hold or to diffuse such a religion. For among all the false gods of Heathenism can one be found more unrighteous and more cruel than the Deity, whom such a system offers as an object for our worship? But the Christian Religion nowhere teaches this horrible faith. And still more, no man in his heart does or can believe such an appalling doctrine. Utter it in words men may; but human nature forbids them to give it inward assent. Were the Christians, who profess it, deliberately to consider what such a doctrine means, and bring it home to themselves as a reality — could they distinctly once conceive that every hour, by day and night, thousands of their fellow-beings are plunged by the never- ceasing anger of God into an abyss of endless woe — how could they endure even to exist? They would look on this world as a hell, and long to escape from the sway of its merciless despot. No! The human heart is a far better teacher than these gloomy systems of theology. In its secret depth it believes, what perhaps it dares not put into words, in God’s Impartial, Equitable, Universal, and Parental Love. II. — In the second place, I now proceed to declare the doctrine of our text in its most universal form. We read Scripture to little profit, if in passages relating to local or temporary events, we do not discover Universal Truths, equally applicable to all places and times. The language of the text admits of a spiritual translation. It contains an immutable truth for all ages. This truth is that God loves equally all human beings, of all ranks, nations, con- ditions, and characters; that the Father has no favourites, and makes no selections; that, in His very being. He is Impartial and Universal Love. This is the fundamental Truth of the Christian Religion, entering into and glori- fying all its other truths. Let us glance at a few of its evidences, as given in the Natural and the Spiritual U niverse. I. This grand Truth of God’s universal and impartial love is taught clearly in Nature, by all the w'orks of the Creator. And this testimony is of great worth. Lor God’s Works are of the same authority with His Word. These are His Tw'o voices, which are, and must for ever be, perfectly harmonious. And we should distrust all interpretations of the Scriptures w'hich disagree with the truths derived from the Universe. The Universe teaches that God is the God of all, and not of the few. When you look through nature, what mark of a partial Deity can you discover? Does nature teach the favouritism of her Author? The central truth of the Universe is, that God governs by general laws, which bear alike on all beings, and are plainly instituted for the good of all. We are placed under one equitable system, which is adminis- tered w'ith inflexible impartiality. Not a blessing reaches any one of us but by ordinances which provide for all fellow-creatures. This glorious sun, does he not send as glad a ray into the hovel as into the palace? Does he not glorify the same spectacle for every eye? The few opulent may monopolise, indeed, a human artist’s works — may inclose his pictures in their galleries, and shut them out from common gaze. But what are the pictures of all artists combined when compared with the majestic beauty of these serene skie.s, these golden or gloomy clouds, these ample prospects of earth and sea, which Providence paints each day anew with living colours, and spreads out in harmonious proportions before all His children’s eyes! Does the rain fall upon a few favoured fields; or does the sap refuse to circulate except through the flowers and trees of a certain tribe? Some men, indeed, may prosper above their fellows. But it is by turning to account the great laws which are acting for the benefit of others, as well as for themselves. The farmer who grows the best wheat on the most fertilised soils, owes his success to no partial bounty, but to his study of seeds and composts, and to his obedience to those laws of cultivation which all may apply. Nature is impartial in her smiles. She is impartial also in her frowns. Who can escape her tem- pests, earthquakes, and destructive powers? For whom does she still the raging waves? Young and old, the good and evil, are wrapped in the same destroying flame, or plunged in the same overwhelming sea. Age and infirmity spare no privileged class. We may spend our treasures in rearing walls against malaria and pestilence. But Providence has no favourites. Pain, disease, and death break through the barriers of the strong and rich, as well as of the humble and the poor. Still more do the awful natural catastrophes, which are interpreted by superstitious fear into expressions of peculiar wrath, fall without distinction. Thus, in a word, the lesson of the Universe is God’s Impartiality. He has One Law, One Love, for all. 2. I have called nature to testify that God is the God of all. But outward nature is not God’s highest manifes- tation. In religion the Universal Father is revealed as working in the Human soul, and as imparting to man His own Spirit. And is this spiritual agency of God capri- ciously confined? Are any human beings excluded from its influence? God’s Spirit, like Himself, knows no bounds. There is no soul to which He does not speak, no human abode into which He does not enter with His best gifts. Especially do the histories of distinguished saints, philanthropists, and men of genius disprove the notion of a local or partial agency of God’s Spirit. From the huts of the poor, from the very haunts of vice, from the stir of active business, as well as from the stillness of retired life, have come forth the men, who, replenished with spiritual gifts, have been the guides, comforters, lights, regenerators of the world. It was from a fishing boat on the small sea of Galilee that God’s most effectual ministers of universal religion were called. Those humble voices are now listened to reverently in the schools, churches, and palaces of all civilised Christendom. Nor was this a singular case. We have here but an illustration of a Universal Law. We learn from it that God is work- ing on human souls in all times and places, and that men in every lot and sphere receive His Inspiration. At this moment we have a striking example of this fact in the 14 THE UNIVERSAL FATHER. great reform that is stirring our whole nation.* Who now are the most awakening preachers of Temperance in our country? Not ministers of religion, not they who never ran into excess. From the very sinks of intemperance, from shops reeking with vapours of intoxicating drink, has God raised up witnesses against this vice. Lips, from which yesterday drunkenness sent forth oaths, like blasts from hell, now entreat the wanderer to return to virtue. Bloated countenances, on which excess once effaced the lines of humanity, are now radiant with kind sympathies, as they, who but lately were reeling sots, win back old companions from the way to ruin and disgraceful death. Is God’s Spirit, then, confined to the habitations of the refined and respectable, the well-ordered and sober? Can we not see how He enters the lowest haunts of guilt and shame, and there finds ministers of truth and sanctity? III. — Having briefly considered these plain but decisive proofs of God’s Impartial and Universal Love, I proceed to make an application of this Principle to ourselves. We do not need the doctrine for the particular purpose for which Paul used it. But other distinctions between men remain, distinctions of outward rank and condition, of nation and colour, of character and culture, on the ground of which men separate themselves from one another. What a strangeness, coldness, reserve, and hardness of heart, what self-exaltation and exclusiveness, grow out of trifling differences, which are designed by ( lod to create mutual dependence, and to bind us more (losely to one another! Time will permit me to dwell upon two only of these illustrations now. 1. Let me first ask, is God the Father of the rich only? Is He not also the Father of the poor? How incredibly men exaggerate the distinctions of outward condition. The prosperous are prone to feel as if they are of a different race from the destitute. But to the Possessor of Heaven and Earth, to whom the treasures of all worlds belong, how petty must be the highest m.rgnificence and affluence! PJoes the Infinite Spirit select as His special abode the palace with its splendid saloons, rich tapestries, loaded tables, and blazing lamps? Does He fly from the hut with its rugged walls and earthen floor, its cry of half- famished childhood, its wearing cares, and ill-requited toil? On the contrary’, if God has a chosen spot on earth, is it not the humble dwelling of patient, unrepining, trustful, virtuous poverty? From the dwellings of the downcast, from the stern discipline of narrow circum- stances, how many of earth’s noblest spirits have grown up! Voices, which have shaken nations, have in infancy not seldom asked alms. Men of genius, whose works have filled the earth with light, have owed their training to the kindness of strangers, and their early life has been a forlorn struggle for bare existence. But why enlarge upon what countless biographies of the greatest saints, scholars, joets, statesmen, philanthropists, attest? Bring it to a supreme proof. When God sent His Beloved Son into the world, did he summon Architects and Artists to rear for hi n a splendid palace? May we not still learn a lesson of Divine Wisdom from the manger at Bethlehem? We celebrate this incident of the Birth of Jesus in our churches. Poets sing of it. Painters illustrate it. But do we recall it when we meet the beggar in the streets, or pass the hovel with its patched windows, leaking roof, and smoky walls? 2. Once more I ask, is God the God of the good only, or is He not also the God of the wicked? God indeed * The Washington Temperance Movement. looks, we may believe, with peculiar approval on the holy, upright, and disinterested. But He does not desire spiritual perfection and eternal hapi)iness for them more than He does for the most depraved. The Scriptures even seem to represent God as peculiarly interested in the evil. Jesus illustrates God’s love to the fallen by the parable of the shepherd, who, having a hundred sheep and losing one, leaves the ninety and nine, to go after that which is lost, and he adds: “ There is more joy in Heaven over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety- nine just persons that need no repentance.” The good do not and ought not to absorb God’s love. For the evil have within them equal capacities of goodness. In all men lies, however hidden, an infinitely precious germ of love and holiness waiting to be quickened. And to the all-seeing eye this is never lost. It calls forth unutterable love. Yes ! God loves the most evil. We in our con- ceited purity may withdraw from them, may think it pollution to touch them, may say; “Stand off.” But God says to His outcast child: “Come near.” Do I speak to those who have escaped gross vice? Bless God for your happiness. Rejoice in the propitious circumstances, which have conspired for your safety. But do not feel as if God were exclusively your God. Set up no insuperable barrier between yourself and the fallen. Even if you are inwardly as well as outwardly pure; if you are restrained from self-indulgence, not by external motives, such as custom, opinion and interest, but by deep abhorrence of evil, do not imagine yourselves peculiarly favourites of God. Who of us can claim such peculiar favour on the ground of unsullied virtues? How many wavering steps can we retrace in our past lives, how many lapses, how many wanderings, how many falls ! Can we remember no critical moments, when what is called chance determined our characters and conduct, when, if oppor- tunity had seconded our will, we too might have joined the outcast? Do you not feel that you owe what you are to the grace of God, which bore with your freciuent frailties, to the inward reproofs of His Spirit, to the warn- ing voice of friends whom His Providence placed around your path, to events which startled you into reflection, to holy thoughts and subduing suggestions, which were breathed upon your soul you knew not whence? Who can review his own history, and fail to ascribe his salvation to the mercy of God? What sincere man does not feel himself bound by a common experience and a common nature to the reform of his race? A truly good man will indeed know that he is good, will i)ractice no deception upon himself, will be conscious of his progress, and grate- ful for it. But he will find that he has become what he is by reliance upon God’s Infinite Goodwill. He will not indulge in a self-exalting persuasion of his superiority. He knows that he has risen by leaning upon a Higher Power than his own. He knows how, midst a thousand misgivings, in moments of self-reproach and compunction, he was upheld by confidence in that free love of God, which never forsakes the most unworthy. This great truth, that God’s parental love extends even to the worth- less, is the strength of the good man from the beginning of his conflicts with evil to the end. Through his own victories he learns to hope for like triumphs in the most erring. His virtue, regarded thus as God’s work carried on amidst much imperfection, becomes a bond of union with the vicious. His own spiritual history proves to him that there is a vital energy in the human soul, which vice, however it may deaden, cannot destroy. He despairs of THE UNIVERSAL FATHER. 15 none. He commits all to the love of the Universal Father. To him God is not the God of the good only, but also of the evil. In speaking thus of the tenderness due to the evil, I have no desire to extenuate guilt, or to break down the distinction between virtue and vice. The distinction is real. We must never confound him who acts from principle with one who is enslaved by passion. That false courtesy, which treats all alike, is treachery to God. We ought to look on the base with indignation. But indignation may be blended with an earnest desire to recover the wrong-doer. This union of stern rebuke with tenderness we know to be possible, for we experience it towards our children, relatives, and friends, when they go astray. We ought to detest vice, whether in ourselves or in those most dear to us. But as we love ourselves while reproving ourselves most bitterly, so should we love our erring fellow-creatures, whilst we frown upon and firmly oppose their sins. Indeed, the only true love for the bad is that which abhors their corruption, and seeks to arouse in them a like abhorrence. Love can pierce the con- science like a two-edged sword. No violence of anger is so awful as the calm rebuke of love. The tenderness, that apologises for wickedness, is among the worst forms of cruelty. Whilst God looks on the evil with never- failing compassion, and desires their recovery to virtue, He sends appalling judgments on the impenitent. And, in our sphere, we are to feel and to express the same irreconcilable hatred against all wrong-doing. I plead for no sickly lenity towards the fallen in guilt. I would not disarm the judge seated in each man’s breast. This inward oracle seldom pronounces too severe a sentence upon a crime. We spare ourselves and others too readily. The true tone of indignant virtue is rarely heard in this compromising world. Conscience must never be silenced. Still the most evil are not forsaken by God. He is for ever their Father, and they are His immortal children. For ever He welcomes them to return to their loyalty, that they may become angels of purity and light. This truth let us never forget. No measure of wickedness should estrange us from our fellows or sever the tie of humanity. Never must we harden our hearts against our brethren, however debased. For their repentance and restoration we should earnestly pray and strive, and should rejoice to pour upon them every spiritual aid, encourage- ment, and consolation. Thus have I sought to illustrate by these two applications the Universal and Impartial Love of God. And now, in closing, let us ask ourselves distinctly, what was the guilt of the Jews, against which the Apostle so earnestly protested? What was it that levelled their temple to the dust, turned Jerusalem into aheap of ruins, and scattered their nation like chaff throughout the earth? It was their proud separation of themselves from their Race. Their crime was their claim to God’s exclusive favour, their unwillingness to receive their fellow-men to equal privileges, their denial of God’s impartial love to all His children. And will not the same spirit bring the same ruin upon us? Separation of ourselves from our race is spiritual death. It is like cutting off a member from the body; the severed limb must perish. No matter what separates us from our fellows — whether it be rank, wealth, culture, genius, or even virtue — if our good qualities or our good deeds cut us off from sympathy with our race, they become our ruin. Nothing is so odious in God’s sight as that pride, that presumptuous spirit of distinction, that haughty looking-down upon others, which leads men to magnify what is peculiar in their condition, intellect, or character, and to erect this into a barrier between themselves and mankind. Jesus detested and condemned no quality in His countrymen so severely, as he did this separating pride. Even the grossest excesses of sensuality shocked him less than the spirit of the Pharisee. The spirit of the Pharisee still survives in a thousand forms. It is the spirit that, on the ground of some special advantage, whether of outward gain or inward acquirement, says to the less privileged: “Stand apart.” Christianity calls upon us to recognise in all men the same Immortal Principle, the same germ of Divinity, the same Image of God. This spirit of Universal Humanity is the very soul of our religion. As yet its heavenly power is scarcely felt. Therefore it is that so few of the blessings of Christianity appear in Christendom. Alas, we lack humanity. We talk of it, we profess it, but we contradict its essential principles in character and in life. We rear partition walls of distinction between ourselves and fellow-beings. We exaggerate petty differences. We hedge ourselves round with conventional usages. Nor can we, if we would, without severe struggle, break through these obstructions to universal love. Our habits, our established modes of thought and action, the manners and fashions of society, all hem us in. Unconsciously and perpetually we violate man’s highest right, the right to be regarded and treated as a Child of God. Man’s noblest Relation- ship is practically denied. The grand light, in which this tie ought to be viewed, has hardly even dawned upon us. What a regeneration it will be throughout all society, when men learn fully to believe in their Spiritual Rela- tionship to One Heavenly Father! We hold this truth in words. Who feels its vitalising power? When brought home as a reality in social life, it will transform the world. Then will the New Heaven and the New Earth be created. Then will our race become a peaceful and blessed Family, a Temple of true Filial Worshippers. All other reforms of society are superficial. Until men’s eyes shall be purged to discern in one another, even in the most degraded and fallen, a ray of the Divinity, a reflection of God’s image, a moral and a spiritual nature within which God works, and to which He proffers heavenly grace and immortal life; until they shall thus recognise and reverence the Eternal Eather in all His human Children, the true bond of Communion will be wanting between man and man, and between man and God. Till then, und»r all forms of law and courtesy, will lurk distrust and discord, infusing pride, jealousy, and hate into the indi- vidual heart, into domestic life, into the intercourse of neighbourhoods, into the policy of nations, and turning this fair earth into the likeness of hell. But a better day is coming. The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. A purer Christianity, however slowly, is to take the place of that which bears but its name. Cannot we become the heralds of this better day? Let our hearts bid it welcome ! Let our lives reveal its beauty and its power! THE FATHER’S LOVE FOR PERSONS. Luke xii. 7 : “ Even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.” How ought we to live with our Creator — as strangers or as children? How are we to worship Him — as a distant being or as near to us? What is His relation to us — that of a remote Sovereign, who takes no immediate and special care of individuals, or that of a Parent, who, whilst provident of his whole family, watches over every particular child? These are great questions, and, hapj^ily, our Religion answers them fully. However indistinct Nature’s teach- ings may be upon these points — however insufficient unassisted reason may be to establish the truth of a minute and constant Providence, extended to each single creature — however strong may be the appearances of a general order of the Universe, to which the interests of private individuals are sternly sacrificed — still, as Christians we are assured that God, in His government of the whole, does not forget the parts; that He is the Father of each, as well as of all intelligent beings. It is the Perfection of Wisdom — the distinction of an All-comprehensive Mind — to embrace at once the con- cerns of a vast community of beings and the interest of every single member, to conjoin the enlarged views of a Universal Sovereign with the minute insi)ection and tender care of a Father. And such is our God. He is the God of all, and yet He is 7ny God. At the same moment he pervades heaven and earth, taking charge of the sustenance, progress, and growing ha])piness of the unbounded creation, and He is present witli me, as intent upon my character, actions, wants, trials, joys, and hopes, as if I were the sole object of His love. This view of God we all have a deep interest in im- ])ressing on our minds. We must strive to combine, in our conception of Him, the thoughts of a Particular and a Universal Providence. On the one hand, we must not narrow His loving care, as if it were mindful of ourselves alone, nor think of Him only as doing us good, h'or this would be to rob Him of His Infinitude, and darken the splendour of His boundless beneficence. Such a view would make religion the nurse of selfishness, and convert our connection with the Supreme Being into one of self-interest. Never let us try to monopolise God. Never let us imagine that God exists only as administering to our individual w’ants. Never let us for an instant forget His relation to the Universe. Let us adore Him for the streams of bounty which flow’ unceasingly from the fountains of His life, to all His countless creatures. But on the other hand, beware lest in thus enlarging your views of the Infinite One, you lose your hold of the correlative truth — that though all beings of all w’orlds are His care, though His mind thus embraces the Universe, He is yet as mindful of you as if that Universe w’ere blotted out, and you alone survived to receive the plenitude of His care. God’s relation to you is not an exclusive one, but it is as close as if it were. Judge not of the Infinite Mind by your own. Because you, frail men, when you extend your care over a city, a community, or a nation, overlook the concerns of Individuals, through incapacity of comprehending in one view the vast and the minute, the w’hole and its particles, do not thence I imagine that the Infinite Spirit cannot be perpetually ! caring for you because He cares for the immense Com- , munity of Spirits. Never conceive that your actions are I overlooked and forgotten, because of the multiplicity of agents and beings who are to be guided and governed. I Never fear that your wants are forgotten, because the [ boundless Creation sends up a cry to its common Father, j and He has an infinite Family for whom to provide. I Never think that your characters are objects of little interest, because innumerable orders of beings of higher attainments and virtues attract the regards of this muni- ficent King. Were you His only creature alive. He could not think of you more constantly and tenderly, or be more displeased with your resistance to duty, or feel more joy in your fidelity to right, than He does now'. 'Phe human mind, ai)t to measure God by itself, has always found a difficulty in reconciling the tw’o views which have just been stated. Through this propensity it fell into Polytheism, or the worship of many gods. Want- ing a 1 )eity, who would watch over their particular j interests, and fearing that they would be overlooked by I the Father of all, men invented inferior divinities — gods for each i)articular country and nation; and still more, household gods — divinities for each particular dw’elling — that they might have some Superior Power beneath which to shelter their weaknes.s. Under Christianity even the same difficulty has been and still is felt. To this we must ascribe the exaltation of Saints into divinities in the Catholic Church. And among Protestants, not a few make the Universal Father a partial deity, and appropriate His blessings to their sect, as if fearing that they should lose a portion of His favour by supposing Him to be as gracious to all human beings as to themselves. I. —But there is no inconsistency in at once believing in God’s Particular Providence and in His Universal Providence. He may watch over All, and yet watch over Each, as if Each were All. There is a simple truth, which may help us to understand, that God does not intermit His attention to Individuals in consequence of His inspection of the Infinite AVhole. It is this. The individual is a living part of this living whole — vitally connected with it — acting upon it and reacted upon by it — receiving good and communicating good in return, in proportion to his growth and pow'er. From this consti- tution of the Universe it follows, that the whole ispreserved and perfected by the care of its parts. The General good is bound up in the Individual good. So that to superin- tend the one is to superintend the other; and the neglect of either w’ould be the neglect of both. What reason have I for considering myself as overlooked, because God has such an immense family to provide for? I belong to this family. I am bound to it by vital bonds. I am alw'ays exerting an influence upon it. I can hardly perform an act that is confined in its consequences to myself. Others are affected by w'hat I am, and say, and do. And these others have also their spheres of influence. So that a single act of mine may spread and spread, in widening circles, through a nation or humanity. Through my vice, I intensify the taint of vice throughout the Universe. Through my misery, I make multitudes sad. On the other hand, every development of my virtue makes THE FATHER'S LOVE FOR PERSONS. me an ampler blessing to my race. Every new truth that I gain makes me a brighter light to Humanity. I ought not then to imagine that God’s interest in me is diminished, because His interest is extended to endless hosts of Spirits. On the contrary, God must be more interested in me on this very account, because I influence others as well as myself. I am a living member of the great Family of All Souls; and I cannot improve or suffer myself, without diffusing good or evil around me through an ever-enlarging sphere. My hearer, you are not to think of yourself as neglected, because God has an innumerable company of children to care for. One of the methods by which He cares for these various children, is to make provision for your progress. The interests of others, as well as your own interests, require that the Universal Father should watch over your progress. For just so far as you are wise, disinterested and happy, you will become a universal blessing. Be not disheartened then by looking round on the immense Creation, and thinking that you are but one among millions ; for these millions have a living interest in each one. You as an individual cannot but spread good or evil indefinitely around you, and through succeeding generations. In these remarks we have seen, that from the intimate and vital connection between the Individual and the Community of Spirits, God in taking care of each person is taking care of the whole, and that there is a perfect harmony between the General and the Particular super- intendence of God. From the same vital connection of beings, I derive another encouraging view, leading to the same result. I learn from it that God’s attention to His whole Creation, far from withdrawing his regard from Me, is the very method whereby He is advancing my especial good. I am organically connected with the great Family of the Universal Parent. Plainly, then, it is for my happiness, that this Family should be watched over and should prosper. Suppose the Creator to abandon all around me, that He might bless me alone, should I be a gainer by such a monopoly of God’s care ? My happiness is manifestly bound up with and flows from the happiness of those around; and thus the Divine kindness to others is essentially kindness to myself. This is no theory; it is the fact confirmed by all experience. Every day we receive perpetual blessings from the pro- gress of our race. We are enlightened, refined, elevated, through the studies, discoveries, and arts of countless persons, whom we have never seen, and of whom Ave have never even heard. Daily we enjoy conveniences, pleasures, and means of health and culture, through advancements in science and art, made in the most distant regions. And in so far as we possess elevated, disinterested, and holy characters, or enlarged intelli- gence, have not these been cherished and encouraged by the examples, writings, deeds, and lives of far-spread fellow-beings, through all ages and nations ? How much would each of us assuredly be advanced in happiness, wisdom, virtue, were the community around us — were all the persons with whom we hold intercourse — more humane and more heavenly! Is God then neglecting us in His care of others? How could he bless us more effectually than by carrying forward the great Spiritual System, to which we belong, and of which we are living parts? We may well believe that so close and vital are the connections throughout God’s Universe — between this world of our and other worlds — that the Human Race is benefitted by the progress of all other Orders of W Beings. So that the Creator is providing for your happi- ness and virtue, in the care which He extends over the diverse systems of worlds around, and over the higher ranks of Spirits in the Heavens. This happiness we may, indeed we do, lose by vice — by a spirit of self-love — hostile alike to the Creator and to His creatures. But this will be our self-imposed doom. Such isolation will not come from neglect on the part of our Heavenly Father. For He designs to make us all blessed beings together, in a blessed universe. H. — Thus having seen how consistent is the doctrine of God’s care for the whole with the doctrine that He watches minutely over every Individual, let me now ask you to look at this doctrine more closely, in its practical applications. Consider what affecting ideas it invohes ! According to this truth, we are, each one of us, present to the mind of God. We are penetrated, each one of us, instant by instant, by His all-seeing eye; we are known, every single person of us, more interiorly by Him, than we are known to ourselves. Moment by moment, the Living God sustains us; and His own Life continually flows into us through His omnipotent good-will. Moment by moment. He intends and does us good; and no blessing comes to us without His immediate loving purpose. In fine, and above all, the Holy One never loses sight of our character and conduct. He is present to inspire sentiments, suggestions, motives, and to grant us aids and opportunities for spiritual growth. He witnesses and delights in our virtues. And He, too, Avitnesses and condemns every sin. Let us never be unmindful of this last view. Because God is alvAvays near, intending and doing us good, Ave must not imagine that His relation to us Avill secure our happiness, if we are unAvorthy in spirit and in life. It is true that nothing but good can come from God. But never let us forget that this very good may be turned into evil, through our perverseness. Let us remember — it is a solemn truth — that from our very nature our happiness is entrusted to our own keeping. We are endowed Avith that aAvful poAA'er of Free-Will, Avithout which virtue cannot be. For ourselves aa'c must determine, whether God’s gifts shall fulfil their end in promoting happiness, or whether they shall be turned into bitterness and AA'oe. There is not one blessing in existence, not even God’s choicest gift, Avhich may not through our neglect, abuse, and perversity become a source of misery. So that God’s connection Avith us, intimate as it is, is yet no pledge of happiness, Avithout our OAvn concurrence. Intimate and tender, beyond our highest conception,, is our Heavenly Father’s relationship to us! He is incessantly our creator and reneAver, our upholder and benefactor, our Avitness and judge. The connection of all other beings Avith us, when compared Avith this, is foreign and remote. The nearest friend, the most loving parent, is but a stranger to us, AA'hen contrasted with God. No AA'ords can adequately express this living alliance of the Creator Avith His creatures. Our bodies are less closely united with our minds, than is God Avith our inmost self. For the body may be severed from the soul Avithout AA'orking its destruction. But Avere God to forsake this thinking principle, it Avould instantly perish. Hoav near to me is my Creator ! I am not merely sur- rounded by His influence, as by this air Avhich I breathe. I am pervaded by His agency. He quickens my Avhole being. Through Him am I this instant thinking, feel- ing, and speaking. And knowing thus the intensity and c THE FATHER'S LOVE FOR PERSONS. c8 the extent of this relationship, how is it possible that I can forget Him! My hearers, I have thus turned your attention to this sublimely affecting subject of our vital connection with God, not for the purpose of awakening temporary fervour, but that we may feel the urgent duty of cherishing these convictions. If this truth becomes a reality to us, we sliall be conscious of having received a New Principle OK Life. The man, who has begun to understand, believe, and feel, that He, as a Person, is an object of por[)etual regard to the Infinite Creator, and that the Su[)reme Being takes a personal interest, not merely in his [iresent welfare, but in his everlasting progress, has attained to vastly higher regions of thought and emotion, tlian one who is aware only of his connection with the outward, mutable world, can even conceive of. ^\'ere a person, who had lived in ignorance of all beyond mere sensitive existence, suddenly to receive a clear impression of God’s all-embracing Presence, he would undergo a greater change of condition, than if he were to awake some morning in a wholly new world, peopled by new beings, clothed in new beauty, and governed by laws such as he had never known by experience. He would be uplifted with the assurance, that at length he had found for his soul an All-sufficing Object of veneration, gratitude, trust and lo^'e, an unfailing source of strength for every mortal weakness, an exhaustless refreshment of his higliest hope, an ever-springing fount of holy emotion, virtuous energy and heavenly joy, infinitely tran.scending all modes of good, to which lie had been wont to look. In a word, he would be utterly transformed. On the other hand, in degree as by faithlessness I lose sight of my intimate relationship with God, I am bereft of inward peace, of the desire for progress, of jiower to escape from myself. Tlie future grows dim, and ho])e dies. A change comes over me like that which befalls llie traveller, when clouds overspread the sky, when gathering mists obscure his path, and gloom settles down upon his uncertain way, till he is lost. The light of life is a constant consciousne.ss of Divine Fellowship. But we siiould not expect a sudden manifestation of the Infinite Gnc to our souls. Gradually we must attain to this serene trust in God’s all-protecting care, incessant mercy, and inspiring influence. The blessing will not be less real, because it comes upon us gently, according to our spiritual progress. I'here is no rest for our souls except in this ever-growing communion with the All- Perfect One. III. — How then can we attain to an abiding conscious- ness of living relationship with the Living God? How < an we reach the constant feeling that He is always with U.S, offering every aid consistent with our freedom, guiding us on to heavenly hajipiness, welcoming us into the immediate knowledge of His perfection, into a loving fellowship with Himself? Some one may say: “I am conscious of having thus far lived very much as if there were no God. My mind is dull, my heart is cold. How shall I awake to perceive, to feel, to love, to serve, to enjoy this Living God of whom you speak?” There is time for but a brief reply ; and I shall confine myself to what seems to be essential, as the first stej), in this approach to true Communion with the Father of Spirits. My belief is, that one chief means of acquiring a vivid sense of God’s Presence is to resist, instantly and reso- lutely, whatever we feel to be evil in our hearts and lives, and at once to begin in earnest to obey the Divine Will as it speaks in conscience. You say that you desire a new and nearer knowledge of your Creator. Let this thirst for a higher consciousness of the Infinite Being lead you to oppose whatever you feel to be at war with God’s Purity, God’s Truth, and God’s Righteousness. Just in iHOportion as you gain a victory over the evil of which )'ou have become aware in yourself, will your spiritual eye be purged for a brighter perception of the Holy One. And this in its turn will strengthen you for a yet more strenuous resistance of sin — which will pre- jiare you for still more intimate acquaintance with the Divine Nature and Character. This attainment to a knowledge of God and this instant resistance of Sin are most intimately and r itally related. Neither can advance beyond the other. For God, as the All-Good, can be known only through our own growing goodness. No man living in deliberate violation of his duty, in wilful disobedience to God’s commands as taught by conscience, can possibly make progress in acquaintance with the Supreme Being, ^ffiin are all acts of worship in church or in secret, vain are religious reading and conversation, without this instant fidelity. Unless you are willing to withstand the desire which the inward monitor, enlightened as it always is by this Divine Spirit, con- demns, you must, you will, remain a stranger to your Heavenly Iffither. Evil jiassions and sensual impulses darken the intellect and sear the heart. Especially important is it — indispensable indeed — that self-indul- gence and self-will shall be determinedly withstood. ^\’hile these enthrall us, never can we comprehend the true glory of God. For His Glory is Perfect Love. If we would have our souls become the temples of the Suiireme Being, filled with his light and joy and peace, we must utterly cast out the foul spirits which are at enmity with the Divine purity and disinterested- ness. Would you really know your Creator, would you become truly ])enctratcd with the consciousness of His Presence, would you become indeed alive to His Good- ness, then show your sincerity by beginning at once an unflagging warfare with that habit, that passion, that affection, be it what it may, which conscience this moment assures you is hostile to God’s Will. You need not go far to learn how you may gain more vivid views of God. 'Phe sin that now rises to memory as your bosom sin, let this first of all be withstood and mastered. Oppose it instantly by a detestation of it, by a firm will to conquer it, by reflection, by reason, and by prayer. Such a siiritual conflict, trifling though it may appear, will do more, than can all other influences combined, to fit you for a near, strong, affectionate intimacy with your God. And without such a struggle of your will — w'hich is but another name for Repentance — you can never draw' a step nearer to the All-Holy and All-True. He will always be to you a God afar off, wrapt in clouds of terror. Jt is customary to recommend reading the Bible, religious worship, meditation, as means of awakening religious sensibility, and they are all important as means. I would on no account disparage them. Use them all. But use them in connection with this primary obedience to con- science, this resolute resi.stance of your peculiar tempta- tions. For w’ithout this all other means of religious discipline will but mock you. They may generate a temporary fervour, and kindle an occasional flash of devout feeling. But such religious emotion will be but local and transient, sinking into gloom when you most TRUST IN THE LIVING GOD. 19 need its guiding light, never brightening to full day, nor filling the firmament of your soul with noontide peace. My friends, in this discourse I have spoken to you of the great Truth, that the Infinite God is for ever around and within each one of you; that our Heavenly Father is interested personally in each one of you; that the Author of the Universe is as near to you as your very life; that the Giver of all good is incessantly doing you good. By comprehending this Truth you can gain the means of a happiness, such as the whole world cannot give, and which no change in existence can take away. Incorporate it with your character. Let it call forth your love and trust in their intensest energy. And you will have found a resource, refuge, treasure, a fount of strength, courage, hope, and joy truly inexhaustible. Earnestly strive then to open your inmost souls to the influence of the Infinite Being, till you are filled with his fulness. Are there none here, in whom this touching truth of an Everlasting Father always and instantly sustaining and quickening, recreating and renewing us, lies dormant; to whom reason, conscience, nature, tradition, the words of Jesus, the calls of countless blessings, speak ineffectually to rouse their gratitude to the Almighty Friend, from whom all blessedness flows forth? One day such hardness of heart towards the “ Father of lights, from whom cometh down every good and perfect gift,” will appear to us, what it really is, as the heaviest guilt that a free and intelligent creature can contract. As you love your immortal souls, withstand its fatal sway. The doom it brings is spiritual death. Seek aid from Heaven instantly and for ever to subdue it. Let the Living God be supreme in your thoughts and hearts, as He is supreme in the universe. Consecrate to Him unreservedly the Spirits which He called into being, that He might make them perfectly one with Himself. TRUST IN THE LIVING GOD. I Timothy iv. 10: “We trust in the Living God.” Religious Trust is the subject of the present discourse. I shall consider first its Principle, and secondly the Good which it is authorised to propose as an End. And my aim will be to quicken this germ of Divine Life in every soul. 'Trust — Confidence — is an essential element of human nature. We begin life in a spirit of trust, and cling with confidence to our parents and the guardians of our infancy. As we, advance in years, though deceived and betrayed, we still must anchor our trust somewhere. We cannot live without some being to lean on as a friend. Universal distrust would turn social existence into torture. The most miserable man in the community is he, who finds none to confide in, who believes in no kindness around him, who detects nothing but selfish indifference, or hate, at home and abroad. This universal distrust is so unnatural, indeed, that it never prevails in a sound mind. It is the first stage of insanity, and if indulged ends in overturning the reason. We were born for confidence in other beings; and woe to him that cannot trust! Still confidence brings with it suffering; for all are imperfect and too many are false. 'There are none who do not sometimes disappoint us. How rare on earth is that constant fidelity, over which time and place exert no power. Almost every one is too intent on self and selfish interests, to be perfectly just or generous to those even who lean upon him most. When purest in purpose, our best friends, through want of judgment, heart, and will, confer but little of the good we long for. Trust never can find full repose, till it has found the Perfect Being, and expands under his unchanging Faithfulness into the sure hope of unbounded good. Observe what a harmony there is between our nature and God. 'The principle of Trust, as we have seen, enters into the very essence of the human soul. We live by it. And yet, confined to the society of fellow-beings, our confidence is continually mocked, and sometimes yields to heart-withering scepticism as to all human good-will. 'Trust seeks Perfect Goodness. Its natural I tendency is towards an Infinite and Immutable Being. In Him alone can it find rest. Our nature was made for God, as truly as the eye was made for the light of God's glorious image, the sun. There are two questions to which I particularly ask your attention; First, what is the Principle of Religious 'Trust? Secondly, what is the Good, for which we may trust in God? I. — In answering the first of these questions, I would observe, that Religious Confidence rests on God’s Paretilal Interest in Individual Persons. 'To appre- hend and believe this truth, is to plant the germ of 'Trust in God. This truth is not easily brought home to the heart, as a reality. Let me try and illustrate it. When we look round upon the Creation, what strikes us first is the Law of Succession among all orders of living beings. Plants and animals spring from others of their own kind; and, having unfolded their distinctive powers to a certain limit, pass away. The various Races continue, but the Individuals of each race come and go, appear a little while, and then vanish to make room for their successors. Man is subject to the same law. He is born, passes through graduated stages, grows to a certain limit of maturity, and then apparently declines and disappears. The first impression given to a superficial observer of the world is, that the Individual is of no great worth in the sight of the Creator. The Race of man is upheld, and seems to be destined to perpetual existence. But the Individuals, of whom it is composed, appear to have nothing enduring in their nature. They pass over the earth like shadows cast by a flying cloud, leaving for the most part as slight a trace behind. 'They break like meteors from the abyss, and are then swallowed up in darkness. There are indeed plain marks of kindness, in the laws of nature, under which they for a time exist. Many provisions are made for their enjoyment during their brief career. But the benevolence that gives them existence seems more intent on producing an endless Series of beings, each receiving but limited and imperfect good, than on raising the Individual to a substantial and 20 TRUST IN THE III TNG GOD. enduring felicity. According to this view, God is the Author of fugitive, mutable existences, from love of '•ariety, multiplicity, and development, however transitory these several existences may be. If we rest in such views of God, our Confidence must be faint. We may indeed hope, from His power and goodness, that the Human Race will continue, and still more that this Race will im- prove. But that God will take an enduring interest in Individuals, that Single Beings, out of this ever-changing multitude, will attain to exalted and imperishable good, we cannot trust. We cannot be confident that this or that Individual will on the whole enjoy its fair share of good ; for, whilst Nature is fruitful of provisions for the Human Race, yet multitudes of our fellow-beings are so far excluded from them as apparently to suffer far more than they enjoy. I'here are too many who stop at the superficial view of Divine Providence which has now been stated. And consequently they have no Trust in Him that deserves the name. They acknowledge Him indeed as the Author of the short-lived multitudes around them, and of the tran- sitory good that they enjoy. But His Paternal interest in Persons they do not comprehend. 'Phey judge of God from what they see; and that is only mutable and transient. The Race of man may seem indeed to them to be perpetual; but they see no promise of perpetuity for Individuals. Accordingly they have little or no con- fidence in God, for themselves or for others, regarded as I’ersons. But every individual mind is essentially greater than it .shows itself to be. No mind brings itself fully out in expression or action. On the contrary, what it says and does is but giving a sign of its inward power. When a man of genius produces some beautiful work of art or thought, or when a hero or philanthropist devotes himself to some grand enterprise, do you feel as if each particular effect were a measure of his spiritual energy? Does not one brilliant thought of a philosopher or poet reveal to you a Centre of intelligence, a living force of Will, which, far from being exhausted, must for ever radiate in new and brighter forms? Mind is not a power to be measured like material forces. Under new excitements every mind puts forth new faculties, not only undreamed of by others, but unknown to itself Now if this is true of each human mind, how can we believe that it is less true of the Divine Mind? Who, that beholds this immense Universe, can imagine that the Intelligence, which gave it birth, is spent, and that nothing is to be looked for from it, but effects pre- cisely similar to those which we now see? Survey the multiplied forms of life upon this earth, then lift your eyes to the heavens; and can you conceive that He, who framed and moves these countless worlds through bound- less space, in beneficent order, has no purpose beyond those which are unfolded to us, creatures of a day? Are we not surrounded by signs of an Infinite Mind, and may we not be sure that such a Mind must have unfathom- able counsels, and must intend to bestow unimagined good? Can we believe that Human Nature was framed by such a Being for no higher spiritual development than we now witness on this planet? Is there not, in the very incompleteness and mysteriousness of Man’s present existence, a proof that we do not as yet behold the End for which he is destined; that the Infinite Father has revealed but a minute portion of His Scheme of boundless mercy; that we may trust for infinitely richer manifesta- tions than we have experienced of His exhaustless grace? I have given one answer to the objection, that our Trust in God must be measured by what we now observe in the experience of mankind. I have said that, from the very natureof Mind, and especially of an Infinite Mind, we ought to expect immeasurably greater good than we actually behold. But there is another reply to the sceptic, and to this I invite your particular attention. Our Trust, you say, must be measured by what we see. Be it so. But take heed to see truly, and to understand what you do see. How rare is such exact and comprehensive per- ception. And yet without it, what presumption it is for us to undertake to judge the jnirposes of an Infinite and Ever-living God. Whatever creature we regard has actu- ally infinite connections with the Universe. It represents the everlasting past of which it is the effect. It bears signs of the endless future, towards which it tends and leads the way. He, then, who does not discern in the iwesent the Past and the Future, who does not detect behind the seen the Unseen, does not rightly understand it, and cannot pass judgment upon it. The surface of things, upon which your eye may fall, covers an Infinite Abyss. You understand this surface, only so far as you trace in it the signs of a mysterious Depth beneath. You say: “The Individuals of the human race are frail, fugi- tive beings, springing up, growing, passing away like the plant or brute; and how can we regard the Eternal God as deei)ly interested in such transitory creatures, or trust in Him as ])ledged to bestow on them an Everlasting Good?” Are you sure then that you com]rrehend the human being, when you speak of him as subjected to the same law of change and dissolution, which all other earthly existences obey? Is there nothing profounder in his nature than that which you catch sight of by a casual glance? Is there no quality that takes him out of the rank of the living creatures beneath him in the scale? Are there within him no elements which betoken a Per- manent and Enduring Existence? Consider one fact only. Among all outward changes is not every man conscious of his own Identity, of his continuing to be the same, single. Individual Person? Amidst the composition and decomposition of all sub- stances around him, does he not feel that the thinking, feeling, willing Principle within remains One, undivided and indivisible Essence? Is there not a Unity in the Soul, that distinguishes it from the dissoluble compounds of material nature? And further, is this Person made up of mutable and transitory elements? Is it a mere reflec- tion and image of the passing shows of earth and sky? Is it a mere echo to the sounds which vibrate and die away in an ever-moving creation? On the contrary, who does not know that he has faculties to seize upon Ever- lasting Truth, and affections which aspire to reach an Everlasting Good ? Have we not all of us the Idea of Right, of a Divine Law older than time, and which can never be repealed? Is there not a Voice within the con- science, that we feel to be not a passing sound, but the delegate of the Eternal and Almighty? Have we not conceptions of Immensity, within which all finite beings are embraced, of Absolute Being, over which no change has power? Have we not the Idea of One, who is the same to-day, yesterday, and for ever? Have we not capacities for attaching ourselves to this Infinite and Immutable Being, of adoring the All-Perfect, of loving the ineffably Good? Are we not all conscious of a Power above all powers of nature, of choosing and hold- ing to this Good through life and death, though all that TRUST IN THE LIVING GOD. 2 r is mightiest and most terrible in creation should conspire to sever us from it? Has such a being as man then no signs in his nature of Permanent Existence? Is he to be commingled with the fugitive forms of the material world? There is a wonderful passion, if I may so speak, in human nature for the Immutable and Unchangeable, that gives no slight indication of its own Immortality. Surrounded with constantly varying forms, the mind is always labouring to find, behind these transitory types, a fixed Reality, upon which it can rely. Amidst the incessant changes of Nature, it longs to discover some settled Law, to which all movements are subject, and which can never change. Indeed, the great work of science is amidst mutation to find this immutable, universal, and invariable Law. And what deep joy fills the mind of the philosopher, when, throughout apparently inextricable confusion, he can trace some great Principle, that governs all events, and that they all show forth! Man loves the Universal, the , Unchangeable, the Unitary. He meets bounds on every side; but these provoke, as it were, an inward energy, by which he scales and overleaps them. His physical frame fills but a few feet of space; and yet in thought he reaches forth to grasp and measure Immensity. He lives in moments, in mere wavelets of time; and yet he looks backwards and forwards into Eternity. Thus the very narrowness of his existence excites in him a thought of boundless and endless life. Can you cast a hasty glance, even, on such a being as this, and say that you see nothing but evidences of a transient career; that the Race may last, but that the Individual will be lost; that the fleeting generations of men find their best type in the vapours, which, exhaling from the ocean, gather into clouds for a moment, and then evaporate or fall in drops to the depth whence first they sprang? You argue, you say, from what you see. But you look on men, as the savage looks on some exquisite invention, of which scarcely one of its many uses dawns upon his mind, or as the child gazes upon some beautiful work of art. Seeing, you see not. What is most worth seeing in man, is hidden from your view. You know nothing of Man truly, till you discern in him traces of an Immutable and Immortal Nature, till you recognise somewhat allied to God in his Reason, Conscience, Love, and Will. Talk not of your know- ledge of men, picked up from the transient aspects of social life 1 With all your boasted knowledge of human nature, you have but skimmed its surface. Human Nature, in its distinctive principles, is to you as yet an unrevealed mystery. It is not then to be inferred, from what we see, that God does not take an interest in the Individual, and that He may not be trusted as designing great good for each particular Person. In every human mind He sees powers kindred to His own — the elements of angelic glory and happiness. These bind the Heavenly Father’s love indissolubly to every Single Soul. And these divine elements authorise a Trust utterly unlike that which springs from superficial views of man’s transitory existence. II. — Thus are we led to the second question that I proposed to consider ; What is the Good for which, as Individual Persons, we may trust in God ? One reply immediately offers itself. We may not, must not trust in Him for whatever good we may arbitrarily choose. Ex- perience gives us no warrant to plan such a future for ourselves, as mere natural affections and passions may crave, and to confide in God’s Parental Love as pledged to indulge such desires. Human life is made up of blighted hopes and disappointed efforts, caused by such delusive confidence. We cannot look to God even for escape from severest suffering. The laws of the Universe though in general so beneficent in their operation, still bring fearful evil to the Individual. For w’hat then may we trust in God ? I reply, that we may trust unhesi- tatingly, and without a moment’s wavering, that God desires the Perfection of our Nature, and that he will ahvays afford such ways and means to this great End, as to His Omniscience seem most in harmony with man’s moral freedom. There is but one True Good for a spiritual being, and this is found in its Perfection. Men are slow to see this truth ; and yet it is the key to God’s Providence, and to the mysteries of life. Look through the various ranks of existence, which fall beneath our observation, and is not the good of every creature determined by its peculiar Nature ; and does not the w'ell-being of each consist in its growth tow’ards its own special Type of perfection ? Now" how can man be happy but according to the same law' of grow'th in all his characteristic pow'ers ? Thus the enjoyment of the body is found to be dependent on and involved w’ith the free, healthy, and harmonious development — that is the Per- fection — of its organisation. Impair, or derange any organ, and existence becomes agony. Much more does the happiness of the Soul depend upon the free, healthy, and harmonious unfolding of all its faculties. Intellectual, Moral, Spiritual Perfection — or, in other w'ords, that life and energy of Reason, of Conscience, and of Will, w’hich brings our w'hole spiritual nature into harmony w’ith itself, with our fellow-beings, and with God — this alone deserves the name of Good. So teaches Christianity. For this religion has for its great end to redeem the soul from every disease, excess, infirmity, and sin, to re-establisii order among its complex powers, to enfold within it the principle of duty as its guiding law, and to develope it in the beauty of perfect rectitude and universal love. Now' for this Good, we may trust in God with utter confidence. WY may be assured that He is ready, w'illing, and anxious to confer it upon us ; that He is always inviting and leading us tow'ards it by His Providence, and by His Spirit, through all trials and vicissitudes, through all triumphs and blessings ; and that unless our own w'ill is utterly perverse, no power in the universe can deprive us of it. Such I say is the Good for which we may confide in God, the only Good for w'hich we are authorised to trust in Him. The Perfection of our Nature — God promises nothing else or less. We cannot confide in Him for prosperity, do what we will for success; for often He dis- appoints the most strenuous labours, and suddenly pro- strates the proudest pow’er. We cannot confide in Him for health, friends, honour, outward repose. Not a single worldly blessing is pledged to us. And this is well. God’s outw'ard gifts — mere shadows as they are of Happi- ness — soon pass away; and their transitoriness reveals, by contrast, the only True Good. Reason and conscience, if we will but hear their voice, assure us that all outward elevation, separate from inward nobleness, is a vain show;, that the most prosperous career, without growing health, of soul, is but a prolonged disease, a fitful fever of desire and passion, and rather death than life; that there is no stability of pow'er, no steadfast peace, but in immovable principles of right; that there is no true royalty but in the rule of our own spirits; no real freedom but in unbounded. 22 TRUST TV THE LIVING GOD. disinterested love; and no fulness of joy but in being alive to that Infinite Presence, Majesty, Goodness, in which we live and move and have our being. This Good of Perfection, if we will seek it, is as sure as God’s own Being. Here I fix my Confidence. When I look round me, I see nothing to trust in. On all sides are the surges of a restless ocean, and everywhere the traces of decay. But amidst this world of fugitive exist- ence, abides One Immortal Nature. It is the Human Soul — your soul — my soul — the soul of every human being. Entirely I trust that this is Immortal, because allied by god-like powers to the Father. This soul He created, as I believe, to become a glorious Image of Himself — to contend with and overcome all evil, to seek and receive evermore all good, to obey the eternal Law of Right, to which God’s own Will conforms. In God I trust for this Infinite Good. I know no other Good for which to trust Him. Take away this, and I have nothing, you have nothing, worth living for. Henceforth our existence is without an End; and the Universe itself seems to be but a waste of ])ower. Let not the sceptic point me to the i)resent low development of Human Nature, and ask me what pro- mise I see there of that higher condition of tlie Soul, for which I trust. Even were there no sufficient answer to this question, I should still trust. I must still believe that surely as there is a Perfect God, Perfection must be His End; and that, sooner or later, it must be impressed upon His highest work, the Sjjirit of Man. 'Phen I must believe that where He has given truly Divine Powers, He must have given them for development. I cannot believe that He has imparted conscience, only to be trampled upon by the appetites; that He has kindled reason and the desire for goodness, only to perish in dark des])air. But we are not left without another answer to objections drawn from the present low condition of the human race. Amidst its degradation, are there none who show the high End of God in human nature? Are there none in whom the spirit has conquered the flesh, in whom the divine principle of love has conquered self; none to whom the voice of duty is the clearest, most persuasive, and most commanding of all sounds; none to whom God is a glorious Reality, and who are strong, calm, and serenely bright in His deeply felt Presence? Are there none who loved, as Jesus loved, and who can suffer and die for their race as did the Beloved Son? There are such men. These are they who reveal to us the true End of our Nature, the Good to which we, one and all, are destined. Human nature is indeed at present in a very imperfect stage of its development. But I do not therefore dis- trust that Perfection is its End. For an end, from its very nature, is something to be attained through inferior degrees. We cannot begin with the end. We cannot argue that a being is not destined for a good, because he does not instantly reach it. We begin as children, and yet are created for maturity. So we begin life imperfect in our intellectual and moral powers, and yet are destined to wisdom and virtue. The philosopher, whose dis- coveries now dazzle us, could not once discern between his right hand and his left. And the energies of an adoring Seraph were once probably wrapped up in a germ, as humble as the mind of a human infant. We are to read God’s End in our inherent tendencies, not in our first attainments. With God-like capacities, it matters little what rank we hold at the outset, if only the spirit be awakened in us to fulfil its destiny. To him who has entered an interminable path, with impulses which are carrying him onward to perfection, of what importance is it where he first plants his step? The Future is all his own. But you will point me to those, who seem to be wanting in this spirit of Progress, this impulse towards Perfection, and who are sunk in sloth or guilt. And you will ask whether God’s purposes towards these are yet loving. I answer: Yes! They fail through no want of the kind designs of God. P'rom the very nature of Good- ness, it cannot be forced upon any creature by the Creator, nor can it be passively received. The individual Person must seek and strive for it himself, and must blame himself only, if it be not sought and found. Each of us should feel that our Creator is welcoming us to our Supreme Good, and is offering strength for its attainment. In every duty that God enjoins, He marks out the way to Perfection; in every rebuke of conscience He warns us to turn from the way of death. By change, disappoint- ment, affliction, bereavement. He seeks to win us from what is fugitive to the one true. Eternal End. The most fallen human being is summoned by an inward voice to repent; and he should trust in God, that if he will listen to this voice, he .shall be restored, strengthened, comforted, cheered with hope from the merciful Father, and raised from his degradation to an angel’s glory. What a sublime doctrine it is, that Goodness cherished now is Eternal life already entered on! What can be more cheering and ennobling, than the Trust that God appoints all changes as the means of a spiritual growtii which is never to cease; that He ordains our daily social relations, to nurture in us a love which at length is to embrace the Spiritual World; that He ordains trial to awaken the ])Ower of good-will, to which all obstacles are to yield, and which, in the progress of our being, is to accomplish miracles of beneficence, unimaginable here! What a haiquness it is, to feel assured that our education is going on perjjetually under a Father who is making all nature, all events of Providence, all society, teachers and insi)irers of truth and rectitude! What a blessedness it is to trust that we are to live for ever in this Boundless Universe of an Infinite God; that its deep mysteries are to be more and more revealed; that more beautiful and wonderful creations are everlastingly to open before us; that we are, through ages on age.s, to form closer and purer friendships throughout the vast P'amily of Souls, and to diffuse our sympathies through ever-widening spheres; that we are to approach God for ever by a brighter vision, and intenser love, a freer communion, and a larger participation of His Spirit and His Life! These assurances of Trust are no dream.s. They are sublime truths, manifested in our Nature, written in God’s Word, shining out in the character of the Beloved Son. No! They are not dreams. To each and all of us they may become glorious Realities. This is not a Confidence to be cherished by a select few. Each and all of us are invited to cherish such a Trust, and authorised by Our Father to regard this unutterable good as the End of our being! Thus have I spoken of religious Trust, in its Principle and its End. I have time to suggest but one motive for holding fast this Confidence as a fountain of spiritual strength. We talk of our weakness. We lack energy, we say, to be in life what in hope we desire. But this very weakness comes from want of Trust. What invigo- rates you to seek other forms of good? You believe LIFE A DIVINE GIFT. ^3 them to be really within your reach. What is the soul of all great enterprises? It is the confidence that they may be achieved. It was a maxim of heathen wisdom that all things are possible to him who feels them to be so. To confide in a high power is to partake of that power. It has often been observed, that the strength of an army is more than doubled by confidence in its chief. Confide, only confide, and you will be strong. You cannot conceive the mighty energy treasured up in living Trust. Put your Trust in your own Spiritual Being; put your Trust in the Living God. My friends, do we thus trust in God? Have we more than mere traditional acquiescence in the doctrine of the Divine Goodness? Do we rely on Him as really the Father of our Individual Spirits, as earnestly desiring our personal progress in an endless life? Do we vividly feel that He is near us as our everlasting Friend, to guide, cheer, and bless our aspirations and our efforts? And in this Confidence do we watch, pray, strive, press forward, and seek resolutely for ourselves and fellow-beings the highest end of existence, even the Perfection of our Immortal Souls? LIFE A DIVINE GIET. I Corinthians ii. 12: “ Xow we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the spirit which is of God; that we might know the things that are freely given to us of God.” No truth is more fitted to touch our hearts than the doctrine of our entire Dependence upon God as the Giver of Life. It sets before us a Goodness, from which countless blessings incessantly proceed, and a Power that can instantly withhold them. It implies the most tender and intimate relationship between ourselves and the Greatest of Beings. It impresses on every good of existence the character of a Gift. It awakens us to habitual thankfulness. It rebukes the hard heart, that lives unmindful of the all-sustaining Father. It utters remonstrance and warning against contempt of His gracious laws. It teaches that all other beings are as nothing to us, compared with this Infinite One, “who is above all and through all and in all.” And it summons us to cherish a devoted love for our Divine Benefactor, more ardent, and more constant, than to any other friend. This conviction of our Dependence, though so im- jiortant, does not spring up spontaneously and fix itself without effort in the mind. God does not intend that we shall come to Him by compulsion. We must watch over pious impressions, and cultivate them, or they will never become vigorous and enduring. There is, in the very constitution of the world, an important law, that is to a degree unfavourable to our consciousness of dependence. No doubt, among other purposes, it was intended to be a part of our discipline — a trial to call forth our vigilance. The law is this: — God has so formed us, that most of the Goods of life require on our part exertion to secure their attainment. Generally the rude material is given, and the means of fashioning it to our use; but without our co-agency, our enjoyment of nature is unspeakably lessened. The purpose of this arrangement is obvious. It has a tendency to call forth our faculties. Such a world is an admirable school for intellectual and active beings. Our powers of invention, our resolution, perse- verance, courage, enterprise, patience, energy are taxed to the utmost and grow’ by exertion. And thereby we receive a gratification far nobler than any passive pleasure can be — that of hope blended w’ith fruition. Most wise is this method of Providence. Let us be grateful for it. But exertion, and especially prosperous exertion, begets the consciousness of Power, and too often the notion of Independent Power. Surrounded by a visible creation, on which we act with success, we call ourselves its lords and forget its Creator and Upholder. Our owm will seems to work out our welfare. And selfishness magnifies our agency, till self-idolatry creeps in to poison all life’s blessings. There is one plain thought well suited to repress this pernicious working of pride. True, w’e do owe our enjoy- ments in a sense to our own efforts — that is, without exertion we should not gain them. But after all, how small a proportion of the work of promoting our hajipiness do we perform. How little of the good can w’e trace to our hands. We sow the seed, which another Power has created, into that earth, which another Power has spread around us. We add a little culture, and here we stop. But how much must intervene between this exertion and gathering the ripened fruit! How many suns must rise and set, how many dews and rains distil ! And what part in all these processes is due to our puny selves? Can our voice reach the clouds, and command one drop to fall on the parched earth ? Is it through our direction, that the root projects its tendrils through the soil — that the light stalk springs up — and the flower unfolds its beauty to the sun and .sheds its fragrance through the air? In like manner we hew from the forests, which were growing ere our birth, materials for our ships, and exult in our pro- sperous voyages. But does the sea with its tides and currents flow by our control? Are the winds our ministers? And do the products of other climes grow through our influence? Thus the present system is beautifully contrived to give a field for exertion, and yet to inculcate the lesson of dependence. Our ble.ssings come through our own labour; but they have connections so immense, and are influenced by causes so entirely removed from our guidance, that our dependence is taught in the very moment of overflowing triumph. 'I'his lesson is taught, however, only to those who are disposed to learn. God forces wisdom upon none. We may live, not recognising His Power, and idolising our own ; and thus turn our very effort into crime, and our blessings to a curse. My friends, how can I aid you in deepening this sense of Dependence? Let me enumerate a few of our best known blessings, to show the witness which they bear to a Higher Power than our own, for ever sustaining us. 1. — Health is a priceless blessing. It is often called the greatest of blessings; and we are told that without it life has no worth. This language is too strong. It has been my happiness to know those who, amidst infirmity and frequent illness, through force of intellect, and still more through religious principle, devout gratitude and 24 LIFE A JJ/IVA'E GIFT. trust, have found life a greater boon than the multitude of the strong and healthy ever dream of Still, Health is an inestimable good, and is essential to the full develo|)- ment and gratification of our powers, ^\■hen possessed without interruption, however, it is peculiarly apt to beget thoughtless presumption and proud self-confidence. Vet one may justly wonder how the healthiest even can for a moment forget the Giver of Life; for hardly a blessing can be named so little under our control as health. 'I’me, temperance and observance of sanitary laws undoubtedly may protract existence, if we consider human society on a large scale. But the individual has in his temiierance no pledge of safety. Health is the harmony, balance, and well-proportioned action of innumerable organs, fibres, nerves, muscles, blood-vessels, membranes, of which most men know comparatively nothing, And a casual derangement in some minute cell, which we cannot discern, and of which we never heard, may begin the work of destruction that will lay the strongest in his grave. A tiny nerve, so slightly wounded that the micro- scope cannot detect the injury, will rack the whole body with agony, ^\'ho of us can look within this complex frame, and discover the hrst faint flush of an inflammation that is soon to become a hectic burning on the cheek, and a consuming fire in the lungs ? \\'ho can trace out, in some subtle vessel uncon.sciously ruptured, the elements of disease and dissolution ? \\'e go forth exultant, and quicken our blood by the glow that health jjours through our limbs ; and yet we find, in the very freshness of the air, ordinarily so invigorating, a check of some vital func- tion, and date fatal illness from the chance breath of a north wind. And health is not the prey of these obvious risks only. | 'I'licre is something inexplicable in its subtle changes. Suddenly we sicken, we know not why or how. Languor ( reeps over us. ^\'e feel as a burden our common laliours. 'I'he relish for food, air, exercise, recreation, is blunted. Life loses its bright charm, and gradually declines by my.sterious decay. Does the sight of such sudden changes stir us up to new vigilance; and do we hope, by increased care, to escape the common danger? Then tliis very anxiety becomes a worse peril than those we seek to shun. Timidity as to our health not only may subject us,to imaginary illness, but bring on real disease. The hypochondriac, shrinking from every breeze, weighing his food, and fearing exhaustion from fatigue, loses all animation. And by flight he meets sooner the death he dreads. The continuance of health to beings so delicately and exquisitely framed, and j)lunged among so many sources of disease, is indeed a constant miracle. It ought to affect us deeply. A day, closed without suffering, should be to us an affecting witness of God's loving care. And we should wake each morning with something of the emotion that a new Gift of Life would call forth. It is really God who gives us health. To His Inflowing Energy we owe the vigorous muscle, the strong arm, the firm tread, d’hrough His all-quickening aid do we walk abroad to find the air balmy, mere motion pleasure, occupation attractive, society cheering, and our common existence a continual joy. My hearers, do not let health generate self-reliance. Receive it, and use it gratefully, as God’s gift. Young man, abuse not and waste not in excess, that should make . you blush, this Divine ble.ssing. To you, let the elastic . step, bloom 'on the cheek, the bright eye, the smooth : brow, and delight in fresh existence, speak of God, the i j Ciiver. I hank Him for health. Gonsecrate it as His trust to innocent enjoyment, manly effort, social useful- ness, and preparation for an honourable and holy career. IL — Our De[)endence upon God, the Giver, for Pro- PERTV, is the next topic that suggests itself 'I'his is so trite a theme that one has hardly courage to touch upon it. Men have heard from their birth that riches “ take wings and fly away.” The instability of human fortune has been the commoniflace of moralists. All lands and ages have seen flourishing families reduced to want, and the once wealthy compelled to beg the aid which they before bestowed. And such vicissitudes have been set forth in popular proverbs, and by prophets and poets, as monuments of Providence, to teach men not to trust in uncertain riches, but to use them as talents lent, which are to be accounted for. Would that a truth so plain needed no entorcing ! Put among ourselves wealth still feeds presumi)tuotis pride. The rich man is described, by distinction, as “independent.” And the multitude toils for wealth, as the means of “ independence.” That projicrty is in no measure under human influence, or that industry, jirudence, caution, can do nothing to gain and secure it- we need not affirm, for the purpose of teaching dependence. Men undeniably do something towards determining their own fortunes. Put let the most inos- perous man look back, and he will confess how much of his success must be ascribed to seeming accident,- that is, to unlooked-for propitious coincidence.s. How often do enteri)rises, which insjdred most hojte, fail ; whilst others, from which little was anticipated, become the foundation of jaincely opulence ! \'ou have “ succeeded” through life ! And why ? Because you came into life at a hajjpy season. You took the tide at its influx. And if thatjmoment had been lost, no effort, however strenuous, could have brought back the golden opportunity. Some great ])ublic event, over which you had no control, for- warded your |)rivate plans. An earlier occurrence of a storm, the failure of others in business, a commercial re- vulsion, a war, might have involved you in inextricable embarrassment. Others as sanguine as yourself, whom perhaps your success emboldened, entered on the same field of enterprise, to reap only disappointment and penury. The mode of acquiring proj)erty which is most common in our large cities— trade- has well been called a “ lottery.” And although trade is made more insecure than it need be through the spirit of rash adventure, yet, when conducted with utmost sobriety, it is still of necessity a sphere of constant hazard. The calculations, which it requires, are too extensive and complicated for the largest mind to grasp. And the laws of consumption and supply are so intricate, that the most judicious may err. I’lius Proi)erty has found in all times its fittest symbol in the fluctuating ocean, u])on whose breast so much of it is won. The progress of society has as yet done little to make property secure. Providence has appointed, apparently, that with wealth’s increase its tenure should become more unstable, as if thus to teach more powerfully man’s dependence. Formerly, there was less wealth among us, but it was more sure and steadfast. There were fewer overgrown fortunes, and smaller incomes ; but property being chiefly in real estate, and invested in houses or lands, underwent fewer fluctuations. Now, by improvements in machinery, the increase of personal property, the vast development of credit, and the extension of commerce, the pecuniary LIFE A DIVINE GIFT. 25 connections of men and of communities are becoming indefinitely multiplied. The complexity of business is increased. Vast operations, requiring the joint means and efforts of multitudes, are carried on with ever-aug- menting speed, and competition is inflamed almost to madness. The result of this extensive intercourse, and of these widespread connections and dependencies, is, that the property of the humblest as well as the highest is affected by political, social, industrial events in every quarter of the civilised world. A single bankruptcy may give a shock to commercial centres that is felt in every home throughout all nations. Every man is now affected by what are called “ the times ” — a significant word, so well expressing the changing state of the community. Commercial depressions and panics spread distress far and wide. The suspension of great establishments reduces to idleness crowds of resourceless labourers. And the largest capital of persons and communities is dispersed more rapidly even than it was accumulated. Thus fortunes rise and fall, like billows in a storm-tossed sea. Hence the prevalent anxiety about proj)erty — an evil that makes so serious a deduction from the comforts gained by our improved condition in the productive arts and in commerce. Such evils and trials surely should deepen a spirit of reliance on the overruling Providence of God. A scene of such vicissitude is certainly a school to teach depend- ence. In a world so inconceivably complex, success should be religiously referred to the Supreme Power. The rich man should feel that it is God who has made him to differ in his lot from his poorer brother, and apportioned alike his duties and his privileges. Wealth should be held as a trust from the Great Proprietor. We should remember that what we properly call our own in reference to fellow-creatures, is not our 01071 in reference to our Creator ; but is subjected by Him to the supreme law of immutable Right. Social laws may hedge round our possessions from human violation ; but they are powerless to guard, when God wills to humble us by the resumption of His Gifts. Lightning, fire, frost, storm, blight, mildew, public calamities, political disturbances, and innumerable influences whereby God moulds the destiny of nations and of individuals, heed not the enact- ment of human legislators. V'e are as vulnerable in our Property as in our persons. The very means we use to increase it may insure its destruction. The human agents, by whom we would build it up, may waste and prostrate it. Make not wealth then your dependence. Associate it habitually in your thoughts with God the Giver. Seek it from Him ; and consecrate it to Him. ^Vhere Property is gained and enjoyed in a self-relying si)irit, without a thought of the Heavenly Giver, its loss becomes an over- whelming blow. The mind, unused to lean on a Higher Power, has no support left, when material resources are gone, and has often been known to sink into despair, and in half-insanity to cast away life itself as worthless. HI. — We depend on God for Intellect. In the pre- sent age peculiar honour is rendered to mental power ; and perhaps no possession inspires more Self-elation and Self-dependence. Mind is indeed a noble Gift. But still it is a gift. We receive it from the Father of Spirits. And we hold it by an awfully uncertain tenure. Let the consciousness of this strengthen our humble conviction of entire dependence. That we have, in some degree, power over our own minds, we all feel. That industry, research, study, enrich the in- tellect, and that thoughts stored up in memory become to an extent our property, we all know. Accordingly, Biography is full of prodigies of learning, of men whose minds were treasuries of various knowledge. These intellectual giants too often have felt as if by their own efforts they had raised themselves above the common herd. But there is one consideration particularly suited to abate this self-reliance of Genius. It is thi.s. However abundantly knowledge may have been accumulated, by observation, study, or reflection, the vividness with which these remembered thoughts shall recur to the mind, and in which their chief worth consists, is not within our power. A man of talent may bring back indeed his former views ; but he cannot at pleasure recall them with that energy, which insures their efficient influence over other minds. He strives to speak or to write with vigour, but gives forth tame utterance only. His mind no longer is borne onward as by pinions, but, like a machine, must be impelled by foreign foice. His words come no more from the soul. After his best preparation he is spiritless. His animation is not spontaneous, joyful, and free ; but he tugs at his load, like a weary hack, chafed by the lash into momentary speed. Hence it is that Genius so often disappoints itself and its admirers. Self-dependent, self- centred, self-confident, when it would do most, it finds itself incapable and helpless. It ought to learn humility, from the fact that its happiest efforts come from an unex- pected and inexplicable fervour, which it can neither command nor detain. It is nowise my meaning, of course, to depreciate study or intellectual toil. But study and toil as we may, we cannot infuse into the mind, at will that living energy which is its Inspiration. Mere knowledge seems to be, in some degree, permanent and under our control ; but that inward fire and force of intellect, on which the useful- ness of knowledge depends, is of all possessions most in- secure. Wealth is as available at one hour of the day as another, and it may be so invested as to be insured from ordinary changes. But the Life of Intellect — how mu- table it is ! d'here are hours of every day when it droops. Sometimes weeks may pass, and no bright thoughts will visit us. Sadly we feel that the lustre of our intellectual day is dimmed. The light that irradiates the mind does not shine with the steadiness of the sun. The eclipses ot that orb we can foretell. Its rising and setting we antici- pate. But the sun of the soul rises and sets we know not how. Its radiance fades when we most look and long for its brilliant beams. That sun of the intellect — what is it? May it not be God, in a more direct sense than we imagine ? That glowing sj)lendour, that fervid heat, which sometimes burst upon the soul, and give it a new rapidity and reach of thought, new warmth and loftiness of feeling — whence come they ? Are they not radiations from the Parent Mind? Are they not His immediate Gift? Books without number have been written on the human mind, and many of the laws, according to which its thoughts are associated, have been traced. But the higher workings of the mind — its diviner intuitions, its spiritual conceptions, its apparently self-originated ideas — have never been explained. They come and go, we know not whence or whither. VVe may give some account of the manner in which a particular train of thought was first suggested to a man of Genius. But the life which he breathes through his ideal representation, the hues 26 LIFE A JJIILFE GILT. which lie throws round it, the splendour in which he arrays it, the tone of tenderness or sublimity in which he embodies it, the more than lightning speed by which he blends it with remote conceptions, the harmony in which he places it with universal truth, the vital force by which he sends it far and deep to quicken the souls of hearers or readers, and awakes in them new worlds of thought and feeling — these are inexplicable mysteries. Philosophy cannot reveal their origin or modes of action. They can | only be felt by experience. The Man of Genius himself, in putting forth these powers, is most conscious that he cannot command them. They come not at his bidding; they stay not at his jileasure. If a devout man, he thanks God for those influxes of mental illumination, as jieculiar communications of His Intellectual Energy, and prays that he may be more and more open for the reception of these Heavenly Gifts. I IV. — Next I propose to show that we depend on the Divine Being for Moral and Religious Power, and ' that the very Spiritual Energy, whereby we grow in per- I sonal goodness, is God’s Gift. This view of our depend- 1 ence is incomparably the most important for us constantly j to cherish. And yet this conception of the intimate relationship between our own M’ill and the M ill of our Heavenly Father is encomjiassed with peculiar difficulties. , Eet me invite, then, that serious attention without which | so profound a truth can never be apprehended aright. | There are those who, when they hear it asserted that they depend on God for moral and religious life, for rectitude and holiness, are inclined to say; “ M’hat ! have we no Power of our own to know the Right, to feel the | Good, to practise Virtue? If not, whence springs our j consciousness of obligation? M'ithout Power, there can ! lie no responsibility. Deny us this, and we cease to be ■ subjects of a Moral Government. M’e ourselves, and not another for us, must determine our own conduct and ; character, or no jiraise or blame can attach to us for the discharge or neglect of duty.” d'his objection is founded in truth, and deserves careful consideration. Every man’s heart tells him that, until he have Power over his own character, Pow'er to determine his own conduct, he is not answerable for his feelings or actions, and cannot justly be rewarded or condemned, let him think or do what he may. God may give me other good, such as health, without any effort of my own. I may receive it at birth. I may retain it without care. But Goodness cannot be thus given. Even Omnipotence cannot ?nake me a jiroper object of esteem without my own activity. No act is virtuous, but such as springs from a man’s own choice and will. He cannot be good, in the moral import of that term, any further than he determines himself towards goodness. And every man who consults the inward monitor, and inquires why and when he blames or commends himself, will find that these judg- ments are founded on the consciousness of his having this Spiritual Power. It does depend on the individual, therefore, whether he will be good or bad. How, then, it may be asked, is man dependent on God for his virtue? Why is he to seek it from God, if the Power of securing it is lodged in his own breast? d'he difficulty is one which has often been felt. The apparent incompatibility of man’s Moral Dependence with the Moral Freedom necessary to constitute him an account- able agent has led different sects to give up one or the other of these seemingly contradictory elements. Not a few Christians, in tlieir anxiety to assert human Dejiend- ence, and to declare piety and ^•irtue to be gifts of God’s Grace, do, in effect, deny Personal Power. They teach that men are utterly weak, and speak of religion as a life infused by the irresistible agency of the Holy Spirit. The just inference from this would be, that religion has no more moral worth than a fair face or a large estate, or any other providential favour. And when, instead of drawing such an inference, the teachers of this doctrine proceed to threaten with the fires of everlasting torment unfortunate beings who are not visited by Almighty Grace, they utter a doctrine against which reason and conscience protest as outraging alike the Equity and the Mercy of Cxod. There are other Christians, who, to save human accountableness, and to give man a right feeling of Power, have banished from sight his Dependence, or at least have not urged it in the strong language used in the Scriptures, and by Saints in all ages, so as to make it the foundation of solemn duties. In this way immense spiritual injury has been done. For, as I apprehend the laws of life, without a deep sense of our I)ependence upon the All-Good for virtue and piety, no great improve- ment in either can be made. Thus have I stated the two classes of errors into which men have fallen, through the difficulty of reconciling Human Power with Dependence on God. How, then, may these two great truths be held harmoniously? How may we combine the feeling of accountableness with the conviction that we have no Goodness, and can have none, but as a Divine Gift? There are two views which seem to me fitted to impress our constant Dependence on God for spiritual growth, without taking from us our feeling of Moral Power. I. The first is this. Our Power over our character and conduct is the result of our Nature, of the Constitution of our minds. We are capable of virtue, because we are gifted with Reason, with Conscience, and with what may be called the Self-determining Principle, through which we may adopt conscience and reason as our rule. 'I'akc away these faculties, and we can do neither right nor wrong. And for want of these the inferior animals, apparently, are not and cannot be proper objects of praise or blame. These high faculties are the very root of our Moral Agency and Responsibility. Now whence came these faculties, and how are they sustained? Whence originated our nature, with its ineffably grand endowments? These are God’s Gifts. We owe to Him our Spirits — this light of Reason, these monitions of Conscience, this Power of making Conscience and Reason our guide. And we not only received these faculties at first, but they are constantly upheld by Him who originally gave them. Mhthout God’s Indwelling Energy, these inward spiritual forces would expire. As the light of the sun in the morning returns to us through God’s pow’er, so, through the Divine Agency, the light of the mind rises anew when w'e awake; and without Him, we could no more bring back thought and moral feeling, than we could restore the dawn and the splendour of day. It is true that our present good disjiositions and purposes, if such we have, are the results of past good acts, and in so far we owe them to ourselves. But the Power through which those acts were done was an organic element of our nature, which God conferred. Still more we owe to God that wonderful principle of mind called “ Habit,” through which our jiresent character is vitally interwoven with the past, through which good deeds propagate and perpetuate themselves, and every virtuous effort makes the uej^t LIFE A DIVINE GIFT. 27 more spontaneous and successful. That I am the purer now for former self-denial, the freer for past obedience, is the result of that Constitution of mind which (7od originally gave, which God continually sustains. On God, therefore, I depend for my growth and pro- gress. Let me add, further, that our Nature, with all its high moral powers, would be wholly ineffectual to develope piety and virtue, were we not placed in a Social Sphere, a Moral Community, in which these powers may find scope and incitements to action. Place a man alone, with no influences around to speak to him of God, with no fellow beings to be the objects of affection, of justice, and charity, with no instruction to enlighten, no example to guide and inspirit, and his Power would lie dormant and inert. He would have no duties to perform, and not even the Idea of Duty would quicken him. Our moral and religious requirements, so far as we have any, are the results, not simply of our nature, but also of our social condition — of our relations with Humanity, or our oppor- tunities of being acted upon by, and of acting and reacting with, our Race. And Who placed us where we are; knit us thus to others by so many ties of love; made us living members of the Spiritual Universe, and opened our ears and hearts to the instruction and incitements which the laws of Divine Order for ever utter? We owe to God these outward means, motives, and opportunities, as truly as we do the innate capacities of virtue and of holiness. Without Him, then, we could do nothing. We owe to Him, as the Author of our Nature and Social State, our whole moral and religious development. Without His enlivening Agency, the Monitor within would never again speak, the intuitive perception of Duty would fade away, the Power of adhering to the Right would perish. When we wake, with a new day, how intensely should we feel, then, that it is through God’s sustammg Energy that the Voice of the Soul, which whispers to us with aspiration, courage, cheerful hope, again is audible; that it is the Almighty Renewer who grants us power to make the future an improvement on the past. This sentiment of our constant Dependence cannot be too deep. And it is plain that it in no way interferes with our exercise of Aloral Power, or impairs our Moral Freedom. On the contrary, it presupposes that we have Power, and only teaches that this Power is a Gift. But because a gift, is it less real, less our mun, or are we less responsible for its use? Is it not, indeed, the one unalter- able sign and sanction of responsibility, that our Power is entrusted by a Higher Being, who, as the All-Good, has the right to demand an account of the way in which this entrusted Power is employed? Thus we learn that, as God created and sustains our Spiritual Nature, and the Spiritual Universe with which we are vitally related, we are bound to ascribe our moral and religious growth to His Gift, at the very time when we regard it, in an important sense, as our own work. Such is my first illustration. 2 . But this does not exhaust the subject. It is plain that Scripture reveals a profounder doctrine of Depend- ence than this. It not only teaches that God gives sustenance to the Nature which He for ever recreates, but it affirms that He imparts Influence additional to this Indwelling Energy in our nature. It declares that Our Father gives His Spirit to them that ask. And by this we are to understand not merely that He endows us with rational and moral faculties, and the natural means of im- proving them, for these we enjoy whether we ask or not. But the meaning is, that He imparts an influx of Light and Strength in answer to Prayer, and that, without this Spiritual Aid, we cannot grow to Perfection. According to this doctrine, our dependence for moral and religious excellence is constant and complete. But I maintain that such dependence in no way encroaches on human power, and that it still leaves the formation of our cha- racter to our own choice and will. Am I asked how I reconcile man’s Moral Power with Spiritual Influence ? The answer is not difficult. Man needs and depends on the Divine Energy for his develop- ment. But this Energy he can gain, if he will seek for it. God liberally places it within his reach. Without it he cannot fulfil his destiny ; but he is endowed with Power to aspire after it, and the Father welcomes him to its amplest use. I do not deny man’s ability to acquire goodness, by saying that he must receive it from the All- Good. If by seeking he may obtain this Energy, it really becomes his own ; and all the virtue it bestows is as truly under his control as if he attained it by unassisted will. Power does not consist in our being able to accomplish ends by isolated action, without using the influence of others. Man is strong, not by exercising unaided energy; but he grows in strength, in proportion as he can gather and turn to use the energies of other beings. We see an illustration of this in all common affairs. The mightie.st operations of man are performed, not by his single arm, but by availing himself of the forces of nature, of wind, fire, steam, and mechanic powers. His strength multi- plies itself by applying, and thus making his own, the strength of countless other agents. The same truth is illustrated, in a higher form, in the realm of duty and religion. When I resolve on seeking spiritual improvement, do I accomplish my end by lonely efforts of my own will, however often renewed ? Certainly not ! I avail myself of incentives, guidance, encourage- ment, aid, from fellow-beings. I read what saints and sages have written, and strive to infuse their thoughts and spirit into my own soul. I recall the examples of the devout and disinterested, the heroic, and humane. 1 associate with the excellent and wise, who live around me. I add to private intercourse and friendship the public means of religious and moral culture, worship with the congregation, communion at Christ’s table, concert in deeds of charity. In a word, I strive to grow in goodness, by absorbing and assimilating, and so making my own, the goodness and wisdom of my race. What immense help do such influences afford me ! How continually when my mind is dull and languid, do the thoughts, tones, looks of fellow-men, kindle a new flame within ! How repeatedly, when my purpose faints and flags, does a cheering word, or bright example, revive my sinking energy ! Facts of this kind are of such constant occur- rence, that no one can dispute them. And they clearly reveal the nature of the Power which man exerts in moulding his own character. It is the Power of exalting and perfecting it, by using the inspiring aid of fellow- beings. Now Christianity teaches that in addition to all such influences, received from the life of Humanity, we need an Influence from the Father of Spirits — which is infinitely more efficient, and without which these other aids will fail of their highest effect. It teaches also that this Divine Influence is more within our reach than the assistance derived from any or all human beings. For it is promised in full measure, in proportion as it is earnestly 28 rilE TRUE END OE LITE. asked for, to all who seek. And prayer may be offered always, everywhere, and under all conditions. That we do thus depend on the 1 )ivine Spirit, that we do thus need Heavenly Influence in the work of attaining to the Perfect Life, none who enter on this upward course can long doubt. You, who never attempted to reach this sublime end, may question or deny. To you it may seem no great task to become what you call good ; for your standard of goodness is low. You never lifted your eyes to the heavenly height, to which Conscience and Chris- tianity summon you. And in the next place, you never seriously undertook to master our i)assions. You are unable, as yet, to measure their might. You know not how formidable appetite, ambition, avarice are, for you have been all your life in league with these foes of your virtue. Never will you learn what sway they have usurped over you, and the strength of the chains they have bound around you, until you strive to shake them off. Then will these tyrants start up in giant form, and laugh to scorn your faint resistance, and aiqial your feeble will. The good man, the true saint, the real Christian — he who seems most spiritually self-subsistent— will be the last to question and deny his need of Almighty Aid. He feels his dependence ever more deeply, ^^'hen heavenly as])irations enter the soul, they are like a light suddenly kindled in the dark. They reveal undreamed-of defects. They waken a new sense of sin. 'I'hey display the de- formity of motives, from which we had before acted with- out misgiving. The good man daily acquires a delicacy ot moral perception and feeling, before whose penetrating gaze his inmost imperfections are laid bare. His outward blemishes, his grosser faults, may be amended. Put the sins which cling closest, which wind themselves subtly through the fibres of his nature— -his pride, vanity, self- conceit, self-indulgence, and, above all, the disloyalty of his self-will to the \\’ill of the All-Cood — these grow only more apparent. He finds that to purify the fountain- head of emotion in the soul, to cleanse its depths from all that defiles it, to drive out lurking ill from its recesses, and to untwine the serpent coils of selfishness from his purposes and plans, his aims and interests, is a vastly harder work than building fair walls of outer decorum. Some po\j'erful excitement, some unwonted trial, will rouse into action lawless impulses, over whose subjection he had sung songs of triumph. Long dormant evils, awakened by adverse temptations, by a rush of prosjierity, or a shock of adversity, by flattery and favour, or by jiersecution and peril, will burst forth from their hiding- jjlaces with such violence as almost to make him doubt the reality of his religious life. At such trying seasons, a secret ejaculation, a cry of the soul for God’s grace to rescue, brings home to the good man his instant depend- ence. With what grateful joy does he then hold fast to the assurance, that he is never alone, for the Father is with him, that the Living Source of all good is near to him as his own life, and ready to renew him with light and strength from heaven. I close this discourse with observing, that our Depend- ence upon God, the Giver, will be felt by us just in pro- portion as we comprehend the Spirituality of religion — as we rise above ])rofessions and dogmas, rites and creeds, and learn that holiness and goodness consist in Love, in pure and disinterested affections and acts towards our Heavenly Father and our fellow-beings. And he who desires not only to outwardly worship, but to intimately commune with his Greator and Sustainer, he, who would gain an ever quicker sensibility to the presence of his constant Benefactor, soon learns — that, owing to the infirmity of human powers, the illusions of the visible world, and the invisibleness of the Infinite One, it is most difficult to gain and keep the height of spiritual vision. Still, if his heart has been truly touched by a Divine In- fluence, he continually strives to reach this interior and enlarging knowledge of Him, “ in whom we live and move, and have our being.” Evermore he asjjires to gain — as good men have in all ages — that unreserved, spontaneous, cheerful consecration of his highest powers, which he feels to be due to the Best of Beings. Earnestly he longs for that veneration, affectionate devotedness, and serene trust, which may elevate every act into adoring service of the All-Holy, for a gratitude, beyond words to utter, that surrenders all to Him who first bestowed — for an escai)e out of every selfish care, anxiety, fear, and sorrow, into entire, confiding. Filial Love. This near access to the Father, this living fellowship with the Father, becomes to him the one end of existence. But this good, above all other goods, makes him feel only more intensely his constant dependence on the Divine Spirit. For this hajjpiness of Heaven can come only from Heaven. To the exhaustless Fountain of Celestial Bliss he looks then with unfailing faith. And when, in the course of his jfil- grimage, this Blessedness is granted ; when calmness, which earthly discord cannot disturb, diffuses itself through his soul ; when the clouds which hang over futurity vanish, and the heavenly home opens before him with ineffirblc splendour ; when the Father’s Presence is felt like that of a visible Friend, and the parental love of the All-Perfect j)enetrates his inmost being, suffusing his eyes with tears of thankfulness, and lifting them upwards with immortal hope — in such high moments, whence docs he consciously derive his unutterable joy ? By experience he then knows, as well as feels, that this Peace past all understanding is the Influx of the Peace of God. With mingled gratitude and awe, he recognises then, that above, upon, within his own spirit is moving the Divine Spirit, bringing the Light of an Eternal Day. Thenceforth the truth, written in his heart by the finger of God Himself, becomes a glorious reality, that to all who ask for His Holy Spirit, the Father gives. THE TRUE END OE LIFE. John ix. 4 ; “I must work the works of Him that sent me, while it is clay.” The End, for which a being is made, must be deter- mined by its Nature. In proportion as we know the powers, properties, structure of the various orders of Creation, we are prepared to comprehend the Good for which they are severally designed. In regard to inferior creatures — mineral, plant, or animal — their End is easily understood, on account of the comparative simplicity of their constituent elements, and because they obey un- erringly their laws of existence. But when we come to Man we are beset with diffi- THE TRUE END OE LIFE. 29 culties. Man is not simple in his organic elements. He unites in himself Two Natures, apparently quite dissimilar, the Physical and the Spiritual. Nor is he subjected by necessity to the Laws of the Universe. He has inward FREEDOM — Freedom of AVill — a power of following the Law of his own Mind, in opposition to all outward im- pulse. Accordingly, what infinite variety there is in human pursuits ! What vacillations and inconsistencies of purpose ! What vastness of desire, what extravagance of enterprise ! What a contrast between the unchanging instincts of the brute and the tumultuous conflicts, hopes and fears, the lightning thoughts and boundless aspirations of the Human Soul ! I. — How then shall we determine the End of the Human Being? AVhy was he made — this mysterious creature — driven by so many impulses, gifted with such diverse powers, and free to turn them in such countless directions ? I have said that the End of a being is mani- fested in his Nature. And what does Man’s Nature teach ? 1. When we look upon our Race for an answer to this question, the first object that strikes our view is Man’s Physical Organisation, connecting him with the external world. We see in him a being with a material frame, receiving influences from the light, air, and earth, exposed to suffering from the elements, needing perpetually fresh supplies of energy from abroad, hungering and thirsting for food, shivering from cold, seeking shelter from heat, impelled by continually recurring animal wants, and under these impulses, spending the largest part of existence in making provisions for the body. Eor instance, when we pass through the streets of a city, what tides of busy life flow to and fro ! What ceaseless activity drives on the rushing crowds. What hurry is in their steps ! What care is stamped upon their brows ! How many wheels are ceaselessly rolling! What various trades are plied I What countless warehouses are loaded with the products of all soils ! How are endless fields vexed with plough- shares, and the remotest seas cleft with keels, to supply their stores ! And this incessant activity has for its chief aim to gain subsistence for the body, to prolong animal life, to clothe, nourish, gratify, adorn, the animal frame. The first impression which the sight of such a City would give certainly is, that Human Nature is made for an Animal End. The houses, which densely line its streets and squares, have for their primary purpose to protect the body. The vast multitudes which throng its thorough- fares seem to be a collection of beings brought together to wage a defensive war against the material elements. And it must be confessed that when we enter into con- versation with these bustling crowds, our first impression is confirmed. Eor bodily gratification does indeed appear to be the chief recompense that stimulates their thought and toil. So much must be granted. But have we then reached the great End of human life ? Because man was made to toil for subsistence and physical enjoyment, was he made for nothing more ? In what has been thus far said have we exhausted Man’s Nature ? Has he no powers but such as fit him to act upon the material world ? Is this his highest vocation ? In reply to these questions, I shall select a few considerations which are very simple, and yet well suited to show that the great purpose of our being is not outward physical good. 2. It deserves attention then, first of all, that although Man is made to labour for the body, he manifests in this very labour a Nature vastly higher than the body. In the very act of providing for wants, which he shares in common with the animal, he shows himself to be more than an Animal. It has sometimes been said to man’s reproach, that he is doomed to more servile toil than the beast of the field ; that no creature is so plainly marked out for work as he ; that on no other does such a burden rest. He must earn his bread in the sweat of his brow. But in this work he puts forth faculties of which no animal manifests a trace. Thus man’s very toil becomes a sign of his greatness, and indicates a higher end of life than mere bodily existence. In providing for outward good, what a profusion of Mental and Moral Power does man display ! To preserve this frail physical frame, how far and wide does the human mind range in thought ? What vast depths it pierces, what various materials does it combine ; what active energies, what fruitfulness of resource, what profound calculation, what courage in difficulty, what invention, patience, and fortitude in unex- pected danger, does it reveal ! To procure subsistence, comfort, and pleasure for the body, the human intellect has explored all kingdoms of nature, penetrated the mine and wrought the various metals, traversed the sky with instruments of vision to find guidance across the seas, analysed the constituent elements of all substances, risen to a perception of the great laws which guide the universe, gauged its mechanic forces, detected its chemical affinities, and grasped its all-embracing principle of gravitation. For the sake of preserving the body, in a word. Mind has expended an intellectual energy, boundless and expansive as the Universe itself Can we bring ourselves to believe then, that this Mind was made only for the body, the greater for the less, the unlimited and ever-growing Spirit for a short-lived organisation of dust ? Can it be that a power of Intellect, so unmeasured and exhaustless in its range, has been brought into being merely to drudge for an animal existence ? How could such waste of Mind be reconciled with the wisdom of the Uncreated Mind. There is something very convincing as to Man’s true End, in the familiar facts which have thus been unfolded. Man, when most an animal, shows himself to be more than an animal. In providing for his material nature, he reveals a higher Spiritual Nature. In living for the external world, he proves himself to be superior to that world. We need not go beyond man’s physical pleasures to feel that a nobler Spiritual Pleasure is the End of his being. Take, as a simple example, a festive entertain- ment, intended to fill every sense with delight. When we look at the richly spread board, what most impresses us ? Is it not this ? Whar astonishing energies of In- tellect have been lavished to provide this spectacle ! What profound inquiries of science, what sagacious ex- periments, what trials of skill, were required to produce even the goblet from which we are to drink. What stores of artistic knowledge, what refinements of taste, what creative imagination, have conspired to work the metals into these beautiful ornaments which gratify the eye. The graceful forms of these vessels have come down to us from distant ages, and bear witness to the gathered experience and research of antiquaries and historians, as well as artists. How many of these luxuries, too, have been borne hither from the ends of the earth, across stormy oceans, through countless agencies of trade, by the triumph of human thought and will over the natural elements. This very feast, at which the self-indulgent may sink, so far as he can, into a brute, shows man to be THE TRUE END OF LIFE. made for Science, Philosophy, Art, Society, and gifted with [jowers of mental skill to which it is impossible to set bounds. 3. I have spoken of the vast amount of intellectual energy expended on the care of the body. Let me next ask you to consider the minute measure of animal good which results from this prodigious outlay of mental effort. If tlie fruit of our labour was immeasurable accumulation of animal pleasures, we might be tempted to think we were created for these as an End. But are we not greatly struck by obser\ ing how small a proportion these plea- sures bear to the pains, toils, and anxious cares with which they have been sought ? ^\’ere they our great good, surely they would not have been given with so sparing a hand. After all man’s wearying sacrifices, what transient sensual gratification does he procure ? After such prodigal expenditure of energy and thought, what does he actually gain ? He succeeds imperfectly in fencing off the ills to which his animal nature is exposed. Negative good is the chief result of most of the arts of life. It is not to enjoy, so much as to escape suffering, that man builds houses, weaves raiment, tills the fields, traverses the sea. .\nd after all, how much must he endure, and how slightly can he be satisfied at the best? He shields the frail body for a few years amidst frequent visitations of disease ; and at last, life, which has been a continual battle, goes out in the brief agony of death. Does this look as if animal good were the prime purpose of man’s being ? No creature works like man for the body, and no ( reature perhaps enjoys so little, so far as the mere body is concerned. Take for illustration the vast majority of the labouring classes in all nations. How do they toil from early dawn to dark, for six days out of seven, in cold and heat, and frequent peril, to earn their coarse and scanty meals, and to find shelter and raiment — which, however they may ward off suffering, give slight positive ])leasure to the sense of beauty or refined taste. Or take the case of merchants and traders, confined to counting- rooms by day, disturbed by cares at night, watching the \ icissitudes of climate, the fluctuations of business, the caprices of popular fashion. Balance against their exertions the amount of mere animal pleasure yielded l)y all refinements, indulgences, and comforts which wealth can command, and answer, to which side the scale in- clines. When we think of the endless toil out of doors, and the endless toil within, to keep up our common domestic establishments, the price which we pay for bodily existence appears to be enormous. How striking is the contrast between the inferior animals and men in this respect? As in the summer we watch countless insects flying from flower to flower, sipping their sweets, finding in every field a feast outspread without one care of their own, extracting honey, not at a hurried meal, but through sunny hours and days, we may well feel that, so far as sensual pleasure goes, the moth is more privileged than the man. And so when we observe herds straying at will over verdant pastures, cropping their delicious food from morning till night, their very work their joy, they seem greatly to excel in animal gratification the drudging and ex- hausted husbandmen — who, with few intervals of rest or pleasure, enrich these very fields in which the care-free cattle graze, and then fill for them the farmyard and the barn with winter’s food. Nor is it clear that Civilisation lightens man’s burdens. Our Race has been toiling for ages to make the earth an animal paradise. But whether, after all improvements in the arts, we enjoy more than did our rude ancestors, may be fairly questioned. For Civilisation, by increasing wants, has increased the modes of drudgery and care; and by multiplying comforts more than habits of self-com- mand, has intensified susceptibility to pain, converted petty privation into serious annoyance, and visited us with new and sore diseases, ^\’hen thus we balance man’s toils and enjoyments, we must admit that animal good is too limited, short-lived, and unsatisfying, to be regarded as the Supreme End of life. 4. I i)ass to another view, teaching the same lesson, in a far more impressive way. Look around on this material world, which on all sides is ministering to us. Does it teach that the great purpose of Man’s being is animal good? “ AVhat a vast machinery,” it is sometimes said, “ is kept in motion to sustain and comfort the animal creation.” Undoubtedly this is one among countless purposes of the Universe. But surely it is not the great purpose, as resi)ects mankind. I'his we infer, not only from the limited ministrations of Nature, but from its frequent hostile agency. How' fearful, as well as how benignant, an aspect docs Creation wear! Behold the Sun, the most beneficent agent in our system. Does he not send scorching beams, breeding fever in summer, and such scanty rays in winter as to expose us to piercing frost? Does he not raise, together with salutary exhalations, deadly effluvia? Docs he not at one time gather dense clouds which, juecipitated into storms, prostrate in a day the labours of a season, and at another parch and wither vast regions with drought? The great Laws of Nature, in their general operations, I are, indeed, beneficial; and the more largely they are explored, the more they attest a Cood Creator. But who that contenqjlates the awful powers of the material world, as revealed in temjiests, lightnings, earthquakes, vol- canoes, and wrathful oceans swept by whirlwinds, can think of this earth as having no higher use than to supply man’s animal wants? What is a large jiart of man’s existence but a ceaseless struggle with the destructive elements of Nature! What dangerous friends are even her most common gifts! The fire, by which we subdue the minerals and cheer our home, jjerpetually threatens us with ruin. We must hem it in with walls of stone and iron, lest conflagration seize upon our dwellings, sweej) through our streets, and reduce our whole substance and the gains of generations to ashes in an hour. We must battle even with hosts of insects for our harvests and our fruits, and thus fight an endless .strife for our daily bread. We talk of Nature as our Friend. Were not her mighty forces meant as plainly to oppose as to befriend us? Does not Nature bear evident marks of being planned to rouse man to heroic energy, by summoning us to con- flict? How can one bear even to hear Nature called a “machine,” as if it were a mill revolving for man’s material uses? Its immense and tremendous energies, its floods of light, its hosts of stars, its unfathomable mysteries; are these meant only to give animal delight? Are they not manifestly designed rather to rouse far- reaching thought, to awaken profound awe, to inspire dauntless courage, and bring us into active concert with a Will infinitely transcending all material forces combined? How different is the impression which Nature makes upon a thoughtful mind from that of dead “machinery” ! In aspects of ineffable beauty and grandeur, it opens before us depth beyond depth, and touches inward THE TRUE ENT) OF LIFE. 31 s[)riiigs of joy, gratitude, and benevolence, which are as exhaustless as its own overflowing Life. For a Spirit of Power and Love breathes through, blends with, harmonises and quickens this exquisitely ordered whole, with which we feel our own Spirits to be akin, by affinity and fellow- ship ! 5 . Such is the great lesson taught by Nature. And we may learn the same truth, that man is made for a higher End, when we profoundly study the very City, of which the first impression is that it is a collection of beings brought together for the purpose of ministering to one another’s animal life. What a monument is a City to the immortal energies of the Human Mind ; and what a wit- ness to man’s Spiritual Destiny! When we gaze around upon its stately structures for public and private use; when we observe how the shapeless rocks, hewn from the quarry, have been reared into edifices of beautiful propor- tion and imposing grandeur; when we notice the various technic arts which imitate the creative powers of Nature, and elaborate the rude materials into graceful forms adapted to social refinement, can we help feeling that Man is a being, whom the Inspiration of God welcomes to be a Co-Creator with Himself? And when we enter the houses which are so densely crowded together, what do we find? Are they mere contrivances for safety and shelter? Do we not instantly meet with countless pro- visions for higher tastes than mere animal enjoyment — ■ tastes which belong to Spiritual Beings, who delight to sympathise in beauty, order, and harmony? These pic- tures on the walls, were they meant merely to gratify the sense of sight by colour? Do they not breathe with grace, loveliness, and dignity? Here may be the countenance of one associated in our thoughts with years of unbroken friendship, and hopes of a better world. 'Fhere may be the portrait of some heroic character, or the represented scene of some heroic enterprise, that reminds us how life, and all life’s blessings, have been gladly cast away for truth, for country, and for God. One such picture, in one house, is proof enough of Man’s ■Spiritual Vocation I But again I ask, what is the End of a human habita- tion? Is it merely a place wherein fellow-mortals meet to eat, drink, and sleep securely beneath a roof? A house is reared to be a Home, — the centre where a Family may gather into one; to be a serene retreat, where the tenderest affections may find rest; and within its walls love may have a dwelling-place, and the charities of life gain ample scope and happiness; that parents and children may there press one another heart to heart; that sorrows and joys may be freely shared in confidence; that troubled spirits may disburden themselves and be blessed with pardon and peace; and, in a word, that the great work of training human beings for the duties of the l)resent life and the perfection of another, may be begun and carried on. These are the True End of a human dwelling. As we pass through the streets of a City, what a thought of undying interest it is, that within these numberless homes are rich romances of domestic life — hearths, round which are gathered at evening the members of a family scattered by day, husbands and wives, parents and children, brethren and sisters — the sick and suffering nursed by the strong, the aged waited on by the respect- ful assiduity of the young, — amidst all the sympathies, labours, hopes, joys, sorrows, of disinterested love! In a City do we behold then only the .signs of a being created for bodily and transitory good? Moreover, among buildings destined for earthly uses, do we not observe churches with spires pointing towards the heavens; schools for the training of the young ; public libraries stored with the wisdom of ages, and collections of books which welcome us to communion with sages, legislators, philosophers, historians, and poets of all time and lands; museums of science, galleries of art, hospitals, asylums, all bearing witness that Man’s End is to be a member of Society, to advance his Race, and to trans- form Humanity into the Kingdom of God, and thus pre- pare, by beauty and beneficence on earth, for the higher activities and joys of the Spiritual World? 1 1. — From this survey of man’s animal nature I have shown that the End of Life is not mere activity upon the outward world. As a necessary consequence, I proceed to observe, that the great Work of Life is an inward one. This is our next position. Man’s true Vocation may be defined to be Spiritual, as distinguished from a merely animal one. I. Man has a Spiritual Nature. The Soul is created to look beyond and above all material things. I begin with an obvious, yet all-convincing confirmation of this truth. In the Soul we find principles which enable us, and we might say compel us, to discover within Matter itself, the signs of an hifinitely Higher Being. Is Matter a barrier which the Spirit cannot pass, beyond which all is darkness? How easily it scales the wall. In Nature everywhere it beholds witnesses of Supernatural Power. God! God! is the glorious Idea, that beams in splendour from all creation. In the heavens the Soul beholds an emblem of His Infinity. In the connection and harmony of Nature it recognises the type of His Unity. The Universe, vast, beautiful, magnificent as it is, cannot con- tent the Soul, but rouses it to more majestic thoughts. The wider view it takes of what is material, the more impatient it becomes of all material bonds. The sublimer the prospects which are opened by the Universe, the more the Spirit is impelled to ascend to a still Sublimer Being. For ever it aspires towards an Infinite and Immutable One, as the ground of all finite and mutable existences. It can rest in His Omnipotence alone as the source, centre, sustainer, determiner of all forces. How signally has God imprinted on us the End of our being in giving us this central impulse towards Himself! • Why is it that this grandest thought in the Universe, that the Idea of this Perfect Being, dawns on the human mind? If Man were made to find his chief good within the compass of material nature, why does the Infinite- Spirit shine upon us throughout all Nature? The Idea of God! Pause for a moment, and apprehend its grandeur. All other science fades into insignificance before its majesty. The treasures of all worlds are poor in contrast. This Idea, brightened and unfolded till it becomes real to us, is as a new Sun kindled within. From it a new Light streams over and through the Universe. By the transforming power of this one Idea, alt things become neiv. The Idea of God! It is an exhaustless spring of energy against weakness, of peace amid vicissi- tude, of courage to do and suffer, of undying hope, of immortal life. The cynic may speak contemptuously of Human Nature; and the contemptible character of the world’s ordinary principles, maxims, and feelings cannot well be exaggerated. But a being who can think the Thought of God, be he ever so fallen, is by that single power exalted to a Good, beyond all natural good. Plainly 32 THE TRIE END OE LIFE. such an idea cannot have been given for no End. It is the seal of a heavenly destiny. It is the authentic hand- writing of God upon the Soul, revealing that man’s true End is a growing likeness in Spirit to Himself. 2. I proceed to another proof that the Soul was created to look beyond and above all material interests. 'W'hat is the great 7 notive that prompts man to the study of Nature? We know what intense labour has been given to this pursuit. Now what has stirred Man to observe the sky, earth, atmosphere, plants, animals — in a word, all orders of creatures? I\’hy did Newton concentrate his vast intellect upon determining the motions of the Ehii- verse? Why did I.innaeus expend a life of toil in explor- ing the animal and vegetable kingdoms? AVhy have so many naturalists foregone the ease and security of civilised society, and plunged into savage forests, to note the habits of birds and insects, or to discover new minerals and plants? Has the great aim of these natural philosophers been to multiply the means of outward good? No! 'I'he unconquerable thirst for knowledge, for wide views, for a comprehension of the Order and Beauty of Creation as a whole: — this it is that has driven them into solitudes and deserts, and compellel them to bend every energy, at cost of utmost sacrifice, to the work of interpreting the secrets of nature. Truth! Truth has been the Divinity they have worshipped. The great men of science, so far from caring for the body, have cheerfully worn it out in daily and nightly study, have condemned it to exposure, fatigue, suffering, coarse raiment and scanty fare, and have died in poverty, that the Soul might live in the light of Truth. How many such glorious martyrs have left their record in the history of science! What, I repeat, has thus fired the Soul of the natural philosopher? It has been the quenchless desire to penetrate beyond what is visible to hidden Causes, to discover the great Laws which pervade and govern all material movements, to trace out Unity and Harmony in the apparently complex confusion of the Universe. This has been his inspiring aim. Who does not behold a glorious signature of the End of the Human Soul in this hunger and thirst for Truth? Nor let it be said that I have been speaking of the expe- rience of a few gifted men only, which jmoves nothing as to the purpose for which the Race was made. The dis- tinctions among classes of men are far less than we siqv pose. Thd profoundest philosopher differs in degree only, not in kind, from the most uncultivated boor. Every man, however narrow his sphere, is daily putting forth in that very sphere the faculties which the philoso])her exerts in his sublime pursuits. Every man has a love of truth, as Truth. And the zeal with which our lecture-rooms through cities, towns, and villages, are weekly thronged by multitudes, not a few of whom have spent the day in manual toil, but who forget fatigue in the reception of new light and in the joy of mental refreshment, is a testi- mony to the Spiritual End for which the whole race was formed, as well as a cheering omen of the brighter social state which must surely come. 3. In the preceding remarks we have seen that Mind, in the very study of Matter, looks beyond it, and seeks a Spiritual Good. I next observe that the Human Intellect is not confined to these branches of study, but every- where manifests a tendency to higher investigations. The greatest minds, in all lands and ages, have given themselves to a profound study of the Spirit itself. And this is another striking proof that we are created to look above everything outward to a Spiritual End. "Vast as has been the amount of thought bestowed upon the material Universe, man’s highest energy, through all generations, has been devoted to exploring the world within. The human mind has turned from all things, however wonderful and beautiful abroad, upon itself as the most interesting object of thought. And it has found within itself, in its original powers and affections, in its primitive intuitions and its growing requirements, in its wonderful union of dependence and freedom, inexhausti- ble mysteries and problems which ages have failed to solve. The studies of philosophy bear peculiar testi- mony to the grandeur of our Spiritual Nature. And they I)rove that the culture of this Spirit is the great work of life. The Philosopher, in studying the Mind, has found there not merely impressions received through the senses from the ever-changing world around, but immutable Principles which are essential elements of the Mind itself He has found there Ideas of the Right, of the Good, of the Eirst Cause, of Infinity, of Disinterested Love, of Moral Ereedom, of Accountableness — Ideas, which bear on them the stamp of Universality and Eternity, which are not arbitrary, local, transitory con- ceptions, but which belong essentially to All Intelligent Natures, and bring us into communion with the highest orders of being. A\’hilst all around man is mutable, he has found unchangeable elements, convictions of Ever- lasting Truth in the Human Soul. The Philosopher, indeed, in studying the Soul, has not only discerned that it is distinguished from the fluctuating forms of matter, by its power of apprehending Immu- table Principles ; but he has often been led to cpiestion whether anything really exists in the Universe, beyond Mind and Spirit — whether matter and the body have any substantial being; whether apparently external nature be not an actual creation of our own thought; or, in other words, whether, in believing in an outer world, we do anything more than ascribe reality to our own concep- tions. 'rims from the very dawn of Philosophy there have been Schools, which have held that the Material Universe has no existence but in the Mind, that thinks it. I am far from assenting to these speculations. But I recur to them with pleasure, as indicating how readily the Soul passes above matter, and as manifesting man’s consciousness of the grandeur of his Spiritual Nature. I.et me add, that whilst rejecting this doctrine as a whole, I receive an important part of it as undoubtedly true. I do not say that the world exists in our thoughts otily. But I do say that it derives its most interesting properties from the Mind which contemplates it. P’or example, the forms of outward objects have doubtless actual existence; but they owe their Beauty — that mysterious charm — to thoughts and feelings which we blend with them, and of which they are but the reflected image. The very spot which is to one man a Paradise, from the holy or happy thoughts which he has associated with it, may be to another a desert. The glory that crowns the outward world is but a radiance streaming from ourselves. How much of the interest of the creation lies in the marks of Power and Beneficent Design, which apparently pervade it ! But power and design are spiritual attributes, made known to us only by what passes within our own minds. So that from the Spirit spring the great Ideas which trans- form the Universe to us into the Symbol of the Living God. May we not be sure then that the Spirit was made for a Spiritual End, transcending all good which the Universe can bestow? THE TRUE END OF LI EE. 33 4. As another proof of the same doctrine, that man’s End is a Spiritual one, let me ask you next to turn your thoughts to a most remarkable tendency of Human Nature. I refer to mari’s power of conceiving of more Perfect Beauty than exists within the limits of actual experience. Philosophers denote this power by the word Imagination. This term to many suggests a faculty, that exaggerates or distorts reality, that feeds on dreams, and wasts itself on impracticable visions. Were these the true workings of the Imagination, instead of being its excesses, I should still think them indications of a being who has a sublime destiny to fulfil. The reveries of youth, in which so much energy is wasted, are the yearn- ings of a Spirit made for what it has not found but must for ever seek as an Ideal. It is not the proper use of the Imagination, however, to lose itself in dreams. This power, when acting, as it always should act, in unison with the Moral Principle, is a Divine Witness to the Spiritual End of human nature. Imagination passes beyond the transient and the bounded. It delights to bring together, and to blend in just proportion, whatever is lovely in Nature and the Soul. It separates from the elements of good all the admixtures of evil and deformity, and thus aspires to the conception of peerless excellence and Perfect Beauty. In the present feeble unfoldings of virtue and greatness in human nature, it recognises the germs of celestial goodness, and catches glimpses of the angel form which man is one day to wear. Imagination thus exalts and refines whatever it touches. For ever it sees in the visible the type of the Invisible, and in the outward world an image of the Inward, thus bringing i them into harmony, and throwing added brightness over i both. All things which it looks upon reveal a Being 1 higher than themselves. Perfection! This is the vital j air and element in which the Imagination breathes and ! lives. What a celestial power ! What a testimony to i the End of our being ! Whence comes this tendency in human thought towards the Perfect, if man be not born for a progress which can never end? This principle of Imagination — this desire for unat- tained good — this delight in consummate forms of beauty and happiness, is not confined to a favoured few. It is the fountain-head of the restless strivings of human life in every department. It is the soul of all great enter- i prise, though, when disjoined from the moral nature, and | impelled by self-will, it may expend itself in destructive ! schemes of ambition. Above all. Imagination inspires the Poets, whose works have been the solace and i encouragement of all nations through all stages of j society. I am aware that some persons, when they hear Poetry thus spoken of by a religious teacher, as one of the signs of man’s being created to look above outward ' things, are tempted to think that he is throwing an air of | fiction over reality. They want facts, they say, not fancy. I too prize facts, and am adducing nothing else. It is a fact — who can deny it ? — that Poetry exists, and has existed among all people, savage and civilised. Its seeds are sown so plentifully in all human souls, that to overlook the beauty into which they bloom is to close our eyes upon one of the most ennobling views of human nature. It is a fact, though many seen never to recognise it, that whole books of the Old Testament are Poems, whose sublime strains of piety and prophecy have thrilled and still thrill innumerable hearts. It is a fact, that in all nations religion and patriotism have spoken first in the language of Poetry; and that in most nations. Poetical Oenius has been regarded as an Inspiration, and its works have been ranked amongst the most precious bequests of past ages. These are facts, attested by all history. And when we consider that the highest office of Poetry is thus to satisfy the aspirations of the Soul for the Perfect, and to create more attractive and commanding forms of heavenly virtue than meet our eyes, how can we fail to see in it the indication that man is made for a Spiritual End? 5. I j)roceed to another view, giving complete con- firmation to this truth of man’s Spiritual Destiny. Let me ask you to consider what form of human character it is, that our nature impels us to regard with the most fervent admiration ? What peculiarly excites our rever- ence for our fellow-beings ? U’hose are the names which we pronounce in terms of the most affectionate homage ? Who are the men in whom Human Nature seems to be manifested in its brightest glory, who appear best to have fulfilled its End? In answering these questions, we shall find that the individuals, who have left enduring traces of themselves in the memories and hearts of their fellows, and who are thought of with a spontaneous overflow of love and honour, are those who have made the greatest sacrifices of outward good for inward principle, for truth, humanity, religion, patriotism, and freedom. It is not to those who have laboured for the body, but to those who have offered it up in virtuous toil, or martyrdom; it is not to those who have accumulated outward good, but to those who have parted with it most freely; not to those who have watched over and kept their lives, but to those who have cheerfully given them away; that the tribute of reverence and joyful commemoration has been paid. In dramas, romances, histories, and biographies, the Heroic Sufferer for principle and generous affection wins the love of all uncorrupted hearts. Contempt of all outward things, which come in com- petition with duty, fulfils the Ideal of human greatness. This conviction, that readiness to sacrifice life’s highest material good and life itself, is essential to the elevation of Human Nature, is no illusion of ardent youth, nor outburst of blind enthusiasm. It does not yield to growing wisdom. It is confirmed by all experience. It is sanctioned by conscience — that universal and eternal lawgiver — whose chief dictate is, that everything must be yielded up for the Right. What a testimony have we here, that we were created to look above and beyond animal existence ! Whilst we are impelled by urgent desires and needs to labour for outward means of good, yet our highest love and admiration are given to those who joyfully renounce them all. T'or such we rear our stateliest monuments. Wisdom, Genius, and the People’s heart preserve and hallow the memory of such Heroes. In history and song, in painting and sculpture, we keep alive their names and images. Even super- stition, in treasuring up the relics of Martyrs, as endowed with miraculous power, is a witness to the glory of renouncing the body, and consecrating it to the cause of Truth and Right. Are we not surely made then to look above all outward thing.s, and seek a Spiritual End ? 6. I shall adduce but one proof more of man’s Spiritual Vocation. It is found in the principle of Faith that aspires after an Immortal Life. I call this Faith a natural principle, not only because it has been mani fested through all nations, and is co-existent with the human race, but because it has its roots in all man’s highest faculties and affections. Faith in Immortality is D 34 THE PERFECTING POWER OF RELIGION. but the supreme form of foresight and of hope. Who does not exercise these principles every hour? But what is there to bound their range within the future of this world? Have not hope and foresight an innate energy, impelling them towards Eternity, which cannot be arrested by the tomb? Faith in the Future Life is natural; for it springs necessarily from the very Ideas of C'lod and Duty— Ideas the most congenial and native to the soul! The Perfection of God, His Eternal Power and Goodness, in proportion as they become real to us, give birth to the assured hope of receiving a higher life from His hand than the present; and the consciousness of Duty necessarily awakens an anticipation of equitable retribution, and of continued jirogress for all seekers of virtue. It is impossible that a being, capable of these great thoughts, should be pent up within a perishable body, or limited in development to this brief life. Accordingly there is a deep want in our nature, to which no change of outward circumstance brings relief; that increases with civilisation, refinement, knowledge, and our power over the natural world; that adds immeasurably to the weight of disappointment and calamity; that cries out for and unweariedly seeks a higher mode of being. 'Po many men, indeed, the Future Life becomes so real and so near, as to destroy their interest in the jjresent. The actual life fades before the light of Immortality, as tapers pale before the sun. Faith becomes too vivid to allow a just concern for the events of this transient world. Is not a being, gifted with such foresight and sublime ])Ower of hope, manifestly created to live and work, and for ever aspire towards a Sjuritual End ? The doctrine of this discourse is no barren s])eculation, but a practical truth, bearing directly on active life, and affecting our whole happiness here and hereafter. It seems to need a specially earnest exposition at tlie present day, not because it is denied, but because it is thrown out of sight in the vehemence of wordly i)ursuits. In every age some element of our nature is brought out disj^ropor tionately, and exerts too exclusive a control. At present the Material rrincij)le is unfolded with such augmented power, that the true balance between man’s Spiritual and Animal nature is disturbed, if not destroyed. “We have ] arrived at a period of civilisation when man’s mastery I over outward forces begins to be understood, d’his I knowledge of the laws of the material world has received mighty impulses and practical applications, never con- ceived of before. Consequently, the prospect of ithysical comfort and enjoyment, once confined to the few, is now : thrown open to all. Unhappily, no proportionate new I light has been cast upon the capacities and energies of the i Si)irit. The true doctrine seems to be dying out — that man’s elevation and happiness consist and can be found i only in strength of Soul, in clear conceptions and deep ! convictions of Everlasting Truth, in calm reliance upon God and Duty, in stern resolve of cleaving to the Right, in self-possession under every change, in self-conquest ' amidst all temptation, in energy to do or suffer whatever : may be imposed by Conscience, in disinterested and fear- less self-consecration to whatever good work we may be ajjjtointed l)y Providence. This Spiritual l.)ominion, this Kingdom of Heaven within the Soul, alone endures, alone gives dignity and peace. And yet with what scepticism, indifference, and even scorn, is such a doctrine heard in this age of mate- rialism, of machinery, and of proud trust in man’s dominion over nature! Still, let the true doctrine be preached in full confidence that what is so confirmed by the attestations of conscience, in all ages, cannot but find : response. Man’s Si)iritual Nature is no dream of theolo- ' gians to vanish before the light of Natural Science. It is ' the grandest Reality on earth. Everything here but the Soul of iMan is a i)assing Shadow. The only enduring Substance is within. Mdien shall we awake to the sub- , lime greatness, the ])erils, the accountableness, and the glorious destinies of the Immortal Soul? O! for a voice of power to arouse the human spirit from its death in life of animality, to quicken it with a fit consciousness of its j own nature, to lift it to an adequate comprehension of the purposes for which the sublime thoughts of God, of ' Duty, of Disinterested Love, of Heaven, are opened within! In what a vain show we walk, while we toil without ceasing for the perishable, and remain blind and dead to the Everlasting, the Perfect, and the Divine! THE PERFECTING POWER OF RELIGION. Matthew v. 48: “Be ye therefore Perfect, even as your leather which is in heaven is Perfect.” By what influence is Religion our Supreme Good? Much mystery would be removed from the Religious Life, and men would seek it more wisely and efficiently if they understood with more precision the true blessed- ness which it confers. On this point my views may be expressed in a few words. My belief is that the Supreme Good of an intelligent and moral being is the Perfection of its Nature. Nothing gives what is worthy of being considered Happiness, and nothing is of enduring benefit, unless it exalts us to that Excellence for which God designs us. Religion is the spring of peace and joy as the Inspirer of Universal Virtue — as pre-eminently a qiiickoiing principle, giving life and energy to the Intellect and the Heart, fortifying (Jonscience, and animating it with an unconquerable purpose of duty, awakening Love in its purest and most disinterested forms, raising Thought to its highest objects, and thus training our whole being to that fulness, harmony, and beauty, the union of which constitutes Perfection. Religion gives Happiness by its inward influence. Too many ascribe to it a different operation. They regard it as a worshij) of God, in order to win his favour. They inagine that it serves and saves us by conciliating our Maker, by its effect upon another, not upon ourselves; by its procuring good from abroad, not by its unfolding and elevating our own souls. Few, indeed, understand how essential is the growth of their own highest affections and energies — that without this nothing can do them good, and that to promote this is the great function of religion. This Truth is worthy of development. Let me re- state it so that it may be fully understood. I affirm, then, THE PERFECTING POWER OF RELIGION that the great office of religion is to call forth, elevate, and purify the Spirit of Man, and thus to conform it to its Divine Original. I know no other way in which Religion is to promote our Happiness; for I know no Happiness but that of a good, wise, upright, firm, power- ful, disinterested, elevated Character. I look to religion for blessings, because it includes and promotes Universal Excellence, brings the soul into health and concord, enlarges it, unfolds it in due proportions, and exalts it to the beauty and power for which it was created. It is the office of religion, I repeat once more, to call forth the ^vhole Spirit of Man, the Intellect, the Conscience, the Affections, the AVill; to awaken Energy and holy purpose ; to inspire a calm and rational, yet a profound love of Truth and Goodness, against which all powers of the universe will be impotent. Did I not hope for this quickening influence from religion, I could not speak of it as the Supreme Good. For our Supreme Good is the Perfection of our being; and nothing which does not involve and promote this deserves the name. It is said, I know, that our Happiness comes from God, not from ourselves. And this language, justly interpreted, conveys a great truth. God is the only fountain of Blessedness. But from the nature of things, and from His own Perfection, He makes beings blessed through and according to the capacities with which He endows them, and in no other way. I can expect from my Creator no Happiness but one proportioned to my Nature. And what is my Nature? I answer that pre-eminently I am a Moral Being. I have a sense of duty, a perception of virtue, an inward voice commanding me with Divine Authority to reverence Right in every act, to eradicate all evil from my heart and life, and to advance towards that perfection of which I catch a glimpse, but which shines in full glory far before me. Now I affirm that the proper Blessedness of such a being, that for which I was made, consists in conforming myself to this principle of Rectitude. I am not more conscious that I live, than I am that the Moral Principle is given to be the governing power of my nature; and that in resisting it or in abandoning it to the sway of the passions, I do and must forfeit the proper good of my being. No other real good is left. In resisting it, I arm against myself, and turn into a foe the divinest power of my soul; carry on a perpetual war in my own breast, and incur that severest suffering in the universe, self-rebuke. These remarks will show in what sense we are to believe that God gives us Happiness. He gives it to us through ourselves, through the improvement of our whole nature, and in no other way. And the knowledge, love, and ser- vice of God, or religion, is the means of Supreme Good, because it is the great quickening principle by which our being is perfected. We are to be made happy then — let us never forget it — ■ by what we are, not by what we have, by the purity and power of our own minds, and not by what is given us from abroad. We are too apt with insane eagerness to gather round ourselves defences and means of enjoyment, whilst the mind is left uneducated, and the character untrained. We are too apt to use religion itself as a kind of outward charm, and to expect that it will make us happy by some mysterious agency, instead of looking to it as the Central, Life-giving Principle, and as the great refiner and purifier of the Soul. L- — Am I asked how Religion is the impelling power towards Perfection, and how, in strengthening it, we fortify 35 every noble principle? I will give a few answers drawn, in the first instance, from our Moral Nature. 1. Religion gives infinite worth to Conscience. Religion does not create Conscience. For whether I am a religious man or not, I shall, as a man, still have some sense of duty, and of the distinctions between good and evil. But this Moral Principle lacks life, when not quickened and sustained by confidence in a Righteous God. Conscience is not equal of itself to the work of withstanding tempta- tion, and raising us to our true dignity. The passions are too strong. Do not all feel this to be true? Persuade a man that no Higher Authority in the Universe, than His own conscience, enjoins on him self-constraint, cut him off from any Higher Lawgiver and Judge than his own reason, and probably he will become enslaved to some lower principle. The conscience was never intended to govern alone. It was made to derive dominion from a conscious union with a Supreme Being. And this Supreme Being is revealed to us by religion. Religion is faith in an Infinite Creator, who delights in and enjoins that Rectitude which conscience commands us to seek. This conviction gives a Divine Sanction to duty. From religion I learn that my Idea of Right is not an individual, private, personal conviction, but that it is derived from the Universal Parent; that it is His Inspiration; that it is not a lonely voice in my own soul, but the word of the Infinite Will. Now I see that Goodness is not merely a law of my own mind, but the Supreme Law of the Universe, that all intelligent beings are subject to it, that all creation conspires to fulfil it. Without this faith in a Holy God, duty would be but a whisper in my breast. With Him it comes in a voice louder than all thunders. Without a consciousness of God, I might hope to win happiness in spite of the violation of the law of Rectitude. Now I know that it would be more rational to seek happiness on the rack or in the furnace, than in wrong-doing. All Nature now becomes to me the preacher of righteousness; for the heavens and the earth, the sunshine and storms, in their very Order, reveal an Almighty Power, who is pledged to the support of virtue and to the suppression of sin. Without a God, there would be no other Inspector of my motives, thoughts, desires, and purposes, than my own soul ; and I might succeed in disguising from myself, and hiding from others, inward impurity and deformity. But now a Light more piercing than a thousand suns,, and veiled by no cloud nor night, shines full upon me; and I feel that my most secret purposes lie bare before Infinite Purity. Who does not recognise the authority added to conscience, the sanction given to duty, by this, confidence in an Almighty Lawgiver, and an Ever-j)resent Judge, whose law and supreme delight are the Moral Perfection of His children ? 2. In another view. Religion is the great spring of Moral improvement. This confidence in God alone gives the hope of reaching Perfection. Hope inspires energy. But without trust in God I have no sufficient hope to excite and sustain persevering efforts after excellence. True, there are other aids of virtue besides religion — the approbation and rebukes of conscience, the esteem and honour of fellow-beings, the present recompenses of uprightness and charity. But that watchful discipline over the inmost thoughts and motives, that aspiration after disinterestedness and inward purity, that scorn of suffering in the way of well-doing, that preference of the soul’s health and progress to outward interests, that conflict with absorbing self-love — all of which are so essential to D 2 36 THE TERFECTING POWER OF RELIGION. eminence and permanence of Rectitude — come not from ourselves. They demand continual, fresh supplies of Divine Inspiration. So tremendous is the power of passion, so subtle is temptation, so contagious is the influence of example, that a man, conscious of no Higher power than his own, and expecting no improvement but such as he can compass by his unaided will, might well despair of resisting the combined powers of evil. An Infinite Motive is needed to quicken us in this never- ending war with selfishness and the world. And where is such a motive to be found, if we believe in no Everlasting Friend of goodness, and in no Future Life where our ])resent spiritual growth will be crowned with Perfection? Take away the prophetic hopes of religion, and my nature is full of discouraging contradictions. I see and approve the good, and resolve on amendment and progress. 1 have conceptions of excellence, which I burn to make real in character and deed. But the weight of mortality depresses the spirit to the dust; resistless currents arc hurrying down my nature to indulgence; there is a tendency to excess in every passion and impulse; and sensuality and sloth perpetually thwart the upward efforts of the moral nature. Is there in the universe no Power of Hood to overcome evil higher than I am conscious of in my own breast? How then can I ever realise that Ideal of excellence which shines before me? Then can 1 attain at best but to a low virtue. AVhen I consider too — as without religious faith I must— that even this low virtue will soon pass from me, that I liave no power to preserve it beyond the grave, that every higli aspiration, benevolent sympathy, and upright energy is to perish with the body, what motive remains sufficient to (piicken me in becoming better? Hope is the gift of religion. Religion teaches not only that there is an Infinite Law- giver, but an Infinite Inspirer of virtue. It teaches us that God delights to perfect His intelligent offspring; that He has made us for the very end of imparling to us His own Spirit; and that there are no bounds to this communication of His Life. It teaches us lliat we are subjected to temptations, both within and without, as a trial to awaken effort, to remind us of our need of aid, and to prepare us for a higher mode of spiritual being. It teaches us that the Ever-Living has infinite love for each human soul, and that present virtue is but the germ of an ever-growing goodness. According to religion no effort can be lost. What we gain here we shall carry with us thereafter. Death will bear birth into a new life. Sprung from an Eternal Parent, surely as God lives we are to live for ever. Our connection with the Eternal One gives us a hold on all future ages. In Him there is a power to uphold and carry us forward through a Boundless Universe, and without end. Believing in the All-good, I feel that the Perfection of my own Spirit is no dream; that it may become a reality; that the Spirit may actually be pure, powerful, bright and blessed as an angel’s; that, if faithful to the laws of the Religious Life, I shall conquer not only death, but what is so much more terrible than death, the power of moral evil ! Believing in a Heavenly Father, I can set no bound to my hope of what man is to become under the purifying influence of Jesus Christ and his religion. I anticipate that here on earth, perhaps at no distant day, when Christianity shall be purified from its corruptions, human character will rise to greater dignity and beauty, than we can now conceive. And when I look forward to the Future World, to a succession of ages without end, I am overwhelmed with a sense of impotence to conjecture to what heights of power, love, happiness, a human being, loyal to God and to duty, is destined to attain. The most glowing language, in which genius and piety have sought to shadow forth the felicities of man’s future being, seems but tame and inexjiressive. Man, improving for ever under the influ- ences of the Infinite and Immortal God, is a.ssured of a destiny as incom])rehcnsible now as is God's own being. 3. I can offer but one other consideration to show that Religion is the great s])ring of elevation in Character. It offers to us, for our veneration and love, and perpetual intercourse, a Being whose Character comprehends all venerable and lovely attributes; who reveals to us within Himself, without spot or limit, that very Perfection of Goodness, after which our moral nature impels us to aspire. We all know the aid which the mind accpiires from communion with a human being of noble qualities; how in admiring him it exalts itself; how his presence, voice, countenance, influence, lift it above its ordinary tone. 'I'o contemplate and love excellence is to be insjjired by it. Attachment to an excellent being is itself excellent and conforms us to his image. Now religion places us in the presence of Infinite Purity. It raises the mind in meditation, gratitude, and sympathy, and filial awe to the I'ather of the Universe. It recognises every- where in creation the traces and radiant signatures of the Greatest and Best Mind. It teaches us to feel that a Higher than man’s agency, a Grander than Man’s presence for ever surrounds us. I know nothing but this conscious relationshii) with an Existence more exalted than our own that can truly elevate us. AV'^e suffer, and often deepl)-, by our intercourse with fellow-beings. Perpetually we are temjjted to fall under the influence of lower feelings, till we become insensible to the reality and worth of our highest spiritual nature. But by feeling the Presence and the Perfection of our Spiritual Father, the consciousness of our own spiritual being brightens within us. Sentiments of love and veneration towards this Invisible Source of all spiritual good subdue the depressing influences of our material organisation. Religion, where it becomes a Principle of Life, works a greater transformation in our existence, than would be wrought were a new eye given to us, by which we should behold ourselves surrounded with a higher race of Spiritual Being.s, and thus should be enabled to enter into intimate intercourse with them. In truth all other friendships are powerless to exalt the character or to give happiness, compared with this Divine Friendship which is the very essence of the Religious Life. H. — The doctrine that Religion can do us good, only by refining and perfecting our Whole Being, is of such great moment, that I proceed to illustrate it further. F'or I am satisfied that one cause of the limited sway of religion is the narrow conception formed of its function. That religion is a Universal Principle, — spreading its influence through the whole being, developing every power to a fulness which it could not otherwise attain, diffusing inspiration through the intellect, as well as the Conscience and the Will, taking under its purifying rule the Appetites and Passions as well as the Affections, im- parting fresh interest to common existence, exalting and expanding practical energy, refining and adorning social manners, adding cheerfulness as well as purity to friendly intercourse, and blessing us only by this universally enlivening agency, — this is a truth not yet understood as it should be. Hence to many. Religion, instead of being thought of as comprehending whatever is good, wise. THE PERFECTING POWER OF RELIGION. 37 energetic, beautiful, great and happy in Human Nature, is a word of doubtful import,— especially suggesting notions of restraint, repression, narrowness of thought, exclusive feeling and habitual gloom. I could not commend the Religious Life, did I not view it in the broad light in which I am now attempting to place it. For nothing can make us truly happy but our Perfection. And the very idea of Perfection is, that the whole nature of a being is unfolded in due proportion, so that the highest and worthiest powers will hold ascend- ency, and all others by acting in their true spheres, will fulfil the end for which they were given. Such Universal Development constitutes, as we all know, the health and beauty of the body. A man in whom a few organs only would grow would be a monster. Even if this excess should occur in his noblest organs, as the head or the eye, we should still regard him as deformed. The body is a healthful and beautiful organisation only when the principle of life acts generously through all its parts, ex- panding all in a just degree, so that each contributes to the vigour and symmetry of the whole. Such an organi- sation we call a Perfect Body. And so Perfection of Mind consists in well-proportioned activity and life, through all its faculties, affections, desires, powers, whereby they all grow up into one harmonious whole. d'he prevalent error always has been, that men have confined their conceptions of religion too much to its dRect agencies. They have supposed it to consist chiefly in immediate thoughts of God, in immediate addresses to Him, and in fervours of emotion called forth by imme- diate contemplation of His glory. Now religion so viewed cannot insure our highest happiness. I know, indeed, that these spiritual acts are often the most delight- ful of which our nature is capable. The pious man, when able to concentrate every energy of mind and heart upon the Infinite Goodness of his Creator, and to enter by faith and hope into communion with the Unseen and Everlasting World, has a foretaste of joy unspeakable and full of glory. But I need not tell you that this elevation of thought and feeling is not designed to be the ordinary state of even the most improved human beings. We were plainly not designed for this constant intense action of our spirits towards our Creator. No effort on our part can long sustain it. And were it sustained for a protracted period, it would end in the exhaustion and derangement of our faculties. Besides, there are not a few who seem constitutionally incapacitated for such ardour of religious emotion. If religion insured our happiness, then, only as giving us an immediate enjoy- ment of God, it would really contribute but little to our well-being, — the greater part of life being necessarily devoted to other duties and engagements, to intercourse with fellow-beings, to toils and relaxations, and to putting forth creative energy on the material world. We cannot live absorbed in the work of adoration. We cannot keep our minds perpetually bent upon one object. And the brighter that object the sooner are we dazzled and ex- hausted. I am conscious that I was made for an endless variety of thoughts, interests, sympathies, and occupations. I have curiosity impelling me to seek the new and explore the mysterious; the reasoning faculty prompting me to infer the unknown from the known, and to rise from particulars to general truths; imagination for ever sur- passing the bounds of the real and the present ; the love ct beauty enjoying all harmonies; social affections, put- ting on a thousand forms according to the relations and characters of those around me; the senses, through which countless images and symbols of the material world rush in and throng my mind; and finally animal appetites compelling me to put forth energy upon material objects. Now all these principles and tendencies of my nature are various ca]3acities of enjoyment, and all demand their proper forms of good. Nothing can make me truly happy but a Universal Principle, that watches over, pro- tects, calls forth, and gratifies in their due order all these various elements of my being. Such I hold to be the influence of religion; and it is through this function that it becomes our Supreme Good. I insist the more on this, because religion has suffered from nothing so much as the false notion of its being an exclusive principle. Men in all ages have thought that they must sacrifice to religion some elements of their nature. To cherish the Religious Principle, some have warred against their social affections, and have led solitary lives; some against their senses, and have abjured all pleasure in asceticism; some against reason, and have superstitiously feared to think; some against imagination, and have foolishly dreaded to read poetry or books of fiction; some against the political and patriotic principle, and have shrunk from public affairs: all apprehending that if they were to give free range to their natural emotions, their Religious Life would be chilled or extin- guished. Thus the notion of hostility, between Religion and Human Nature, has in some form or other insinuated itself into believers of most different systenvs of faith. Now, in opposition to all such views, I would maintain, that the true office of religion is to bring out the ^vliol: natu7'C of man in harmonious activity, and that, by thus developing it after a Divine Order, to show how divine a work Human Nature is, and for what Divine Happiness it is destined. To understand better this office and agency of religion, let us observe that our nature is composed of Superior and Inferior powers. All these religion takes under its care, the lowest as well as the highest. But it promotes our happiness in an especial manner by enlivening and per- fecting the highest first. And to this influence of religion the necessary limits of this discourse compel me to con- fine attention. These higher powers of human nature are commonly ranged under two classes, the Moral and the Rational — the first called Conscience, or the power of Rectitude; the last called Intellect, or the power of knowing Truth. These being our highest powers, nothing can be plainer, as was argued under the former head of this discourse, than that our happiness depends upon their free and full development. The just view of religion, which I am anxious to present, is, that it is the great Principle by which these distinguishing powers of humanity are quickened and enlarged, and that in this way it chiefly promotes our happiness. Under the former head, I have shown how religion perfects our Moral Faculties by unfolding the Conscience. I pass now to the second class of our higher faculties, the Rational, and would briefly show that it is the office of religion to per- fect the Intellect. It is a painful reflection that as yet the Intellect is a source of but little happiness to the majority of mankind. In the vast multitudes, among all nations, it is doomed to inaction and lethargy. In the labouring classes of every land it is famished by want of education, oppressed by drudging toil and urgent necessities of the animal nature. THE PERFECTING POWER OF RELIGION. 38 and darkened by countless prejudices and superstitions. And in all classes, however cultivated, Intellect is too much the slave of the senses and of selfish passions, and is yet to be awakened to a consciousness of its real glory. 'I'o religion I look as the power by which this divine faculty is to be revealed and exalted to its true felicity. Am I asked how religion acts so beneficially upon the Intellect, I answer in various ways, of which a few only j can now be selected for illustration. I. Religion, then, is the great Inspirer of the Intellect, in the first place, by exhibiting its essential grandeur, and by teaching it to reverence itself. It is religion only that teaches us this reverence for the Intellect, h'or it alone reveals to us the connection of the Intellect with (loci, its derivation from His Wisdom, its nearness to His Reason, its capacity of everlasting reception of His Right of Truth. Separated from God, I can regard my intellect only as a power, which is to endure but a brief sjian, and which can advance but little beyond its jrresent bounds. And when so viewed, I am oppressed by the consciousness of the impotence and insufficiency of human intelligence. 'I'here is not a single object of my thought in regard to which the unknown does not infinitely exceed what I am able to know. The moment I would penetrate beneath 1 the surface, whether of material things or of spiritual ' beings, whether of the lifeless stone or of the thinking soul, I find a depth utterly unfathomable by my reason in this present stage of existence. And even within the narrow sphere of actual knowledge, errors constantly admonish me of my mental weakness. So that every act of my mind leads to most humbling and di.scouraging estimates of itself. I do not wonder that men of superior intelligence, but wanting in religious faith, have been led by a review of the extravagances and baffied efforts of the philosophic class to treat with contempt all claims of human reason of attaining to truth. It is only as we ajrprehend our relationshij) to an All-wise God, that we can understand ourselves, and become to ourselves objects of awe and solemn interest, d'he human mind, regarded as the offspring of the Infinite Mind, consciously partakes of the grandeur of its source. Let me know that an Infinite Intelligence pervades the Universe, and I feel that intelligence without bounds may be possible also for myself I.et me further know that this Infinite Intelli- gence is the Parent of my mind, has an interest in it, watches over it and created it that it should unfold for ever, and partake more and more of His own truth, and how can I but regard my intellect with veneration? Then I look abroad upon this vast creation, which before had dis- couraged me, with joy and hope; for I see in its very vastness only a wider field for intellectual culture. I cease to be depressed by learning slowly, if I am to learn for ever. Nor am I any longer cast down by difficulties in gaining truth; for the energy and hardihood of thought, acquired by struggling with obstacles and by a laborious training, are the best jireparation for an endless progress. Religion thus reveals the grandeur, and still more the sacredness, of human intellect. For it shows that Reason is not figuratively but really a Divine Energy working in us. No other motive can have equal efficacy in teaching us to watch over and expand this heavenly gift. The power of this motive is but little known, because man’s Living Relationship with God through the vital iuflue 7 ice of religion has as yet been but faintly comprehended; and what has been called religion has too often tended to depress rather than to invigorate human reason. 2. In another way religion gives life to the Intellect, and converts its action into a means of joy. It commu- nicates new interest to all objects of thought. Religion begins by revealing to us the most interesting Being in the L niverse, whose Character is inexhaustible alike in its essential Perfection and in its endless Manifestations ; and whose nearness to us, and constant Influence ui)on us, arrest the mind with intense admiration, such as all other beings cannot inspire Nor is this all. Religion reveals Creation to us as vitally connected with this Being of beings, the work of His incessant power, the object of His constant care, comirrehended within His bound- less goodness, and moved and guided by His influent energy. 'Phus it throws a new light over all existences, and invests them with a portion of the interest with which God Himself is regarded. Yes! All things within and around us, the earth, sea and heaven, our fellow- creatures and the material world, human nature and human history, all rise into a brighter glory, disclose pro- founder meanings, and attract the mind with a new charm, when once they are associated in our thoughts with the Infinite Mind. 'I'he Universe becomes an open book of Divine ^\’isdom. Nothing ajipears too small to become 1 worthy of study, when we recognise that God has im- ' jirinted on it His Thought, and left within it some symbol of His own Perfection. All true Science is essentially religious. It springs from the intuition of Permanent and Universal Law in Nature. And its end is to trace out connections, dependencies, and harmonious laws through- out creation. It looks uiron Nature as one vast system, as a complex whole, all j)arts of which are bound together and are co-working for the common good. Now these harmonies, connections, general laws, and common pur- l)Oses are all the emanation and expression of a Supreme and Disi)osing Mind. They are Divine Intelligence made visible. It is then the Intelligence pervading Nature that Science studies. 'Phus in all its di.scoveries it is virtually tracing out the method of Divine Reason, and, however unintentionally, it contributes to the glory of God’s Revealed Truth. 'I’he tendencies of Science are all towards God. And consequently it can never be prose- cuted so trium])hantly and so joyfully, as when quickened and led by the living consciousness of Communion with the Infinite Mind. 3. 'Phis leads us to another view, showing us the influ- ence of the Religious Principle in perfecting the Intellect. It favours that primary virtue of an intelligent being, fair- ness of mind, the honest disposition to receive light whencesoever it may come. 'Phis uprightness of judg- ment, impartiality in research, and superiority to prejudice contributes more to the discovery of truth, and to real wisdom, than the most s[)lendid genius or the most laborious acquirement. 'Phis simple sincerity is worth more than all books, teachers, colleges, and literary appa- ratus. No matter with what power of intellect a man may be gifted, no matter how extensive may be his means of knowledge, if he want candour, openness to conviction, readiness to see and acknowledge error, and above all reverence for Truth as sacred, his intellectual endowments will be used only to fortify himself in prejudice, to defend opinions which passion has recom- mended to his intellect, or to invent doctrines which will best serve to build up his fame. The wildest theories, most ruinous projects, and most pernicious principles, have owed their origin to highly intellectual men. Now I know no influence like that of religion to form an 39 /ESUS CHRIST THE BROTHER, FRIEND, AND SAVIOUR. upright mind. This influence it exerts, not only by inspiring us with that reverence for the intellect already spoken of, but also by awakening the conviction that the intellect is formed for continual progress toward Truth; and that, consequently, to chain it down to its present imperfect views, is to rob it of its destiny. Still more religion exerts this influence, by making us feel that we are carrying on our most private inquiries, reasonings, judgments, in the Presence of that God, who is Infinite Light, and whose Intelligence is Truth. It is the secrecy with which the mind prosecutes its researches, weighs evidence, and makes objections, that tempts us to shut our eyes to the light. But a consciousness of the Presence of God to the mind brings home to us our responsibility for our judgments as well as actions. The consciousness that His pure eye inspects us, compels us to inspect ourselves and to guard jealously against every influence from abroad, or from our own passions, which may pervert the reason. Thus it makes luminous the intellect. Religion opens the mind to Truth; and Truth is the atmosphere wherein our rational nature becomes illumined and made fit to enter the world of perfect light. 4. This doctrine, that it is religion which chiefly quickens the Intellect and makes it a blessing, might be illustrated by a variety of considerations which it was my hope to place before you, but on which time is wanting to enlarge. I intended, for instance, to show that the principle of Universal Love, which is embraced in true religion, and is indeed its Essence, disposes the mind to the most enlarged thinking, and at the same time makes knowledge active and practical, thus converting it into Wisdom, by directing it to the promotion of the highest good in the service of mankind. 5. Again, I particularly intended to show that religion is a source of light to the Intellect by opening to it the highest order of truths, and thus introducing it to a Celestial Happiness. On this topic it might not be easy to avoid the charge of mysticism. I believe, however, and I wished to prove, that the highest truths are not those which we learn from abroad. No outward teaching can bestow them. They are unfolded from within, by our very progress in the Religious Life. New ideas of Perfection, new convictions of Immortality, a new con- sciousness of God, a new perception of our Spiritual Nature, come to us as revelations, and open upon us with a splendour which belongs not to this world. Thus we gain the power to look with deeper penetration into human life, as well as into the universe. We read a wider significance in events. We attain to glimpses of the Infinite Mind and of a Future World, which, though we may not be able to define them in human speech, we yet know to correspond to realities. Now this higher wisdom, whereby the Intellect anticipates the bright visions which await it in another life, comes only from the growth and dominant influence of the Religious Principle, by which we become transformed more and more into the likeness of God. So true is it that Religion makes Intellect a blessing, and an infinite blessing. In this discourse I have thus aimed to show how Religion is our Supreme Good, by giving life and force to our highest powers, bringing them into the healthiest and most harmonious activity, and quickening us in the pur- suit of Perfection. Earnestly do I insist that Religion blesses us by no mysterious agency in procuring the favour of an All-powerful Being who will do everything for us without our co-operation, but by unfolding that pure, firm, disinterested, lofty Character, and that large, just, and wise Intelligence, — which conform us to the likeness of our Divine Parent, and best fit us to enjoy fellowship with Him, in His Natural Creation and in His Spiritual World. Religion welcomes us to be Perfect, as our Father in Heaven is Perfect. JESUS CHRIST THE BROTHER, FRIEND, AND SAVIOUR. Luke ii. 10, ll, 12: “Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you : Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.” Christmas has come once more — the day devoted by the large majority of Christians to the commemoration of the Nativity of the Saviour. In both hemispheres of our globe, and almost from pole to pole, the voice of thanks- giving to-day is lifted up, for the coming of Christ into the world. The appropriation of this “day for a festival is not, indeed, a part of our religion. But it is natural, it is human, — when so many of our brethren are turning their hearts and thoughts to Bethlehem, — that we should repair thither with them to sympathise in their pious gratitude. Accordingly, this text has been chosen, as the guide of our morning meditations. Why then should we feel “great joy,” as in thought we gather around this “Babe ’’lying in the “Manger”? The question may be answered in various forms. Two view's are suggested by the text, to which I shall ask in turn your attention. First, we should rejoice, because we have a Saviour, who w'as born; and secondly, because his birth was marked by conditions of singular humiliation. After considering these tw'o points, I will close this dis- course w'ith unfolding the sense, in which, as it appears to me, this Babe, born in the Manger of Bethlehem, became and is a Saviour. 1 . — It is a ground of great joy, I think, that we have a Saviour who was born to us, — that is a Saviour who appeared in our oum Nature. You know it is the doctrine of many Christians — a doctrine supported appa- rently by the letter of various texts — that Jesus existed before his human birth. Now, I say, that it is a cause of gratitude and joy, that he did not come to us in a pre- existent glory — that he did not descend from Heaven in the array of an archangel. It is a matter of joy that our Deliverer was clothed with humanity. For this has brought him near us, and established a bond of sympathy which is inestimably precious. Je.sus, by his birth, was truly a human being; and in this w'e should rejoice. He w'as flesh of our flesh. He had our wants and desires, our hunger and thirst, our sensations of pleasure and pain, our natural passions. 40 JESUS CHRIST THE BROTHER, He was born of woman, was folded in a mother’s arms, was nourished from a mother's breast; and he felt the gratitude, the tenderness of a son. He bore the relations of human life towards kindred, neighbours, and friends. He grew up amidst the labours of mortal men, ate the bread of his own earnings, and was acquainted by e.xjje- rience with the hardships to which the multitude of man- kind are exposed. He was thus actually one of our race, a Brother of the great Human Family. And we have reason to rejoice that such a Deliverer was sent to us. I am not prepared to say that the benefit of such an aiipointment is, that it gives us a Saviour who can sympa- thise with us more strongly than one who had not been born. But it certainly does give us a Saviour whose .^i mpathy we can better understand. And this is of vast moment. I am not jirepared to say that a Superangelic Being, continuing such, might not have entered into all our wants and feelings as truly as one of our race. Our ideas of higher orders of beings are very much per- verted, by the habit of comiiaring them with the higher ranks of man on earth. 'We are apt to conceive of Angels, as separated from us immeasurably, as filled with the consciousness of their superiority, as looking j down upon us with feelings not unlike those with which ’ the aristocracy of this world regard the lower classes of men. I'he true doctrine, I believe, is that just in jjropor- tion as a being rises in the scale of intelligence and virtue, he becomes knit by tenderer sympathy with inferior orders of being. In truth, he rises above the conception of liifferent orders. He regards all beings, who possess thought, conscience, and the power of knowing Hod, as his Brethren. He respects them as essentially his Equals, in consequence of their capacity of indefinite improvement. He recognises his own nature in the lowest human creature; and is most solicitous to raise the most fallen. Yes! My belief is, that the beings who symiiathise most with human infirmity and sorrow’, and who feel most deejily for human guilt, are the beings who are above us. I do not say, then, that Jesus, if he was a Superangelic Being, needed to become a man, in order that he might feel with men. But it was necessary that he should do so, in order that men might trust in his sympathy, and might approach him in fraternal and friendly relations. A being immeasurably raised above us, wearing another form, a stranger to our wants, and clad in celestial sjjlendours, had he come into the world, would have awed and dazzled, but would not have drawn men to free, familiar, and affectionate intercourse. Before such unwonted grandeur, the human mind would have sunk, under the consciousness of inferiority. Its faculties would have been fettered, and its free agency checked. Such a heavenly stranger would have been unintelligible. The language of human affection, coming from his lips, could not have been literally interpreted. The multitude would not have understood how’, wdthin such a form, dwelt a Brother’s heart, and the sensibility of one “born of woman.” It was an inestimable advantage, derived from the human birth of Jesus, from his being subjected to all human wants and trials, from his sustaining our natural relations, that his human emotions, his sym- jjathies, his feeling of universal brotherhood, found free and constant scope for manifestation, and that the reality of this bond was felt. I should say that the greater the Redeemer, the stronger was the necessity of his veiling his greatness and ' of his appearing in the form of a man, and of the lowliest j man. Nothing was so needful, as tliat the Saviour of men should be comprehended in his Virtues and in his rrecei)ts. And for this end, it was important that he should be divested of everything that might overpower the senses; and that men should be encouraged to approach him nearly, to watch and read his mind in his I countenance, tones, and movements, and to make him ! the object of their deliberate scrutiny. To this end, I j conceive, the miracles of Jesus were studiously performed in the most unostentatious way. He seemed anxious to veil his majesty under the love with which they were wrought. Stupendous works, which would have over- whelmed the human mind, would have prevented all comjwehension of the true character of Jesus. Accord- ingly, whilst his miracles had an inherent grandeur, and were performed with a simple dignity, that proved his Divine Mission, they were so tem])ered with mildness and beneficence as to leave the spectator in the use of his faculties, and to reveal Jesus as the Friend and Brother as well as Ford of the human race. 'Fhese views should teach us how much we owe to the human birtli of Jesus. 'I'hat placed him in the midst of us. I’hat made him one of ourselves. We can now understand him. We can confide in his sympathy. I feel, indeed, as if, with my present views of the heavenly world, I should not shrink before an archangel. But these views 1 owe to Christianity. 'I'hey were unknown when Jesus ap])eared. And perhaps I deceive myself. Perhaps with an archangel’s form, I could not associate the idea oi frafernal sympathy. But with Jesus, who was born at Betlilehem, I can form this association. He wore our Nature; and therefore I know that our Nature is honoured by him, and is precious to him. He was born of woman, thus becoming the brother of us all ; and I therefore know that he feels a Brother’s love for all. I am, indeed, i)rofoundly imjjressed with his greatness. I know no superior greatness save that of the Infinite Father. But his human birth, and his participation of human nature, make that greatness endearing and encouraging, not overwhelming and exclusive. Great as he is, he was still born of a woman. That head was pillowed on a mother’s breast. Those eyes shed tears over human sorrow. He had sensibility to pain, as we all have, and shrank with natural horror from an agonis- ing death, d'hus he was one of us. He was a Man. I see in him a Brother and a Friend. I feel the reality of that large, loving, human sympathy, which so gloriously distinguished his whole Character and Life. Let us rejoice then that Christ the Saviour was horn. H. — In the next place let us rejoice that the birth of Jesus was so humble. He was cradled in a manger I I repair to that lowly spot, and look on that infant born in poverty, with a complacency which no condition, how- ever splendid, would give me. And I thus feel great joy, because the humble birth of Jesus was an introduction to the hardships and sufferings of his career. His manger was the foreshadow of his cross. And to the sufferings and the cross of Jesus, more than to all else, do we owe our knowledge of his Spirit, Mind, and Character; of the peculiar strength, tenderness, disinterestedness, and ex- pansiveness of his sympathy and love. To this view I ask your attention. I rejoice then in the clouds which gathered early, and continually thick- ened around the outward lot of Jesus, because the light within him broke through and changed them into FRIEND, AND SAVIOUR. 41 resplendent glory. Our great privilege as Christians is that we know the Mind and the Character of Jesus, and these were brought out by the condition in which he was placed. How often great virtue is hidden, how often great power slumbers, for want of an appropriate sphere, for want of the trials, by which alone true greatness can be revealed. Had Jesus been born under a regal roof, rocked in the cradle of ease, and surrounded from birth with imposing pomp, he might have lavished gifts with a bountiful hand, but the omnipotence of his love would never have been known as it now is. He would have encountered no opposition; and therefore his chief victories — the victories of his calm courage, of his uncon- querable philanthropy — could not have been won. How entirely he gave himself up to the work of love we should not have conceived. Jesus on a throne, followed at every step by obsequious multitude.s, hearing no sounds but shouts of praise, anticipated in every want, obeyed at the slightest intimation of his will, might have loved us as earnestly as did the poor and persecuted Jesus; but who could have looked in to the depths of his Soul? Who could have measured the energy of his Goodness ? Who would have comprehended that a Mind of a new order had come to act on human affairs ? When is it, that I learn to know and feel the Mind of Jesus ? It is when I see him associating with the ignorant and lowly, and con- forming himself to their lot, that he might more effectually bring great truths within the reach of their intelligence, and might enrich them with new virtues and hopes. It is when I see him beset with foes, spies, and slanderers, meeting, wherever he looks, the malignant eye, the dark frown, the whispered taunt, the insulting sneer, and yet giving out the treasures of Divine Truth, with unaltered constancy and meekness. It is when I see him betrayed into the hands of murderers, and recompensed for his blameless and beneficent life by death in its most humbling and dreaded form, and yet holding fast the cause of mankind which God had entrusted to him, and returning their curses with prayers for their forgiveness. At such seasons, I approach the Mind of Jesus. I understand him. And so much do I prize this knowledge, that I rejoice in the humble birth through which he was enabled thus to manifest himself. To this comprehension of the Mind and Character of Jesus Christ, I attach infinite importance. To me, it is the greatest good received from him. In so saying, I know that I differ from many Christians, who rejoice in Christ’s birth chiefly because he came, as they think, to purchase, by his sufferings, the pardon of their sins. I rejoice in his birth, chiefly because he came to reveal, by his suffering, his Celestial Love — to lay open to us his Soul, and thus to regenerate the human soul. To regene- rate and exalt human souls was Christ’s ultimate end. And by what means could he more effectually have ministered to this end, than by manifesting, as he did, his own excellence, disinterestedness, and Divine Love ? This seems to me more and more to be the great good which we derive from the birth of Jesus. His inmost Spirit was thus laid open to us. Nothing has wrought so powerfully on the human soul, as the Mind and Character of Jesus Christ. Among all means of civilisation and im- provement, I can find nothing to be compared in energy with this. The great impulse which is to carry forward the human race, is the Character of Jesus; understood ever more clearly, and ever more deeply felt. And con- sequently I rejoice in his human and humble birth, be- cause by this his Character was brought out. Thus was he revealed as the express Image of Divine Perfection. And here I cannot but admire and adore the wisdom of Providence. I see how, by means most unpromising to men’s view, the greatest purposes of Heaven may be accomplished. Who of us, on visiting the manger of Bethlehem, and beholding an infant amidst accommo- dations provided for animals, would not have seen in these circumstances the presage of an obscure lot ? And yet this lowly birth was the portal to that glorious though brief career, through which the Greatest Mind established an imperishable sway over Humanity. In that infant the passing spectator saw only the heir of poverty and pitied his hard fate. And yet before that infant, the brightest names of history have grown dim. The Caesar, whose decree summoned the parents of Jesus to Bethlehem, is known to millions only through the record of that infant’s life. The .sages and heroes of antiquity are receding from us, and history contracts the record of their deeds into a narrow and narrower page. But time has no power over the Name and Deeds and Words of Jesus ; Christ. From the darkness of the past they shine forth ' with sunlike splendour. Such affection does his peculiar Character inspire, that to thousands now living, the inter- ! vening ages since his advent seem annihilated. They i place themselves amidst the crowds who followed him ; they hear his voice, they look on his benignant counte- nance ; they cherish intimacy with him, almost as if he were yet on earth. No other fame can be compared with that of Jesus. He has a place in the human heart, that no one who ever lived has in any measure rivalled. No Name is pronounced with a tone of such love and veneration. All other laurels wither before his. His are kept ever fresh with tears of gratitude. And this peculiar glory Jesus owes to the humility in which he was born. For it was in his humble, poor, suffering, persecuted life that he showed, and could alone have showed, the Spirit which has enshrined his Form in the heart of all ages. You see, then, why I delight in the human and the humble birth of Jesus. It lays open to me his Character, I his Mind, his Spirit, his Divine Goodness. Others are more interested in studying Christianity under different j aspects. Not a few attach supreme importance to the right decision of the question, “ what Rank Jesus holds in the universe — whether he be God, Archangel, or Man ?” Such inquiries it is nowise my wish to discourage ; for all truth has its value. But for myself I ask to comprehend the Character of Jesus. I ask to approach his pure Spirit, to learn his thoughts, feelings, emotions, principles, purposes. I ask to comprehend more and more of that Love, which was so calm, yet so intense, within his heart. I ask to comprehend that expanded Philanthropy which embraced a world — that tender Philanthropy which, amidst this unbounded expansion, entered into the griefs and wants of the obscurest individual — that disinterested Philanthropy which could surrender and endure all things even for the evil and unthankful — that spiritual Philan- thropy, which looked with constant and infinite concern on the Soul of man, which felt for his sins far more than for his pains, which reverenced him as Immortal, and thirsted to exalt him to Immortal Excellence. These are the Mysteries of Theology which I am most anxious to explore. To understand Christ’s Rank, I should esteem a jirivilege — yet I may know this, and be no better and I happier for the truth. But to discern the beauty, loveli- * ne.s.s, harmony, and grandeur of his Mind, this is a know- 42 JESUS CHRIST THE BROTHER, ledge which cannot but exert a creative and purifying power on every one who can attain to it. I have spoken, with unusual strength, of the infinite importance of knowing the Mind and Spirit of Jesus ; and I have so done, because it seems to me not sufficiently appreciated. To this knowledge I ascribe chiefly the efficacy of the Religion which Jesus taught, and its happy influence upon society. And if this view can be esta- blished, you will agree with me in i)rizing his Birth, chiefly as the means of making known to us his peculiar Character. I affirm, then, that the efficacy of the Christian Religion lies chiefly in the Character of Jesus. Christianity, separated from Jesus, wanting the light and comment of his Character, would have done comparatively little for the world. Jesus, with his celestial Love, is the I-ife of his Religion. The Truths of Christianity, had they come to us as abstract i)rinciples, would have been comparatively impotent. I might have received from a common mes- senger of God the same Precepts which fell from Jesu.s. But how different are these precei)ts in quickening power, when coming from those holy lips, from that warm and noble heart, from that Friend who loved me so tenderly, and died that these Laws of Life might be written on my soul ! The Perfect Charity that Jesus inculcates, if taught by a Philosopher, would have been a beautiful speculation, and might have hovered before me as a bright vision. But could I have that faith in its reality which I now l)Ossess, as I see it living and embodied in Jesus? Wliat an all-animating hope of realising this virtue in my own person springs up, now that I see in Jesus an inexhaustilfle desire to infuse it into every human heart, and am taught that this Inspiring Influence was the very purpose of his life and death ! Other Sages have sjjoken to me of God. But from whom could I have learned the essence of Divine Perfection, as from him, who was in a i)eculiar sense the Son, Representative, and Image oi God, — who was especially an Incarnation of the unbounded Love of the F.vther ? And from what otlier teacher could I have learned to approach the Supreme Being with that Filial Spirit, which forms the hapi)iness of my Fellowshij) with him ? From other Seers I might have heard of heaven ; but when I behold in Jesus the Spirit o{ Heaven, dwelling actually upon earth, what a new comprehension have I of that better world ! And when at last I see him returning, through a life and death of all-enduring devotedness, to those pure Mansions of the Blest, how much nearer are they brought to me ! What a new power does Futurity, thus associated with Jesus, exert upon the mind ! The Spirit of Jesus is thus the true life- giving energy of his Religion'; and well may we rejoice in the human and humble birth, by which his peerless Character was made to shine forth so gloriously before “ All People,” throughout all ages. In these remarks I have not uttered speculations. There are many strong facts to show that the Spirit of Love in Jesu.s, which was brought out and manifested by his humble, suffering lot, has been a fresh spring of human improvement, and has given its chief efficacy to his re- ligion. In truth, for many ages scarcely any element of the Christian Religion was left, except the benevolent Character of Jesu.s. All else was obscured; and the good influences of Christianity proceeded almost wholly from this source. After the irruption of the Northern Barbarians into the Roman Empire, the Christian Religion suffered a mournful eclipse. The true character of God, as the Father, was in a great degree hidden to view. He was conceived of as a jiartial and vindictive Sovereign, to be propitiated by outward rites, and a .system of theology and of ceremonies, corresponding with this fundamental error, supplanted primitive Christianity. Still the Character of Jesus was not lost. God appearecl as a terrible Tyrant. But Jesus on his cross still breathed mercy and peace. The central thought, connected with him, was that of infinite clemency, of boundless sympathy, of a charity that could not fail, d'he Crucifix, before which the bar- barian bowed, was the emblem and witness of all-sufferitig love. And it did appeal to the barbarian’s rude heart. It kept alive a spark of humanity in his breast. Hence in the darkest ages hospitals were founded. Amidst the clash of arms, and the fierce vengeance of feudal barons, helpless misery was sacred. It was to the love of Christ, bleeding on his cross, that we owe the noblest institution of the Middle Ages — Chivalry. Chivalry, indeed, bor- rowed its courage from the spirit of the Age, and the indomitable energy of the North. But its peculiar glory, its dedication to the cause of the weak, the wronged, the unprotected, — this noble element of humanity, — shone out from Christ. And, through this. Chivalry became a blessing to the world, d'hus the SpiRrr of Christ, which his human and humble birth brought forth, has been working out man’s redemption, in the darkest and most disastrous times of Christendom. We shall see still more clearly the power of the Spirit of Jesus, if we consider the great distinction between the Modern and the Ancient world. What constitutes the chief superiority of modern times ? I know there are those who say, we have no superiority. But how any man can read Ancient history, and not perceive the immense advance of the Human Race, amazes me. ^Ve have not advanced indeed as we should and might have done. And in some (jualities antiejuity surpassed u.s. But there is one glorious element in the present condition of Society that fills me with ever-new gratitude and hope. In the Christian world ajrjrears a Spirit of Huma7iity, utterly unknown in the ancient world. Man looks upon his fellow man as he never looked before. New and .sacred ties now bind all men together. 'I’here is at work a Philanthropy — which not only descends with sympathy and aid to the lowest depths of social misery — but which looks beyond the bounds of the neighbour- hood, and of the nation, with warm concern for the interests of the whole Family of Man. This Spirit is a promise to the world infinitely brighter than was given by the highest intellectual culture of antiquity. This principle is still weak, indeed, even in the most favoured countries. In our own, it has not yet been strong enough to make us recognise in the Negro and the Indian our Brethren, with rights as sacred, and souls as precious, as our own. Still, this Sjurit of Brotherhood, of F'riendship, of Humanity, is at work throughout Christendom, and thence throughout the world. Whence came this Spirit ? It was cradled in the manger at Bethlehem. It traversed Palestine, doing good, healing the sick, comforting the mourner, forgiving the wrong-doer, reconciling the sinful, heralding a reign of Peace and Love. And thence, through ages dark and desolate, it has descended to us. Shall we not rejoice, then, in the human and humble birth of our Brother, Friend, and Saviour ? How through many centuries has he transformed millions into his own Image, by the charm of his Character and the inspiring power of his Life ! How mighty is the sway of His FRIEND, AND SAVIOUR. 43 Spirit now ? Continually we meet persons who have been drawn to Jesus by his Divine Goodness, and moulded into a kindred virtue. When I behold these exalted forms of human nature ; when I recognise how, under the influence of his heavenly disinterestedness, the human soul subdues its self-love, cherishes tender, generous, refined, and expansive affections towards all fellow-beings, and rises in filial adoration to fellowship with the Infinite Father ; I feel with peculiar gratitude how much we owe to the lowly birth of our Saviour. For in this nobility of soul, which he already confers, we have an earnest of that Perfection, which he has promised to all his followers. And this Perfect Life is true Salvation. III. — Thus are we led to ask, in what sense the Babe born in the Manger at Bethlehem became and is a Saviour ? The answer is sublime, as it is simple. Jesus Christ is the Great Em.vncipator. Fie came to set the Spirit of Man free. He came to give I.iberty to Human Nature, through the whole range of its affections, faculties, and energies, and throughout the whole scope of its being and destiny. Thus is he the Saviour. Time permits but a few illustrations of this grand theme. I. Jesus came to free the Intellect ; to give man liberty of thought, and break the chains in which the reason had been held ; to inspire an earnest love of truth, and to animate men in its pursuit — unfettered by their own passions, prejudices, and interests, and by the customs, traditions, and authority of others. Christianity is the Charter of Intellectual Liberty, authorising and command- ing every man to use freely his own faculties in dis- covering Truth, and especially Religious Truth. This is a liberty that Christians have thus far too little prized, though it lies at the root of all other liberty, and is indis- pensable for the development of the human mind. When we regard the many forms of oppression yet prevalent in the world, we find none more mournful than the oppres- sion of Intellect. Everywhere we see men surrendering their free thought to the yoke of superstition, through sloth, fear, and self-interest, and hugging their prejudices of education and training as chains were never hugged before. Their minds have no free play. In most countries the man who should stray beyond the beaten path of belief would meet at his first step penalty and torture, suspicion and infamy, to drive him back. We know this to be true in the vast regions overshadowed by Heathenism, Mahomedanism, and Roman Catholicism. 3Vould that tyranny over the mind stopped there ! Would that on entering Protestant countries we could feel our- selves breathing a free air ! But the mind wears its chains, though lighter ones, even here. But Jesus came to set Thought free for a Divine i Destiny. “ Prove all things, hold fast that which is good,” is the eternal precept of his religion. He asserted and proclaimed the rights of every rational being, and sum- moned human Reason to its great function of deliberate inquiry into the “ deep things of God.” The human mind was made for 'Pruth, not for a few truths, but for unbounded acquisition of all truth. Its nature is as ex- pansive as the air we breathe, as radiant as the light that penetrates and perv'ades the universe. It was made to go for ever forward. It delights in new and ever wider views of God and His work, of nature and itself; and under all the chains which it has been made to wear, it has still struggled and striven after boundlessjiberty — so irre- pressible is its innate energy. What progress it is to make under the increased freedom which it begins to enjoy, one hardly dares to conjecture. That it is to gain ever brighter light ; that it will throw off the gloomy errors of theology, which have shut it in like dungeon walls, for ages, and will embrace a Christianity incomparably purer and nobler than we now hold, I cannot doubt. That Age of Light will understand, as we cannot, what is the worth of the intellectual liberty which Christ came to bestow. 2. Jesus came not only to liberate the Intellect, but to be the Emancipator of the oppressed Conscience ; to break the power of the passions ; to redeem and seat on the throne of human nature the Moral Power ; to give new life and range to the law of Duty ; to present a glorious Ideal of goodness and greatness, so that the mind may aspire after a lofty Rectitude, such as worldly morality, drawn from prudence and utility, and seeking chiefly security and comfort, never dreamed of. We are all conscious, however partially, that in human nature there is a PrincijAe that delights in heroic virtue, that admires and reveres men illustrious for self-sacrificing devotedness, that feeds with joy on fictions wherein fellow- beings, amidst great trials and perils, are faithful to duty, and act with noble disinterestedness, at every cost. M’e all have experienced, in some degree, the workings of this Superior Nature, so as to rejoice with triumphant sympathy, when we read the memoirs of men and women, refined from self-love, pure in principle, consecrated to grand jjurposes, ascending by lives of ever enlarging love to the blessedness of a heavenly world. Now this high power of heart and will, that j)rompts us to aspire after Perfect E.xcellence, Jesus came to set free. His aim was to enlarge and invigorate it, to exalt it to supremacy, and by his own character, example, and influence, to win and welcome it to that Divine Goodness, which it impels us to pursue. 3. Again, Jesus came not only to emancipate the Intellect and Moral Power, but to set free our imprisoned Energy of Love. Man was made for love ; he lives by love ; and the measure of his life is the largeness and liberty of his love. He is born into the arms and nourished on the breast of love. And in domestic life we often see developed an almost miraculous force of disinterested affection. But the human Heart was not designed to be confined to home, however heavenly that home may be. Its emotions naturally flow outward, circle beyond circle, in ever widening waves of sympathy, embracing in their compass a constantly enlarging sphere, and blending at length with the commingling currents and tides of love of the whole race. But there are antagonistic elements also in human nature, which tend to immure the Individual within himself, and to make him the slave of his selfish- ness. Now it is the glorious characteristic of Christ’s i salvation, that it sets at liberty our Love, breaks down the prison walls of self, and carries us freely forth into this goodly universe, — as the Home of our Father and of His vast Family ; that it instructs us how to find objects for our largest affections in all God’s children ; that it encour- ages us to identify our private welfare with the advancing good of humanity ; that it quickens us to interlink our- selves with all mankind of all classes and conditions, — by reverent admiration with the good, by reconciling mercy with the evil, by cheerful sympathy with the happy, by tender compassion with the suffering, by redeeming pity with the oppressed, by hope with all, — and thus to make our own lives entirely one with the life of our Race. There is an exulting joy in this enlargement of Personal Being ; and this limitless expansion of Love was an essential aim of our Saviour. 44 THE ESSENCE OF THE CHRISTIAN REIIGION 4. But this is not all. Jesus came not only to liberate the Intellect, the Conscience and the Energy of Love. He came to bring a yet nobler Salvation, by delivering the Soul from the enthralling sway of Creation, and lifting it into communion with the Creator. No man knows Human Nature, till he discerns in it that Central Brinciide, which might well be called the Love of the Infinite. The l)rofoundest, sublimest, grandest emotion in Man is the ^ longing for an L^nbounded Good, the aspiration to be One with the All-Good. M'e grow weary of whatever is limited. Lor ever and everywhere we overpass all bound.s. I 'I'he Infinite Creator quickens in the inmost essence of , the soul this insatiable desire, for which He only is the sufficing Object, which he alone by His own overflowing | Fulness can gratify. The diverse and multiplied forms of Good in Creation may for a time bewilder, oppress, and im[)rison this Divine Principle; but they cannot destroy it. For ever it awaits the deliverer. Now Jesus came to set this Love of the Perfect free. The true redem])tion opens, when the Soul, long captive to the visible, the tangible, the material, resumes its sovereignty, — and begins to ascend to its Heavenly Parent, by using the very creatures which had enthralled it, as the ministers of its return to God. What liberty does that Spirit gain, which, breaking away from all illusions of inferior good, gives itself freely up in veneration, confidence, and grateful joy to the Infinite Father, in whose Perfect Character, j Purposes and I\’orks, it finds an everlasting range for its i noblest facultie.s,anever unfoldingObject for its loftiest love. ' 5. 'Phere is time but to add in a word, finally, that ■ Jesus came also to set free the indomitable principle of Hope, which soars for ever forward, on unresting ])inions, out of each human heart. 'Po all the unexjjlored future opens vistas, where fairest prospects bloom and unfading joys bid welcome. But hope, if confined to this world, feels itself a i)risoner. Its flights stop suddenly at the grave. And the impenetrable back-ground, that arrests it, is an awful gloom. Now Jesus came to disi)el that dark- ness, and to unveil before Ho]ie interminal)le regions of ever brightening splendour. What a Salvation, ])riceless beyond conception, is it, to be delivered from’ all fear of death ; to be at liberty to expatiate through endless ages in expectant Hope ; to be assured that our highest attain- ments here are but the beginning of our everlasting pro- gress ; and that there is no height of intelligence, power, beneficence, and bliss, to which we are not destined to ascend! Jesus came, he lived, he died, to give to us the Universe, and the God of the Universe, by bringing our Spirits into harmony with both — by breathing into us, so far as we are receptive, the Spirit, Wisdom, Love, and Holiness, the Perfect Joy and Peace, of our Heavenly Father. Receive, honour, follow, love this ble.ssed Saviour ! Carry into life his principles. Confide in his promises, till they transform you into the Divine Image, and give you in this world the pledge and foretaste of the world to come. Compassionate Saviour ! Ne welcome thee to our world. We welcome thee to our hearts. We bless thee for the Divine Goodness thou hast brought from Heaven; for the Souls thou hast warmed with love to man, and lifted up in love to God; for the efforts of Divine Philan- thropy which thou hast inspired ; and for that hoi)e of a l)ure Celestial Life, through which thy disciples triumiih over death. Benevolent Saviour ! Insjjirer of Goodness ! We offer thee this tribute of affectionate and reverential gratitude on earth ; and we hope to know, to love, to re- semble, and to ai)proach thee, more nearly and more worthily in Heaven. TME ESSENCE OE THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. I. Ti.\i. i. II : “ The Glorious Gospel of the Blessed God.” These words express the excellence of the Christian Religion. It is called the Gospel, that is. Good News. It is called the Glorious Gospel of the Blessed God, to denote the magnificence of the truths and blessings which it reveals. In this discourse I propose to set before you what it is in Christianity that gives it the chief claim to this high praise. I wish to set before you its Essential character, and to show what constitutes it worthy of all acceptation. 1. — I begin with asking. What is Christianity? In answer to this question, it is not necessary that I should repeat the whole New Testament. This book contains the religion ; but every verse is not a separate discon- nected truth, so that each must be recited to give you an understanding of Christianity. There is a Unity in the religion of Jesus. And this maybe summed up in narrow compass, d'hrough the various Precepts of the New d'estament you can trace One Spirit, of which they are all the forms. Its various Doctrines may be reduced to a few great Truths, perhaps to one Single Truth. Now to understand Christianity, the true method is to extract this Essence, as it were, of the various teachings of our Lord ; to rise to this Universal Spirit which pervades all his commands ; to seize on this great Central Truth, around which all others gather, and from which all derive their glory. To understand Christianity, is not to view in succession every separate truth and precept, but to understand the relation of these various teachings to one another, and to the Great End in which they all meet — just as to understand the human body, it is not enough to see the limbs singly and severed from each other, but to observe them in their combination, harmonious order, and joint symmetry, as jiervaded by one life, and all co- working to fulfil one destiny. I believe that Christianity has One Great Principle, which is cent7'al, around which all its truths gather, and which constitutes it the Glorious Gospel of the Blessed God. I believe that no Truth is so worthy of acceptation and so quickening as this. In proportion as we penetrate into it, and are penetrated by it, we comprehend our religion, and attain to a living faith. This great Principle can be briefly expressed. It is the doctrine, that “God purposes, in His unbounded Fatherly Love, to Perfect THE Human Soul; to purify it from all sin; to create it after His own image ; to fill it with His own spirit; to unfold it for ever ; to raise it to Life and Immortality in Heaven ; — that is, to communicate to it from Himself a Life of Celestial Power, Virtue, and Joy.” d'he elevation of men above the imperfections, temptations, sins, suffer- THE ESSENCE OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 45 ings, of the present state, to a diviner being — this is the great purpose of God, revealed and accomplished by Jesus Christ; this it is that constitutes the Religion of Jesus Christ — Glad Tidings to All People : for it is a Religion suited to fulfil the wants of every human being. In the New Testament I learn that God regards the Human Soul with unutterable interest and love ; that in an important sense it bears the impress of His own In- finity, its powers being Germs, which may expand without limit or end ; that He loves it, even when fallen, and desires its restoration ; that He has sent His Son to redeem and cleanse it from all iniquity ; that He for ever seeks to communicate to it a Divine Virtue which shall spring up, by perennial bloom and fruitfulness, into ever- lasting Life. In the New Testament I learn that what God wills is our Perfection ; by which I understand the freest exercise and perpetual development of our highest powers — strength and brightness of intellect, un- conquerable energy of moral principle, pure and fervent desire for truth, unbounded love of goodness and great- ness, benevolence free from every selfish taint, the per- petual consciousness of God and of His immediate Pre- sence, co-operation, and friendship with all enlightened and disinterested spirits, and radiant glory of benign will and beneficent influence, of which we have an emblem — a faint emblem only — in the Sun that illuminates and warms so many worlds. Christianity reveals to me this Moral Perfection of Man, as the great purpose of God. When I look into man’s Nature I see that Moral Per- fection is his only true and enduring Good ; and conse- quently the promise of this must be the highest truth which any religion can contain. The loftiest endowment of our nature is the Moral Power — the power of perceiving and practising Virtue, of discerning and seeking Goodness. Having this as our essential Principle, we can have but one happiness as our End. There is a guide to felicity fixed by God in the very Centre of our being, and no other can take its place. Whoever obeys faithfully this principle of Duty has peace with himself and with all beings. Whoever silences or withstands this is at war with himself and with all. And no hostility can be com- pared with this. It is not brute matter with which he is at war. He makes the Principle of Right in his heart, and in all other beings, that is, the Highest Principle in the Universe, his reprover and foe. He must reconcile this Sovereign Power, and must make it his Friend, or despair of happiness. To such a being as this, there is no sufficient good but Moral Perfection. If God do not purpose to raise man to this ; if man may not look for this to the mercy, power, and inspiration of the Almighty, then he has nothing to hope for worthy the name of Happiness. Christianity is God’s best gift, in so far as it proffers to us this only felicity, and places it within our reach ; as it reveals this to be the great end of our creation. When Christianity is thus viewed, I understand why its revelations are called “ unsearchable riches,” and why it is said to express “ a love which passeth know- ledge.” By this language I do not mean to claim for Chris- tianity the exclusive honour of discovering to us God’s purpose of perfecting the human soul. The Soul itself — in its powers and affections, in its unquenchable thirst and aspiration for unattained good — gives signs of a Nature made for an interminable progress, such as cannot be now conceived. When, too, I contemplate the im- mensity and wonderful order of the Material Creation, and the beautiful structure of its minutest parts, I feel sure that Mind, the yet nobler work of God, must be destined to a more enlarged and harmonious existence than I now experience or behold. Above all. Conscience, in its secret monitions, its promises and forebodings, teaches that there is a futurity for men, where more is to be gained and more endured than is possible or imaginable on earth. But I need a more direct, immediate, explicit testimony to the purpose of God. And such a witness is Christianity. This Religion is not a deduction of Phi- lo.sophy, resting on obscure truths, and intelligible but to a few. It is a solemn Annunciation from Heaven of human immortality, and of a diviner life than this. And it is sealed by miracles, that is, by Divine Interpositions, which are equally intelligible, striking, and affecting to all. I maintain that miracles are most appropriate proofs of a Religion which announces the elevation of man to Spiritual Perfection. For what are miracles ? They are the acts and manifestations of a Spiritual Power in the universe, superior to the powers and laws of Matter. And on the existence of such a Power, the triumph of our own Spiritual Nature over death and material influences must depend. The miracles of Christianity, so far from shocking me, approve themselves at once to my intellect and my heart. They seem to me among the most reasonable as well as important events in human history. I prize them, not because they satisfy the passion for the wonderful, — though this principle is one of the noble indications of our nature. But I prize them as discovering, in a way which all can comprehend, that there is some Real Being mightier than Nature ; that there is a Mind which cati, if it WILL, suspend or reverse the regular operations of the Material World ; that, of consequence, the power of death is not supreme, and that the Mind may ascend to a Per- fection which nature cannot give. Christianity, in its miracles and doctrines, is the very charter and pledge which I need of this elevation of the Human Soul. And on this account I recognise it as the Glorious Gospel of the Blessed God, or as a Religion making sure to its sin- cere disciples the most magnificent good which even Omnipotence can bestow. I wish, my hearers, that I had power to give you some new conviction of the greatness of this good. How much to be deplored is it, that to so many men, the Perfection of their nature never rises to view as a happiness which may be realised ; that the consciousness of the capacity of reaching it, of being made for it, is well nigh stifled. The doctrine of that higher state of their powers and affections, of that purer life which Christianity sets before them, is assented to by vast multitudes with no thorough per- suasion. And yet without this persuasion we know nothing of the purpose of our being. A darkness, thicker than night, without a star, hangs over our minds. \\'e know neither ourselves nor our fellow men. We have no explanation of life, of our sufferings, or of our enjoyments. We want that truth, which gives worth and grandeur to our whole existence ; which alone inspires perfect trust in God ; which alone teaches us respect for man ; which is more than equal to the pressure of all trial ; and which can carry us forward against the strength of passion, temp- tation, and all forms of evil. How can this truth, without which we are so poor, be called into energetic life, and become a bright reality to us ? It must become so, through our own resolute grasp — by effort, by reflection, by prayer, by resistance of the body, the senses, and the 46 THE ESSENCE OF THE CHE/ST/AN RELIGION outward world, by descending into our own minds, by listening to experience, as it daily teaches that there is no true good which has not its spring in the improvement of our Highest Nature. II. — The more I think of this Central Truth of Christ- ianity, that is, of God’s purpose to raise the Soul to its Perfection, — the more I feel the glory and excellence of this Religion ; the more I feel that, if it promised other goods, or promised happiness in other forms, it would cease to be glorious. No other Heaven, than that which is found in our own Perfection, would be a good worth living for. This truth I have often insisted on ; but it seems to me so transcendent in worth as to merit frequent and earnest inculcation. On the understanding of it, our estimate of Christianity must entirely rest. Lay it down then as a Primary P'undamental Truth, that to a Moral Being there is but one essential enduring Good — and that is, the health, power, and purity of his own Soul. Hold this doctrine intelligently, and you hold the key that is gradually to unlock to you the mysteries of Nature and Providence, — of duty, temptation, and happiness, — of this life and the life to come. This doctrine that Perfection of Mind is our only happi- ness, by no means interferes with the great truth that God is our Supreme Good. God is indeed our Eternal Source of happiness. But how ? Not by pouring profusely upon us gratifications which we may receive in a passive and inert condition, but by awakening our minds and hearts to action, that we may comprehend His Character and thus derive from Him more and more of His own Per- fections. I'o enjoy God, we must bring Him near to ourselves, by concentrating the strength of our intellect in thought and meditation upon his Goodness and Perfections; and still more must His Perfections be received into our- selves by esteem, veneration, sympathy, and the adoption of His Pure Will as our own. I can enjoy God only so so far as I receive the Divine Mind into my own. His wise and benevolent purposes must become mine own. I must inhale, if I may so speak, the Spiri t, that breathes through His Works and His Word. I must approve and choose Rectitude; as He chooses it ; that is, love and cleave to it for its own sake. It is only by this diffusion of Himself through my Spiritual Nature, by the elevation which His Perfect Character imparts to my own, that God becomes to me the Enduring and the Highest Good. The desire which I have to impress this great Truth — that Perfection of the Soul is the only spring of hai)i)ines.s, and consequently that Christianity in revealing this as God’s purpose is a glorious religion — induces me to offer a proof or illustration, which I hope will not be thought too refined for a popular address. It is a plain fact, then, that to a being endued with Mind, or to an intelligent Spiritual Being, the highest objects of enjoyment are Other Minds or Other Spiritual Beings. I find pleasure in the knowledge and use of matter and of inferior animals; but they cannot satisfy me. I long for intercourse with beings who partake my own highest nature. And wEat is it in these Spiritual Beings which is fitted to give me the purest and most enduring delight? I answer: their Moral Excellence. Eclipse this excellence in the Supreme Being; put out the light of His Wisdom, Rectitude, and Omnipotent Goodness; rob fellow-beings of virtuous principle, and the capacity of spiritual progress : and what w'ould remain in heaven or on earth to attract and move us, to call forth attachment arud trust, to inspire hope and joy? The glory of the Universe would be quenched. This E.xcellence of Goodness is the one great Object to be enjoyed, on earth or in heaven. There is nothing else which can give enduring gratification. And how, I would ask, is this to be enjoyed, but by a corresponding Excel- lence in our own spirits? To want this is to want the orga?i by which to discern it in others. Who can fail to recognise that, by degrading his own character, he cuts himself off from the enjoyment of pure and lofty souls; that the practice of vice must seal his eyes to the beauty of virtue; that in narrowing his intellect and heart he unfits himself for communion with great thoughts and noble purposes in others; and, on the other hand, that in proportion as he makes progress towards Perfection, he strengthens the holy and happy bonds which unite him with God and all E.xcellent Beings, and gains new power to enjoy their excellence? Mind is the great object to be enjoyed; and this is true to a greater extent than we imagine. Even outward, material Nature derives its chief power of contributing to our happiness, by being a manifestation of Mental or Spiritual Excellence. No one truly enjoys the Creation, but he who sees it everywhere as radiant with Mind, and as for ever showing forth the Perfection of its Author. ^\’e think, perhaps, that Nature has a beauty of its own, in which we can delight, without reference to any Reality above it. But natural beauty is an image or emblem of harmonious qualities of the Mind. It is a Type of Sjuri- tual Beauty. And he to whom the last is not known by consciousness, by the dawning of beauty in his own Soul, can know and feel but little of the former. 'Phus the Perfection of our own minds makes us the heirs of all good, whether in the Outward or the Spiritual World. Let us, then, look to no other happiness. Let us feel that Christianity, in revealing this as God’s purpose towards us, meets all our wants, and is the most glorious of God’s provisions for His human family. In this discourse I am aiming to set before you what I believe to be the central. Vital Principle of Christianity. I conceive that we understand our Religion only so far as this great Principle becomes jme-eminent to our view, and is seen to jiervade and bind together the whole System. I have said that all the Doctrines and Precepts of the Gospel meet in this essential and all-comprehend- ing Truth. 'Phe purpose of God to raise the Soul from the power of moral evil to Perfection ; this is the begin- ning and end of Christianity. To this all its teachings may be traced up; into this all may be resolved. Were there time, I might survey separately the particular Doctrines of the Gospel, and show that they all may be referred to this. I shall now offer, however, one brief illustration only; but it is an all-sufficing one. I’he first great 1 loctrine of Christianity is the Parental Character of God. To us there is “ One God even the Father.” Christianity has no Truth to teach more encouraging and inspiring than this. But what do we mean when we call God our Father? Does this term imply nothing more than that He created us? He created the stone: is He therefore its Father? Do we mean that He gives us bodies, and the pleasures of sensi- tive existence? 'i'hese he gives to the bird and insect; but the Scriptures nowhere call Him their Parent. No! It is clear that this w'ord expresses a spiritual relation. It declares God’s connection with the Human Soul. God is the Father of those beings, and of those only, whom He has created in His own image, whom He has gifted with a spirit like His own, whom He has framed for the THE ESSENCE OF THE CHE/ST/AN RELIGION. 47 end that they may approach Him in His highest attributes. To be a Parent is to communicate a kindred 7iature, and to watch over, educate, and guide this nature to perfect development. God loves us as a Father, by loving supremely the Soul in each of us, and by His intense concern to conform this Soul to Himself. When you call God “ Father,” do not think of Him as a fond, indul- gent Being, anxious only for your enjoyment here and hereafter. This would be to degrade our Divine Bene- factor. Think of this Father as looking upon the Spirit within you with unutterable interest; as desiring for you no happiness but that of pure Goodness; as purposing your Perfection as His chief and crowning end in your creation. This is the only true view of God as our Father. And thus the doctrine of His Parental Character is one and the same with the great principle of communi- cating Moral Perfection, which I have so earnestly affirmed to be the essence and centre of Christianity. HI. — My friends, the great purpose of God towards mankind which I have this day set forth as the substance of Christianity, is one with which we cannot be too deeply impressed. We cannot too thoroughly understand and feel that the Perfection of our nature, for which God made and redeemed us, is the highest good and the only true good. I consider the mind sound, wise, equal to its own happiness, only so far as it is possessed by this great truth. To expect happiness by any other process, than by co-operation with this purpose of God, is to insure disappointment, and to throw away our labour and our lives. All other purposes and all other means of felicity must come to naught. This great principle we cannot carry out too far. We may lay it down as uni- versally and unerringly true, that nothing contributes to the enduring happiness of Individuals, or of Commu- nities, but what contributes to this Perfection of Human Nature. Individuals and Communities are perpetually seeking good in other ways, but only to reach disastrous failure and shame. At this period, we see a mighty movement of the civilised world. Thrones are tottering, and the firmest establishments of former ages seem about to be swept away by the torrent of Revolution.* In this movement I rejoice, though not without trembling joy. But I rejoice only because I look at it in the light of the great Truth which I have this day aimed to enforce; because I see, as I think, in the Revolutionary Spirit of our times, the promise of a freer and higher action of the Human Mind — the pledge of a State of Society more fit to perfect human beings. I regard the present state of the world in this moral light altogether. The Despotisms, which are to be prostrated, seem to be evils, chiefly as they have enslaved men’s faculties, as they have bowed and weighed down the Soul. The Liberty, after which men aspire, is to prove a good only so far as it shall give force and enlargement to the Mind ; only so far as it shall conspire with Christianity in advancing Human Nature. Men will gain little by escaping outward despotism, if the Soul continues enthralled. Men must be subjected to some law; and unless the law in their own breast, the Law of God, of Duty, of Perfection be adopted by their free choice as the Supreme Rule, they will fall under the tyranny of selfish passion, which will bow their necks for an outward yoke. I have hope in the present struggle of the world, because it seems to me more spiritual, more moral in its * The winter of 1830-31. origin and tendencies, than any which have preceded it. It differs much from the revolts of former times, when an oppressed populace or peasantry broke forth into frantic opposition to Government, under the goading pressure of famine and misery. Men are now moved, not merely by physical wants and sufferings, but by Ideas, by Principles, by the conception of a Better State of Society, under which the Rights of Human Nature will be recognised, and greater justice be done to the mind in all classes of the community. There is then an element, — spiritual, moral, and tending towards Perfection, — in the present movement ; and this is my great hope. When I see, however, the tremendous strength of unsubdued passions, which mix with and often overpower this con- ception of a Better Order of Society; when I consider the success with which the selfish, crafty, and ambitious have turned to their own purposes the generous en- thusiasm of the People ; when I consider the darkness which hangs over the Nations, the rashness with which they have rushed into Infidelity and Irreligion, as the only refuge from priestcraft and superstition ; and when I consider how hard it is for men, in seasons of tumult and feverish excitement, to listen to the mild voice of wisdom teaching that Moral Perfection alone constitutes glory and happiness ; — I fear. I fear not for the final results; not for the ultimate triumphs of Truth, Right, Virtue, Piety; not for the gradual melioration of men’s lot ; but for those nearer results, those immediate effects, which the men of this generation are to witness and to feel. In such a state of the world, it seems to me of singular importance that Christianity should be recognised and presented in its true character, as I have aimed to place it before you this day. The low views of our religion, which have prevailed too long, should give place to this highest one. They suited, perhaps, darker ages ; but they have done their work, and should pass away. Chris- tianity should now be disincumbered and set free from the unintelligible and irrational Doctrines, and the un- couth and idolatrous Forms and Ceremonies which terror, superstition, vanity, priestcraft, and ambition have laboured to identify with it. It should come forth from the darkness and corruption of the past in its own celestial splendour, and in its divine simplicity. It should be comprehended as having but one purpose, the Perfection of Human Nature, the elevation of men into nobler beings. I would have it so luminously displayed that men should distinctly see how it tends, by all its in- fluences and teachings, to the true Freedom of the State, and to the honour and everlasting progress of the indi- vidual. Let Christianity be thus taught and viewed, and it will act as a New Power on human affairs. And unless thus viewed, I despair of its triumphs. The time has gone by in which any Religion is to take a strong and enduring hold on the world, except by offering itself in the high character ascribed to Christianity in this dis- course. Men will yield their faith to no system which does not bear the plain marks of being adapted to the highest principles and powers of Human Nature, and which does not open to it a career of Endless Improi'e- nient. They are outgrowing unintelligible notions. They understand that the glory of a Religion is to be measured by the moral glory, power, perfection, which it commu- nicates to the Mind. I know not, therefore, how a greater service can be rendered to Christianity, or how its power can be more extended, than by teaching it as a revelation of God’s great purpose to perfect His human 48 PERFECT LIFE THE END OF CHRISTIANITY. offspring, and as the great power or instrument by which this Perfection is to be achieved. My friends, I have been applying our subject to the actual state of the Christian and civilised world. Let me come nearer home. You have heard of Cod’s purpose to purify and perfect the human soul, that He has sent His Son to redeem it from all evil, and to present it spot- less before its Creator and Judge. Do you believe this? Have you faith in the Human Soul as formed for a higher life than it can now enjoy ? Have you faith in your own Souls, as capable of ascending to sinless purity ? Has the Perfection of your being risen before you as the one glorious good, for which existence was granted, for which its mingled joys and trials were measured out, for which the Father sent His Son from heaven ? Do you believe that the blessedness of angels may be yours, and that to this bliss you are welcomed ? You believe in Cod. Put how? As the Author of this Outward Universe ? This is to pause at the threshold. Do you believe in Him yet more as the Author of an Inner Universe, whose beauty, grandeur, harmony, and exceeding excellence transcend immeasurably all that Nature manifests of His Infinite Cood-will ? You speak of His love. Do you feel that this love is too lofty, too limitless, to content itself with any good that falls short of elevating His Children into companionship with Himself? Have you learned to look through the body to the Immortal Spirit, and to feel that this is infinitely precious to the Father of Spirits, and that it should be equally dear to you His Child? This, and this alone, is Christian Faith. Are we wanting in this faith in the destiny of the Soul for Perfection ? Then we know Christianity only in the letter, and as a sound. 'I'hen the significance of the Clorious Cospel has never brightened on our view. Then the Light of Life has never risen within. Tlien our own Souls are yet to be revealed to us. Then the all-illuminating Truth, that gives unutterable interest to this infant stage of our exist- ence, has never dawned on u.s. 'Phen the Internal Day, with its sjilendours of consolation, hope, peace, and ex- haustless power, has not beamed on us in blessing. Put this 'I’ruth may shine out, if our minds turn towards it. ’Phis Day may dawn, and the Infinite Love of our Father for us rise like the morning. Let u.s aspire towards this living confidence, that it is the will of Cod to unfold and e.xalt without end the Spirit that entrusts itself to Him in well-doing as to a Faithful Creator. And may the “ Cod of all grace, who hath called us unto His eternal glory by Clirist Jesus, after that ye have suffered awhile, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you. To Him be glory and dominion, for ever. Amen.” PERFECT LIFE THE END OF CHRISTIANITY. M.vrTHEW vii. 21 : “Not every one that .saitli unto me. Lord, I.ord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven ; hut he that doelh the will of my Father which is in heaven.” Ix these words we have a light to guide us through the intricate paths and imprisoning walls, which perverse ingenuity has reared around the Temple of Cod in Man. Here we learn what is central in religion. Here is revealed the immortal good, that Jesus, in his life and death, pro- ])Osed as his Creat End. To do Cod’s Will — Duty — Moral and Religious In- tegrity — Rectitude in principle and practice — the Love of the Father and of all His intelligent offspring in truth and in deed — this holds the supreme place of dignity, alike on earth and in heaven. Just in so far as we attain to this, we enter even now the Kingdom of Heaven. Would that this Truth might emerge in full glory, out of the obscurity with which false systems of Theology have enveloped it ; that it might break through the clouds of mystery, which have so long shrouded it, and shine with sunlike splendour on our souls. Never can Cod’s Will be done with our whole energy, until we learn that there is nothing in time, nothing in eternity, to be compared with the Perfect Life. 1. — By the Will of Cod we understand generally His Commands. In the text, Jesus intended particularly the Precepts which he was just giving from the Mount ; for these words concentrate the Spirit of that memorable discourse. The great truth, to which we are led by this passage, and by the whole New Testament, may be ex- pressed in a few words. I affirm, and would maintain, that Excellence of Ch.\racter — that the religious, social, self-controlling Virtue, which is set forth in these Precepts, and which pervades the whole teaching of Jesus — is the Creat Object of Christianity, is the Great Blessing which Christ came to communicate. I affirm that the highest good which he effects is that which works within. His influence on human character is his holiest influence. I insist on this truth, — because, simple as it ajipears to be, it is not sufficiently understood. 'Phe common doctrine is, that Christ came to confer other benefits, and especially to reconcile the offended Deity to His sinful creatures, to shield men from Divine anger and from outward jnmish- ment. I believe, on the contrary, that his Creat End is to work a change within the mind, spirit, character of men, and that the glory of this change constitutes the glory of His office. Virtue, rectitude, purity, love of Cod, love to man, — in one word, Goodness, — this is the great good which flows to us from Jesus Christ. 'Phis is the Redemption he confers. ’Phis truth I would now illustrate. 1. I’hat Christ’s great purjiose is to redeem men from Sin to Virtue, is the view I meet with jjerpetually in the Scriptures. I meet it everywhere ; now in direct asser- tion, now by implication. I meet it in precept, promise, and parable. “ His name shall be called Jesus,” says the angel ; “ for he shall save his jieople from their sins,” — that is, from vice and moral evil. “I came,” says Jesus, “to call men to repentance.” “Cod sent him to bless us,” says Peter, “ by turning us from our iniquities.” “ He gave himself for us,” says Paul, “ that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works.” “ He died for us, that we, dying to sin, may live unto righteousness.” But it is unnecessary to multijily quotations. lyhat is plainer from the whole New Testament, than that reformation, righteousness, the practice of good works, is the great purpose of our religion, and that whenever this is accom- plished, the work of Christianity is done ? 2 . I pass from the Scriptures to that Revelation which PERFECT LIFE THE END OF CHRISTIANITY. 49 always concurs with Scripture, — to Reason ; and I affirm, that from the very nature of God and of His Universe, Jesus Christ can communicate no greater good than this Virtue, — this Rectitude of which I have spoken. And I thus affirm, because this Goodness is the highest good which Jesus himself possesses. We hear much con- troversy and contention respecting Jesus Christ. But I ask you — What was his great distinction? Was it not his spotless virtue ? Place Jesus in what rank you will, is it not, after all, the Excellence of his Character, — his dis- interestedness — his devotion to great and good ends — his celestial mildness — his stainless purity, — which you count the best of all his endowments ? Arm him with power over the universe, but quench his Charity, and do you not eclipse his glory? Ascribe to him infinite wisdom, but pervert the Rectitude of his will, and do you not even turn such omniscience into a curse alike to himself and to others? What I ask, does Jesus own, so precious, so glorious, as that Virtue, which he teaches his disciples? AVhat is it that endears Jesus Christ to his Father? You may learn it from the following passage: “Jesus said to his disciples: If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love, even as I have kept my Father’s commandments, and abide in His love.” I beg you to weigh these words. Jesus owed the peculiar love with which he was regarded by God, — he owed his office as the Messiah, and all the power with which he was invested, — to his obedience, to his moral and religious integrity, to his unfailing reverence for Goodness. Why was it that he enjoyed such peculiar communion with God ? He says : “ The Father hath not left me alone, because I do always those things which please Him.” This was the bond of union between him and his Father. To this perfect Rectitude of his Will, his Reason and his Life, he owed not only his mission on earth, but his crown in Heaven. Paul assures us, that in recompense of his obedience unto death, he is now enthroned above all power and dignity, both in this world and in the world to come. Thus in heaven, as on earth, Jesus has nothing so precious to bestow as Goodness. ^Ve talk indeed in popular language of Christ as “ sitting on a throne.” But how worthless would be a throne, though made of heaven’s richest treasures, compared with the Godlike Charity that reigns within him and con- stitutes his Soul ? His real throne is the empire that tried and triumphant Virtue gives him in that pure realm. Men talk of the “ brightness ” which surrounds him, and of the “ splendour of his form ” ; but this is only the beaming forth of his Spirit. Mere outward radiance is dim when compared with his Intellectual and Moral Per- fection. The disputes of Christians about the Rank of Christ have turned their minds away from the simple truth taught throughout in the New Testament, — that his unfaltering Rectitude, — his undeviating obedience, — his divine philanthropy, — his perfect accordance with the Will of his Father, — was, and is, and ever will be, his supreme glory and his richest joy; and conse- quently that he can give nothing more blessed. In bringing us, by his religion, to do the Will of his Father, he brings us into his own state of happiness and heaven, — brings us to do that, in doing which his own blessedness consists, — brings us into his own kingdom, and shares with us his own throne. For his Kingdom is but another name for Righteousness, and his Throne is the sway that Virtue always wields. 3. I urge this topic, because it seems to me that no error is more common among all Sects than the expec- tation from Christ of some greater good than Virtue and Holiness, — than a right Spirit towards God and man But this includes all good. This is to the mind what health is to the body, giving it the enjoyment of all else, bringing it into harmony with God and the Creation, giving it peace within itself. In an important sense, the spring of all happiness is in the Mind. True, all happi- ness is the gift of God. But He gives it through our own spiritual development, gives it as a fruit and recompense of growing purity. No happiness will bloom for us here- after which has not its germs in our own rectified minds, which does not spring from an inward root of wisdom and of love. Future happiness is not to be a passive good, coming to us from outward sources, a delight which we shall inhale as we now breathe a balmy atmosphere, with- out a thought or care of our own. Happiness is not to be a stream of pleasure flowing in upon us, whilst we resign ourselves to indolent repose. The happiness of heaven is activity. It is power. It is clear and bright thought, the love of Truth, and the love of Right. It is strengthening friendship and efficient charity. It is con- secration of every energy to God — the perception of beauty in all His works — the offering up of gratitude and praise for ever new and multiplying proofs of His good- ness. It is the outflow of our sympathies and attachments, and the communication of nobler blessings to our fellow- creatures. By the happiness of Heaven, I understand the Mind, rising, through acts of piety and virtue, to an enlarged, sublime, creative power of Thought, such as is faintly shadowed forth by the mightiest efforts of Genius upon earth, and to a Pure Love, of which we have dim presages in the most heroic and self-sacrificing deeds of Heroism recorded in history. The happiness of heaven is Moral and Religious Principle, diffused through and perfecting all our faculties, affections and energies ; and consequently nothing greater than this Principle of Good- ness can be communicated to us by Jesus Christ through everlasting ages. His highest office consists in thus leading us to do the Will of Our Father in Heaven. In conforming our Minds to the Supreme Mind, he gives us the happiness of heaven ; nor can it be given in any other way. From these remarks you learn that I consider Righteous Action, the Doing of God’s Will, as the Beginning and End of Christianity. I regard the Precepts of Jesus — which he gave on the Mount, and which he illustrated so gloriously in his life — as the Essential Element of his Religion, and to which all other parts are but subservient. Obey these, and the purpose of his religion is fulfilled in you. Regard these as your Rule of Life, and you build your house upon a rock. Ivive them out in deed, and you have entered the Kingdom of Heaven — you even now enter it. Christ’s Precepts then — declaring God’s Will, or Perfect Virtue — are what chiefly concern us. To secure obedience to his Precepts is the great aim of all the Doctrines, Promises, and other Teachings of Christ. And to exalt these above the Precepts is to prefer the means to the End. H. — I. It may be said, in reply to these views, that whilst I am inclined to lay the whole stress on Obedience and on Perfect Virtue, the New Testament lays the greatest stress on Faith. “ To be saved, we must believe,” men say. “Virtue, purity, sanctity, are not enough. Faith in Christ is the possession which is most to be prized.” I might reply to this, that Paul taught a E 50 PERFECT LIFE TILE END OF CHRISTIANITY. difiercnt doctrine, in that memorable passage, where, in comparing Faith, Hope and Charity, he said, the “greatest of these is Charity.” I waive, however, that reply. I acknowledge the importance oi Faith. But still I main- tain the supremacy of virtuous obedience. For what is Faith, and what is its use? To believe in Christ is to receive and cherish those great truths, from which a pure life flows, — by which the mind is strengthened to with- stand evil, to overcome inward and outward foes, and to press forward to Perfection. The value of Faith ties in its power over the character, — in the force of holy pur- jrose, in the enlargement of philanthropy, — in the union of the mind to God — to which it is fitted to exalt us. In other words. Faith is a meaus, and Obedience is the End. A\'hat is it to believe in Christ ? I answer ; It is to believe that he and his religion came from God, and to follow out in practice this conviction. It is to recognise a divine excellence and authority in his Prece])ts, and resolutely to adopt them as our Rule of Life. It is to see a divine purity in his Character, and resolutely to make it our model. It is to be assured that under his guidance we shall attain to Perfection, and to forsake all other guides for this inestimable good. It is to believe in the promises which he has made to all forms of holi- ness ; and under this conviction to cultivate all. It is to believe that the pure in heart shall see God ; and under this conviction to cleanse the thoughts, imaginations, and desires. It is to believe that the merciful shall find mercy, and the forgiving be forgiven ; and through this confi- dence to cherish a placable and affectionate virtue. It is to believe the promise, that if we ask we shall receive ; and under this persuasion to seek earnestly God’s Holy Spirit. In a word. Faith is to believe, that if we hear and do the words which Jesus spake, we shall be like the man who built his house upon the rock ; and in this confidence to OBEY. I know nothing plainer than the true use of Faith. It is enjoined wholly for its practical influences simply to aid and strengthen us to resist sin, and to en- courage us to frame ourselves after that Pereection of Character which shines forth in the precepts and example of Jesus. 2. Again, it is a common opinion, that Love to Christ has some special efficacy, that by this some higher end is accomplished in securing salvation than by a general obedience of his laws. Far be it from me to chill, in the slightest degree, the affection with which Christ is re- garded. I feel that he has not yet received from men the love which he deserves. Deeply should I rejoice to set forth with a new power his claims to our reverent esteem and joyful gratitude. But let not this regard to Christ be misundenstood. Especially let it not be separated in our thoughts from obedience to his Precepts, or be exalted in our esteem above general Rectitude. 'Phe truth is, the Love of Christ is but another name for the love of Virtue. It is not, as some seem to think, a kind of theological emotion — a mysterious fervour — distinct from moral integrity, from philanthropy, and from our duties to God and our neighbour. We err grievously if we imagine that our salvation is promoted by occasional ardour towards Christ, which subsists apart by itself in the heart — which does not blend with our ordinary feelings and our daily lives. The Character of Christ is Perfect Virtue. And consequently attachment to Christ, as I have just said, is but another name for attachment to Virtue. In this consists the excellence of Love of Jesus, that it is a love of the purest, loveliest, sublimest manifestation of Moral Excellence, and is our surest guide to the attain- ment of it. To love Jesus Christ is to love him in whom Human Virtue was revealed in its Perfection, and who came that he might communicate to us what was most perfect in his own mind. It is to love disinterestedness, self-sacrifice, and an unbounded charity. It is to love a will wholly purified from selfishness, and entirely conse- crated to the will and loving jnirposes of God. It is to love calmness, constancy, fortitude, and magnanimity. It is to love a sjiirit raised above the world, its frowns, its flatteries, its opinions, its prejudices, its most dreaded pains. It is to love him who gave himself for us that he might rescue us from all sin, and present us spotless to God. IMio does not see then that the Love of Christ is one and the same, with a consecration to what is good and great — with the desire of Perfection — with entire devotedness to doing God’s Will. 3. I am aware that the importance which I have now attached to the Precejits of Christianity must shock the common jirejudice — that the distinguishing excellence of the Gospel lies in its Pecueiar Doctrines. The doctrines of Christianity I should be the last to under- value. But I maintain that the.se Doctrines all bear directly on its Precepts, and are all designed to teach the supreme worth of Christian \'irtue. In this all their significance consists. Let me descend to a few par- ticulars. I am told by some Christians that the Doctrine of Immortality is the grand discovery of Christianity, and gives it its chief value. But, I ask, why is immortality revealed ? And I answer, it is revealed wholly as a motive to obedience. 'I'he Future State, which Jesus Christ brought to light, is a state of Eiiuitable Retribution, where those who do good will rise to glory and honour and peace, and those who do evil to shame, tribulation, and anguish. To believe in Immortality is to believe in the everlasting triumph and growth of Virtue ; and under this conviction to choose it as our Supreme Good. Again, some Christians will tell me that the Doctrine of Divine Forgiveness is the great glory of Christianity. But, I ask, to whom is Divine Forgiveness promised? 'I'o all indiscriminately. I fid Christ publish from his Cross absolute, unconditional jiardon ? Who does not know that throughout the whole teaching of the New I’esta- ment, repentance and remission of sins are always com- bined, and that the last is invariably used as a motive for the first? Who is forgiven in Christianity? The Pro- digal! Yes! But not whilst wasting his substance in riotous living; but when, heart-broken, conscience-struck, he returns to his father’s house. Our Father’s pardon was promised by Jesus to such as forsake sin and obey His Will; and this obedience is the End for which Divine Forgiveness is preached. Again, some Christians may tell me that the Doctrine of Salvation is the great doctrine of Christianity — more important than all its Precepts, and of more worth than all its incitements to Virtue. Salvation is a sublime doctrine; but what does it mean? According to the Scriptures, salvation is to be rescued from moral evil, from error and sin, from the diseases of the mind, and to be restored to inward truth, piety, and virtue. Con- sequently, Salvation and Christian Obedience are one and the same. Nor, indeed, can salvation be anything else. I know but one salvation for a sick man, and that is to give him health. So I know but one salvation for a bad PERFECT LIFE THE END OF CHRISTIANITY. man, and that is to make him truly, thoroughly, conscien- tiously good — to break the chains of his evil habits — to raise him to the dignity and peace of a true religious life. An intelligent and moral being is saved and blessed just so far as he chooses freely, fully, what is good, great, and god-like — as he adopts for his Rule the Will of God. I therefore repeat it : Salvation and Virtue are but different aspects of the same Supreme Good. But now I go one step further, and reach the very citadel of con- troversy. 4 . There are Christians who will tell me there is one Principle of the Gospel which constitutes its very essence, to which I have not even alluded, and which is of more importance to the human race than all Christ’s Precepts combined. This is Redemption by the Blood of the Cross. This Atonement, we are told, is the grand distinction of the Gospel; and all other parts of Chris- tianity hold but a subordinate place. “The Cross! the Cross! is the Centre of our Religion,” they say, “round which the Precepts and the Promises revolve, and from which all borrow light and life.” To “trust in the Cross” has a more immediate and important influence on our salvation, than to carry out in life, however perfectly, all Precepts of the Sermon on the Mount. To this I reply, that I prize the Cross and Blood of Christ as highly as any Christian can. In view of that Cross I desire ever to live; and of that Blood — in the spiritual sense — I desire ever to drink. I hope, as truly as any Christian ever did or could, to be saved by the Cross of Christ. But what do I mean by such language? Do I expect that the wood to which Christ was nailed is to save me? Do I expect that the blood which trickled from his wounds is to save me? Or do I expect this boon from his bodily agonies? No! By the cross and blood of Christ I mean nothing outward, nothing material. I mean the Spirit, the Character, the Love of Jesus, which his death made manifest, and which are pre-eminently fitted to bind me to him, and to make me a partaker of his virtues. I mean his Religion, which was sealed by his blood, and the Spirit of which shone forth most gloriously from his cross. I mean the great Principles for which he died, and which have for their sole end to purify human nature. According to these views, the blood and cross of Christ are the means of Christian Virtue. How then can they be exalted above that Virtue? I am astonished and appalled by the gross manner in which “ Christ’s Blood ” is often spoken of, as if his outward wounds and bodily sufferings could contribute to our salvation; as if aught else than his Spirit, his Truth, could redeem us. On other occasions we use the very words, which we thus apply to Christ, and use them rationally. How is it that in religion we so readily part with our com7)ion sensei For example, we often say that our liberty was purchased, and our country was saved, “ by the blood of Patriots.” And what do we mean? — that the material blood which gushed from their bodies, that their wounds, that their agonies, saved their country? No! We mean that we owe our freedom to men who loved their country more than life, and gladly shed their blood in its defence. By their blood we mean their patriotism — their devotion to freedom — approved in death. We mean their generous heroism, of which death was the crown. We mean the Principles for which they died, the Spirit which shone forth in their self-sacrifice, and which this sacrifice of their lives spread abroad and strengthened in the com- 51 munity. So by Christ’s Blood I understand his Spirit, his entire devotion to the cause of Human Virtue, and to the Will of God. By his Cross I mean his Celestial Love — I mean the great Principles of piety and righteous- ness — in asserting which he died. To be redeemed by his blood is to be redeemed by his Goodness. In other words, it is to be purified from all sin, and restored to all virtue, by the principles, the religion, the character, the all-conquering love of Jesus Christ. According to these views. Moral Purity, Christian Virtue, Spiritual Perfection, is the Supreme Good to be bestowed by the blood and cross of Christ. O ! that a voice of power could send this simple yet most sublime Truth to the utmost bounds of Christendom ! It is a truth mournfully and disastrously obscured. According to common views, the Death of Christ, instead of being the great quicke7ier of heroic virtue, is made a substitute for it ; and many hope to be happy through Christ’s dying agony, much more than through the participation of his Self-sacrificing Life. I doubt whether any error has done so much to rob Christianity of its purifying and ennobling power as these false views of Atonement. The Cross of Jesus — when supposed to bless us by some mysterious agency of reconciling God to us, and not by transforming our characters into the spirit and image of our Saviour — ■ becomes our peril, and may prove our ruin. Of one reality I am sure, and I speak it with entire confidence. I cannot receive from the Cross of Christ any good so great as that sublime Spirit of Self-sacrifice, of Love to God, and of unbounded Charity which the Cross so gloriously manifested. And they who seek not this, but seek, as they imagine, some mystical and mysterious good from Christ’s death, are mournfully blinded to the chief End of Christianity. I speak thus strongly, — not in arrogance, not in uncharitableness, — but because a great Truth, felt deeply, cannot utter itself feebly and tamely; because no language less emphatic would be just to the strongest convictions of my conscience, my reason, and my heart. HI. — My friends, I have stated in this discourse the Great Good which Jesus Christ came to spread through the earth — the highest benefit which he can confer. I know nothing of equal worth with Moral Excellence ; with an enlightened, powerful, disinterested and holy mind ; with a love to God which changes us into His likeness. I know nothing so important to us as the Perfection of our own Spirits. Perfect Goodness is the Supreme Good, — may I not say the only good I We often hear, indeed, of the Rewards of virtue, as if they were something separate from virtue, and virtue was but the means. But I am sure that Virtue itself is worth more than all outward rewards ; its truest recompense is found in itself, in its own growing vigour, in its own native peace, in the harmony which it establishes between our souls and God, in the .sym- pathy and friendship by which it identifies us with the Universe. So we hear of the Punishments of sin as if they were the greatest evils to be dreaded. But Sin, I am sure, is itself more terrible than all its consequences, more terrible than any hell ; and its chief misery is bound up in its own hateful nature. Of course, the only redemption of a human being is the recovery of his Spirit from moral evil, from whatever stains and debases it, to the purity, philanthropy, piety and perfectness of a Child of God, such as was manifested in the Beloved Son. To do the Will of our Heavenly Father — to form our- e 2 UNIVERSITY 01- ILLINOIS LIBRARY 52 THE CHURCH UNIVERSAL. selves after the purest Ideal of Goodness, which Nature, Conscience, Revelation present as a pattern — is the great work of earthly existence. This practical use of the Gospel is the only saving Faith in Jesus Christ. For we know him, and believe in him, only in so far as we recog- nise, love, and imitate the Perfection of his Character and Life. To prefer Universal Rectitude, the boundless Love of God and fellow-beings, the Perfect Life, before all other good, is the only true wisdom, is the only real worship. We know nothing of a Future World, unless we hear proceeding from it a Voice of Benediction that warns and welcomes us to enter now into that Purity, Integrity, Charity, Holiness, Peace, and Joy, which are the bliss of Heaven. THE CHURCH UNIVERSAL. Ephesians iv. 4: “ There is One Body, and One Spirit, even as ye are called in One Hope of your calling.” This passage declares the living Unity that will bind all Christians together, in proportion as they are filled with the Spirit of their Religion, and are joined vitally to their common Head. They constitute One Body. Christians are not distinct, separate, independent followers of Christ, each walking in a lonely path, living by an undisclosed faith, locking-up in the breast an unparticipated love. Christ came not merely to teach a Doctrine, but to establish a Church, to form a Religious Society, to organise a Spiritual Community. His religion was revealed to be a common possession, a common joy, a common ground of gratitude and praise, of sacrifice and work, for the whole Human Race. His religion was intended to be a world-wide cause, in which innumerable multitudes should be leagued ; which should be advanced by their united prayers, aspirations, toils, and sufferings ; which one age should transmit to another ; which should enlist men of a devout and disinterested spirit through all nations and times. Christ is not the leader of solitary Individuals. The titles given to him in the New Testa- ment imply the most close and endearing connections among those whom he calls his “ Friends.” Christ is the Head, and Christians are his Body — living members one of another. He is the Corner-stone, and they are a 'Temple — built on him as a foundation, gaining strength and proportion from the fit junction of its various ma- terials and parts. He is the Shepherd and they are the P'lock. Christianity is thus pre-eminently a Social Re- ligion,— disposing its disciples to joint services, awaken- ing the feeling of brotherhood, demanding concerted efforts for its development and diffusion, and, in a word, combining all believers into organic Unity in Spirit and in deed. 1. — It might be anticipated that a Religion coming from man’s Creator, -whose Essence is Love, should be a Social one. For man, by his very nature, is pre-eminently a Social Being. All the great developments of humanity are fulfilled through Society. Society surrounds us at our entrance into life, and its influences embrace us till the parting hour. The arms of fellow-beings receive us at birth, and enfold us at death. The first and last sounds we hear are human voices. Thus social ties entwine themselves about our whole existence from the cradle to the grave. The happiness experienced in loving and being loved, the enhanced joy which blessings derive from participa- tion, the resources which infancy and age, infirmity and disease, find in the affectionate sympathy, sustenance and strength of the home circle, the pleasures of friendly discourse and the solaces of fraternal confidence, the astonishing enterprises achieved by the union of thoughts and energies in communities and nations, the light of literature, art, science, law, religion, transmitted and brightened by transmission from mind to mind, and from age to age — countless benefits indeed, which there is no time to enumerate — attest the benignant purposes of our Heavenly Father in making us Social. The Influence of Society upon the character of its con- stituent members can hardly be over-stated. At times it even absorbs man’s free agency. Individuals are moulded by the community in which they live, almost passively, and unconsciously. What a striking example we have of the power of Society over individual persons in the unfailing transmission of national characteristics from generation to generation! In what ineradicable lines of feature and form, of temperament and tendency, is this influence graven ! What multiplied traces in physiognomy, and in intellectual and moral traits, does every man bear of the People among whom he has chanced to be born I Souls pour themselves, imperceptibly but copiously, into other souls. So swift, subtle, and strong is this spiritual com- merce between person and person, that a look or a tone is enough to reveal mind to mind, and to change the whole current of one another’s thoughts and emotions. Feelings which sleep within us in solitude, awaken into intense energy when manifested powerfully by those around us. And a multitude, by acting upon one another, are wrought into fervours either of generous enthusiasm or of indignant passion to which our nature under ordi- nary circumstance is wholly unequal. Again, there is a principle of expansion in the soul, an ardent thirst for great objects and wide sphere of affection and action, which, in all lands and times, manifests itself in magnanimous Patriotism. How this generous love of country overcomes the contracting influences of our present selfish stage of civilisation ! Every day we see men of no uncommon capacity or elevation of character devoted to the interests of the community in which they live, proud in its glory, exulting in its triumphs, humbled in its humiliations, wedded to its fortunes, sacrificing all private good for its advancement, clinging to it in peril, hazarding life in its defence. Reproach cast upon their nation stings them more keenly than personal insult. Its most distinguished lawgivers, heroes, and men of genius, though belonging to former ages, and consequently un- known, they exalt almost into divinities, and honour as if they were their own immediate ancestors. But even this devoted love of country is too narrow an emotion for the human soul. Man longs to live in the life of Humanity. Who does not know how even ordi- nary men are interested in fellow-creatures and events far beyond the boundaries of their particular community; THE CHURCH UNIVERSAL. 53 how their sympathies, aspirations, and hopes extend to and embrace whatever Man is doing and suffering over the face of the whole earth ? How do they become parties to conflicts of another hemisphere, confederates in heart with distant nations in their struggles and sacri- fices, and glad witnesses of the progress of freedom and civilisation throughout the world ! How the daily news- papers are devoured by thousands and millions of readers, not for selfish ends of gain, or to discover channels through which they may pursue profitable enterprises, but simply from sympathy with men of every kindred and name, and anxiety to learn the fortunes and fate of Human Nature, throughout the vast movements of man- kind ! This same interest in the whole Human Race gives popularity to books of travel, whereby many, who have trodden no soil but their natal one, in spirit circum- navigate the globe, and establish friendly and fraternal acquaintance with the inhabitants alike of the tropics and the poles. We have been speaking thus far of common men. But when we rise to contemplate superior minds, we find them peculiarly prompted to widen their sympathies indefinitely, and to form close alliance with their remotest brethren of the human race. Literary and Scientific men, scattered abroad through all nations, delight to multiply bonds of scholarly union ; learn eagerly one another’s languages ; liberally interchange thoughts and discoveries ; form societies of exploration, observation, and historical and critical inquiry, to which the most distant regions con- tribute members ; and rejoice in the progress of know- ledge as a common cause. And through this citizenship of learned men of all countries in one great Republic of Reason, Science is now enlarging its conquests with a rapidity unexampled in former times. In like manner, Benevolent men, especially those who are consecrated to the same philanthropic objects, delight to hear of the progress of Reforms in different nations; rejoice that the grand Schemes of Benevolence, to which they are de- voted, enlist friends and helpers far and wide ; and exult in the success of its most distant advocates, as truly as in their own. Above all, is this conscious communion, in the Life of Man Universal, profoundly felt in the sphere of Religion. So susceptible is our social nature, that the simple thought — that there are multitudes around the globe who unite in a common religious faith, hope, and charity — is all-animating like an inspiration. The devout man worships with new zeal, when he feels that innumerable kindred souls are made one with his, in the love of the “ One God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in all,” that this communion is not con- fined to our narrow world, but expands throughout all worlds into a glorious Temple, wherein God dwells ; that in his hymns of praise he is echoing the anthems of Angelic choirs ; that in his aspirations he is in unison with the emotions and joys of God’s countless Spiritual Family throughout the Universe; and that he is even now a living member of an Immortal Organisation, which is to grow ever more perfect, when the distinctions of nations, and even of humanity, will be dissolved in the love and joy of the holy and blessed Societies of Heaven. H. — And now let us consider more nearly the extent of this Unity in the Church Universal — how far it reaches, how many it embraces — in order that we may gain a correspondent largeness and elevation of views and affections, of hopes and principles of action. There is One Body and One Spirit. Christ has One Church, not many Churches. All Christians are com- prehended in One Community. However scattered, separated, and divided — in their fellowship with One Head, in their participation of One Faith and Spirit, they are attracted by a combining principle — which, though counteracted now, can never be destroyed; and which will ultimately manifest itself in blending all believers, visibly and indissolubly, into One. From the very nature of the Christian Religion — as a Religion of Love — • all who embrace it must be gathered into One Society. Christian Union cannot but be co-extensive with the Christian Religion, and diffused with it wherever it is spread. Such is the general doctrine of the text. 1. Now if all Christians constitute One Community only, then it is implied not merely that Christians of the different denominations, which are scattered through the world, are nearly connected with one another here below, but that Christians on Earth and Christians in Heaven are livingly bound in fellowship. Being equally united to Christ, these two classes are necessarily comprehended in that One Body, which is quickened by the One Spirit of adoption that animates the whole vast Family of the Children of God. Consequently they sustain most inti- mate relations with one another, instantly and every- where. It is common to speak of these two classes under the names of the Church Militant and the Church Trium- phant. But these words merely denote the respective circumstances, amidst which different members of the same Community are for a season placed. The Church Militant and the Church Triumphant are One Church ; and the time is approaching in which these distinctions shall vanish away, and when all Christ’s followers, crowned with the same triumph, shall be gathered into the same Visible Communion, around their common exalted Head. This doctrine is announced in a passage of singular magnificence and elevation, both of thought and language, in the Epistle to the Hebrews, where the writer says : — “Ye are come unto Mount Sion, and unto the city of the Living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innu- merable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the first-born whose names are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect.” In other words, by unity of soul with Christ’s Church, we are admitted into a real Communion of Saints, tender and confidential, which will gain strength and largeness as we and they advance towards celestial excellence. 2. If we consider, first the position of Christians in Heaven, — who through life were devoutly interested in the growth of holiness and love among Christ’s followers, — it is utterly incredible that they should cast off at death this form of benevolence, as if it were worth no more than the perishable body. Eor what is the Heaven, into which they have entered, but the Perfection of Charity, the un- broken harmony of all good affections ? Although we may well suppose that ties of a mere earthly nature will fall from the purified spirit, yet attachments founded in piety and goodness cannot but gather vigour as souls mature in the Perfect Life. This doctrine of the enduring sympathy felt by Christians in Heaven for Christians on Earth, should be placed beyond doubt, if we believe that Christ’s disciples ascend at death into immediate personal intercourse with him. You remember how Paul says, that “ to be absent from the body is to be present with the 54 THE CHURCH UNIVERSAL. Lord.” Christians are not present with our Saviour merely as we are with one another ; for in the future state the access of mind to mind must undoubtedly be nearer than on earth. They have a communion with his Spirit, such as the closest friendship does not allow among imperfect men. Friendship is the affection that predomi- nates in the mind of Jesus. Friendship is his very soul. \\'e are assured that, in his present glorified state, the same magnanimous love, which upheld him in the agonies of crucifixion, flows out continually towards his followers on earth, and is manifested in perpetual efforts for their progress and their final and complete redemption. Christians in Heaven look with new clearness of spiritual vision into the depth of this Love of Christ “ which passeth knowledge,” until they too become “ filled with the fulness of God.” And can we imagine, that em- bosomed within this Divine Compassion, which is always descending from Heaven to earth, and living in the midst of the warm and attractive beams of this all- embracing Charity, they can shake off concern for the Church below ? Through closer adherence to the Head, can they become severed from the members, who are so dear and near to him as to be called “ flesh of his flesh ” ? I doubt not that Christians, who enter the Spiritual AVorld, and attain to freedom from the alloy of selfishness, which tarnished their charity on earth, glow with a love of which we in our mortal state cannot distinctly conceive. We may gain a glimpse of it from the image given, when it is said, that “ they shall shine as the Sun,” that radiant minister of the Most High, who dwells in light. Who indeed can su[)pose that good men at death will grow cold to the Church, in the bosom of which they were them- selves nurtured and bred for the heavenly community ; that the martyrs who loved it more than life, and rose to heaven through flames endured in its defence, should part with that zeal for its welfare to which they owe their crowns of glory ? I'he fire of persecution could not con- sume, but only refined and e.xalted this divine zeal. I am jjersuaded that it is a great, however common an error, to conceive of the departed as so absorbed in their new mode of being as to forget their former one. To sujrpose them forgetful of the world, where they began to live, is to make that life worthless, and to blot out a volume of invaluable experience. To think of them as regarding this world with indifference, when it was the scene of their Master’s life, and still bears the impress of his footsteps ; when it is associated so intimately with the manifestation of his character and is the object of his per- petual care, is to make them dead to his glorious design of good. Undoubtedly they think of our world with very different feelings from those which it once excited. To them its splendours have paled amidst the brightness of their new abode. The competitions and strifes of men for a day’s pre-eminence seem to them childish, as well as sinful. This world’s grand interest to them is as the birthplace of Immortal Minds, as the school where they are trained for Heaven. But as such it is infinitely precious, and they regard it with intense concern. In these views we discover a peculiarity, and a supremely honourable one, of the relationship formed by Christianity among its disciples. It is a perpetual and ever-growing relationship. The toils and sufferings for a Nation, — which has its date and is hastening to its appointed term; which is soon to be joined, in its decline and fall, with past and almost forgotten empires, — may fade from the mind of the patriot. Death may break the bond which joined him to it, and put an end not only to his efforts for its welfare, but to his sympathies in its fate. But not so can it be with the Christian. I.abourer and sufferer for the Church Universal as he has been on earth, his energies are consecrated to an Immortal Cause ; to the interests of a Community which will outlive sun and stars ; and which, being of heavenly origin, tends towards and will be jicrfected in Heaven. Death cannot take him out of this Church, nor in the least degree loosen his connections with it. On the contrary, he goes to join the triumiihant, purified, blessed portion of this Community, among whom his affections for his militant brethren here, instead of being extinguished, will gain new fervour. In regard to the methods in which Christians in the Spiritual World manifest their affections towards Christians on Earth, — in regard to the services and assistances they render, — I shall not attempt to speak. The doctrine, that they come to mortals as ministers of mercy ; that in this mission they do the work of angels whom they re- semble ; — though reason in no way opposes it, and the heart welcomes it, — must be held, with a degree of uncer- tainty, as forming no part of revelation. But there is one office, by which the Risen and Glorified hold an active, beneficent, connection with the Church on earth, of which we cannot doubt, ^^’ith Christ’s example before them, who is ever interceding for man, — and with the privilege of nearer access to God than they could enjoy in the body, — can we ejuestion that in their petitions they remember their tempted brethren, who are fighting that fight, of which by experience they know the toil and pain? Having prayed for the Church till their last breath, can we imagine that in their })resent exalted state, where inter- cession must be more effectual because springing from a I)urer heart, they should not mingle with their worship this high duty? Why should we think that prayer is confined to earth, or that its power of airjjeal can be weakened in heaven ? Are Christians there denied tlie privilege, which is granted here, of invoking God’s blessing on friends and brethren? For one, I doubt not that among the joyful praises of angels is heard a voice, less rapturous, but more tender, of affectionate inter- cession. Perhaps we shall hereafter find that no incense rises more acceptably before God’s throne, than the Ijrayers of Saints for their afflicted and endangered brethren in this state of probation. Thus have I given one illustration of the living ties between Christians in Heaven and Christians on Earth. 3. In the next place, how does the Christian on earth contribute his part to this union? I answer, by recollec- tion and by hoi)e; by looking back to the lives and characters of departed Saints while they were inhabitants of this world; and by anticipating joyfully their society in the world to come. The Christian, imbued with the spirit of his religion, maintains communion by grateful remembrance with those who have gone before him, and especially with the more illustrious, whose holy services and sacrifices for the Church have crowned them with haloes of honour. He does not regard his Religion merely as a blessing of the present moment, but studies with profoundest interest its past history. He remembers that it has come down to him through a long procession of ages, and that it has been transmitted through the professions, sufferings, prayers, and virtues of millions, THE CHURCH UNIVERSAL. 55 who have lived and died for it before his birth. He delights to think of his Religion under the similitude which Jesus gave, of a seed sown upon earth centuries ago, and to trace its growth — nourished, as it has been, with tears and sweat, the blood and anxious care, of the holiest persons in the records of the past. To the true Christian no history is so affecting as that of the Church Universal. His soul unites with the pure and pious, who have clung to it in danger; who have fought beneath the banner of the Cross with spiritual weapons; who have conquered the powers of evil by self-sacrifice, suffering, and death. The Apostle, bearing Christian truth through rude and barbarous nations to the ends of the earth, armed with the spirit of all-enduring and all-conquering love, rises before him, — high above conspicuous heroes and legislators, — as the most majestic and commanding form of human nature in the dim regions of antiquity. He feels his personal debt to the faith and loyalty of these tried followers of Christ, and blesses them for those labours of which he daily reaps the fruits. Thus, by memory, we have connection as truly with the Saints risen in glory, as we have with those yet dwelling here. Though dead, they still speak to us. And happy is it for us when we open our minds to the influences of the departed, and form intimacies with the great and good who have pre- ceded us into the world of peace ! The Risen and Glorified thus speak to us from distant regions and remote ages. But they speak also from nearer times and more familiar scenes. Indeed, there is no place in our own communities and homes which is not conse- crated by their blessed images. How we delight to remember their excellences ; their superiority to this world’s gifts ; their uncorrupted simplicity ; the moder- ation with which they enjoyed, the liberality with which they imparted ; the conscientiousness with which they regarded themselves as the stewards of Divine munifi- cence ! The periods of their history to which affection most gladly recurs are those in which they manifested strength of principle that never faltered, and fulness of love that never failed ; when their countenances glowed with lofty disinterestedness and unconquerable trust in God. What an assured conviction do we feel of the perpetuity and immortality of such noble forms of goodness ! What a certainty cheers us that these friends have ascended to a brighter world, when the serene spirit of that world had dawned upon their faces even in their earthly state ! But when the Good leave us, it is not only to the more signal portions of their history that memory returns. We rejoice indeed to recall acts which deserved and won general admiration. But how delightful is it also to remember gentle, quiet, ceaseless virtues, which found their sphere in the seclusion of home, and spread a softened light through the privacy of domestic life ; which perhaps no eye but our own witnessed, revealing to us a depth of piety and love such as no public conduct could display ? How soothing are the recollections of the constancy of affection, that made sacrifices without knowing that they were such ; which stifled its own griefs that it might not add to those of others ; which bore the infirmities of friends as though it never saw them ! How blessed is the remembrance of the unpretending devout- ness, that made no outward profession, but mingled itself calmly and quietly with the whole tenour of thought and action, and shone forth steadily in resignation, persevering duty, and unostentatious love ! The influence of the Good and Holy on the present world is thus not limited to their living in it. When are they so lovely, so winning, so powerful to guide and quicken, as after death has withdrawn them from us? Then we feel that the seal is set upon what was made Perfect in their souls. No more can they be sullied by contact with the earth. They take their place like stars in a region of purity and peace. They come to our thoughts clad in the light of celestial sanctity and sweet- ness. Shall we not follow them in thought to their high dwelling-place, and learn from them even diviner wisdom than they taught on earth ? Let us believe, too, that they carry with them all their . recollections of the loved whom they have left behind. This earth, where they began the development of their moral being — where they first heard the voice of con- science, felt their first love, fought their first conflicts, won their first triumphs — must ever be endeared to them by most affecting associations. The friends who blessed them, and the friends whom they blessed, can never be banished from their minds. 'Prue, for a season they have parted from us ; but they cannot forget us. The hearts which have felt for us so long, feel for us yet, more tran- quilly indeed, but more profoundly. They love us still. We are objects of a holier interest than ever. And that interest is strengthened, in proportion as we grow in resemblance to the Ascended and Glorified, and fitter for their companionship. But the Christian not only maintains a connection with his Brethren in Heaven by grateful recollections of their virtues. Still more closely is he bound to them by hope. He does not remember them as embalmed in history, to be known only through the records of tradition. They still live., and are members of the same Organic Body with himself. Already he feels a brotherhood with them. He is bound to them by more than distant admiration, even by close and cordial friendship. Eagerly he antici- pates a future existence, because he shall meet there the venerable dead, with whose Spirits, still animating their biographies, histories, and works, he now communes. He rejoices to think of soon hearing, seeing, and holding familiar intercourse with inspired Prophets and holy Poets, with Philanthropists and Sages, with Scholars and Artists, with great-hearted Heroes of common life, whose characters and deeds have nourished in him pure purposes and lofty aspirations ; and he is elevated towards their sublime height by these soaring expectations. The space that sunders him from them is daily growing narrower ; and his present faint conceptions of them will soon change into clear, full, intimate, personal acquaintance. Steadfast in faith, he trusts that they will receive and glady incorporate him into their society. Nor does he thus trust without good grounds. Is there joy among the Angels over a sinner who by repentance begins the Christian race, and can we doubt that the arrival m heaven of a spirit, which has finished its warfare and gained the immortal crown, is blissful intelligence and an event of transporting joy to its benevolent Communities ? This is indeed a glorious and glorifying hope, that we shall be greeted with welcome by the revered and illus- trious, the humble and gentle, who have gone before us into the world of light. But let us not fear to yield to this high hope. For the Fir.st among many Brethren will count his work unfinished until his prayer shall be fulfilled, that all who love and believe in him shall be one with him, and with one another, as he and his Father are one, and that where he is they shall be also. THE CHURCH UNIVERSAL. 56 While speaking thus of the union between Christians on Earth and Christians in Heaven by hope, let me avow that my own impressions on this subject were much strengthened by visiting Catholic lands. I am aware that this admission may breed suspicion of the soundness of my views. But we ought not to doubt that among the corruptions of the Catholic Church there are rich relics of primitive truth. The zeal of the Reformation, too im- petuous and unsparing, rejected many princii)les and usages, which deserve our respect and imitation. The Catholic Church, it is well known, is distinguished by the ardent veneration with which it cherishes the memory and seeks the friendship of departed Saints. And notwith- standing the superstitions grafted upon this branch of their religion, they have done wisely in striving to multiply these germs from the Tree of Life, by perpetuating the examples of holy men and women, to whom Christianity was so largely indebted in its spring-time. I entered these countries with much of that indifference which has grown up among Protestants, through dread of Catholic abuses. But when, by the help of statuary and painting, my attention was awakened, and my mind brought to act on Christ’s faithful followers in the early ages of the Church ; when I beheld the celestial loveliness of his mother Mary ; and especially when I contemplated the Martyr in his last hour, and saw, mysteriously mingled with the agonies of excruciating death, bright beams of immortal joy, indomitable trust, calm constancy, heroic courage, and meek forgiving charity — I felt the claim of these primitive disciples to our grateful love as never before. I felt that, by death so endured, they had sent forth an influence to quicken all future times, and that they had become what they now are, everlasting members of that Community of the Blessed to which I, too, asj)irc to belong. I rejoiced in being one with them by devotion to the same Head, and though now far separated in time, I longed one day to thank them for their loyalty to that Clorious Gospel which has brightened all my hopes. HI. — My friends, I should not have insisted so long upon this Communion between Christians in Heaven and Christians on Earth, did I not think this truth an eminently practical one. To many no lessons seem practical, except the minute inculcations of common duties. But, in fact, the most practical views in religion are those which awaken the loftiest sentiments and touch the noblest springs of action. And the subject now dis- cussed is peculiarly fitted to give life and energy to our convictions of the Spiritual World, and to lift our minds above the sordid mood into which they are so prone to sink. The attraction of Heaven lies in the Beings who reside there. Aud whilst the thought of the Presence of God is enough to inflame intense desire, yet we are greatly aided by conceiving of Our Father’s House as the mansion of all the excellent, whose lives have sancti- 5ed the earth. In proportion, as in thought, we com- mune with this “Assembly and Church of the Firstborn,” we learn to revere our own spiritual capacities, which can alone fit us for such high society. Unhappily speculations of this nature seem, to many, not only wanting in practical utility, but as unreal fictions of the fancy. Whatever goes beyond our present expe- rience passes with such for visionary and romantic. The Spiritual orld is to them a void ; and the idea of Higher Orders of Beings, thougli so plainly revealed in Scripture, and attested by all 1 raditions, gains from them merely a half sceptical assent. But if Revelation be worthy of any credit, the intercourse between Heaven and Earth is most close and constant. Jesus Christ, Risen and Glorified, — who once lived here below, — now lives on high, not as an unconcerned Spectator, but as a mighty Agent for the good of the whole human race. Angels, commissioned by his boundless love, he sends forth to minister to all heirs of salvation. Near him are Christiaris, who, departed from this world in faith, now sympathise and co-work with him in promoting the growth of his ever-expanding Community. And to the mind that can shake off the clogs of earth, and freely exercise its spiritual j^owers, these views will appear to be as sober and rational as they are joyful and exalting. How unparalleled in dignity is the Church Universal, as we have now contemj)lated it ! In extent it surpasses all other communities, gathering in its wide embrace Spirits made Perfect around the throne of God, Holy ]\Ien in heaven, and the Children of the Father througli- out all nations. And as to duration, not only has it withstood the shocks of ages — outlasting Empires and States amidst which it has been ])lanted, and still flourish- ing with perennial growth while they decay — but it is ai)pointed to survive the present order of the Natural ^Vorld, and to be transformed from glory to glory in regions of the Universe beyond all adverse change. How cheering is this confidence that we arc even now citizens of a Kingdom that can nev'er be moved, members of a Community that is organised by a principle of Im- perishable Life ! AVhen, by an act of faith and hope, we transport our- selves into the world where Human Nature is redeemed from every sin and woe, and there behold the good, the just, the wise, the lovely, trained in all regions and ages — a multitude which no man can number — exalted to new life, new jrowers, new friendships, new prospects of the immense creation, and new ministers of love in co- operation with higher beings and with God, — then does the awful grandeur of Immortality open before us ; then do we feel, with devout gratitude, that this birth-place and school for Spirits is worthy of its Divine Author, and of its sublime consummation. “ Compassed about by this great cloud of Witnesses,” let us with firm and cheerful trust endure all trials, dis- charge all duties, accept all sacrifices, fulfil the law of universal and impartial love, and adopt as our own that cause of truth, righteousness, humanity, liberty and holi- ness, — which, being the cause of the All-Good, cannot but triumph over all powers of evil. Let us rise into blest assurance that everywhere and for ever we are enfolded, penetrated, guarded, guided, kept by the power of the Father and Friend, who can never forsake us ; and that all Spirits who have begun to seek, know, love, and serve the All Perfect one on earth, shall be re-united in a Celestial Home, and be welcomed together into the Freedom of the Universe, and the Perpetual Light of His Presence. PART II. ESSAYS, DISCOURSES, INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. The following tracts, having passed through various editions at home and abroad, are now collected to meet the wishes of those who may incline to possess them in a durable form. In common with all writings which have obtained a good degree of notice, they have been criticised freely; but as they have been published, not to dictate opinions, but to excite thought and inquiry, they have not failed of their end, even when they have provoked doubt or reply. They have, I think, the merit of being earnest expressions of the writer’s mind, and of giving the results of quiet, long-continued thought. Some topics will be found to recur often — perhaps the reader may think too often; but it is in this way that a writer manifests his individuality, and he can in no other do justice to his own mind. Men are distinguished from one another, not merely by difference of thoughts, but often more by the different degrees of relief or prominence which they give to the same thoughts. In nature, what an immense dissimilarity do we observe in organised bodies, which consist of the same parts or elements, but in which these are found in great diversity of proportions ! So, to learn what a man is, it is not enough to dissect his mind, and see separately the thoughts and feelings which successively possess him. The question is, what thoughts and feelings predominate, stand out most distinctly, and give a hue and impulse to the common actions of his mind? What are his great ideas? These form the man, and by their truth and dignity he is very much to be judged. The following writings will be found to be distinguished by nothing more than by the high estimate which they express of human nature. A respect for the human soul breathes through them. The time may come for unfold- ing my views more fully on this and many connected topics. As yet, I have given but fragments; and, on this account, I have been sometimes misapprehended. The truth is, that a man, who looks through the present dis- guises and humbling circumstances of human nature, and speaks with earnestness of what it was made for, and what it may became, is commonly set down by men of the’ world as a romancer, and, what is far worse, by the religious, as a minister to human pride, perhaps as exalt- ing man against God. A few remarks on this point seem, therefore, a proper introduction to these volumes. It is not, however, my purpose in this place to enter far into the consideration of the greatness of human nature, and of its signs and expressions in the inward and outward experience of men. It will be sufficient here to observe that the greatness of the soul is especially seen in the intellectual energy which discerns absolute, universal truth, in the idea of God, in freedom of will and moral power, in disinterestedness and self-sacrifice, in the boundlessness of love, in aspirations after perfection, in desires and affections, which time and space cannot confine, and the world cannot fill. The soul, viewed in these lights, should fill us with awe. It is an immortal germ, which may be said to contain now within itself what endless ages are to unfold. It is truly an image of the infinity of God, and no words can do justice to its grandeur. There is, however, another and very different aspect of our nature. When we look merely at what it now is, at its present development, at what falls under present consciousness, we see in it much of weakness and limitation, and still more, we see it narrowed and degraded by error and sin. This is the aspect under which it appears to most men, and so strong is the common feeling of human infirmity, that a writer, holding higher views, must state them with caution if he would be listened to without prejudice. My language, I trust, will be suffi- ciently measured, as my object at present is not to set forth the greatness of human nature, but to remove diffi- culties in relation to it in the minds of religious people. From the direction which theology has taken, it has been thought, that to ascribe anything to man, was to detract so much from God. The disposition has been, to establish striking contrasts between man and God, and not to see and rejoice in the likeness between them. It has been thought, that to darken the creation was the way to bring out more clearly the splendour of the Creator. The human being has been subjected to a stern criticism. It has been forgotten that he is as yet an infant, new to existence, unconscious of his powers ; and he has been expected to see clearly, walk firmly, and act perfectly. Especially in estimating his transgressions, the chief * We would here note that the celebrity of Channing, and the immense influence of his writings throughout the civilised world, have been achieved through the diffusion of these Essays, Discourses, &c. , which form the second part of this v'olume. All who carefully read the articles in this series will be impressed, not only with the beauty of the compositions, but with the spiritual power which reaches the heart, and that clears religion of all obscurity, and so perfects life. Men and women, in every country and every rank, have openly acknowledged their great indebtedness, their better life and happiness, to the study of the works of Channing. Many, who have left their mark in their different Churches, have spoken of these writings, which we now wish to be in the hands of the whole of the people, as having formed a new and better epoch in their history. We name these things, in the introduction to the second part of this volume, because the remarks apply to this section of the book. And we would urge upon all those who are interested in the religious life of their children, and of neighbours and others, to do what they can to promote an earnest and frequent reading of these discourses, which are now so accessible. 58 IXTROD UCTOR i ' RRJ/JRRS. regard has been had, not to his finite nature and present stage of development, but to the infinity of the Being against whom he had sinned ; so that Clod’s greatness, instead of being made a ground of hope, has been used to plunge man into despair. I have here touched on a great spring of error in religion, and of error among the most devout. I refer to the tendency of fervent minds to fix their thoughts ex- clusively or unduly on Clod's infinity. It is said, in devotional writings, that exalted and absorbing views of Clod enter into the very essence of piety ; that our grand j labour should be, to turn the mind from the creature to ! the Creator ; that the creature cannot sink too low in our estimation, or God fill too high a sphere. Clod, we are i told, must not be limited ; nor are his rights to be restrained by any rights in his creatures. 'J'hese are made I to minister to their Maker’s glory, not to glorify them- I selves. They wholly depend on Him, and have no power which they can call their own. His sovereignty, awful and omnipotent, is not to be kept in check, or ] turned from its purposes, by any claims of his subjects. Man’s place is the dust. The entire prostration of his | faculties is the true homage he is to offer Clod. He is not to exalt his reason or his sense of right against the decrees of the Almighty. He has but one lesson to learn — that he is nothing ; that God is All in All. Such is the common language of theology. These views are exceedingly natural. That the steady, j earnest contemplation of the Infinite One should so dazzle ' the mind as to obscure or annihilate all things else, ought not to surprise us. By looking at the sun, we lose the power of seeing other object.s. It was, I conceive, one ‘ design of God in hiding Himself so far from us, in throw- i ing around Himself the veil of his works, to prevent this very evil. He intended that our faculties should be left at liberty to act on other things besides Himself, that the will should not be crushed by his overpowering greatness, that we should be free agents, that we should recognise rights in ourselves and in others as well as in the Creator, and thus be introduced into a wide and ever enlarging sphere of action and duty. Still the idea of the Infinite is of vast power, and the mind, in surrendering itself to it, i is in danger of becoming unjust to itself and other beings, j of losing that sentiment of self-respect, which should be inseparable from a moral nature, of degrading the in- tellect by the forced belief of contradictions which God is supposed to sanction, and of losing that distinct consciousness of moral freedom, of power over itself, * without which the interest of life and the sense of duty are gone. Let it not be imagined from these remarks, that I would turn the mind from God’s infinity. This is the grand truth ; but it must not stand alone in the mind, d'he finite is something real as well as the infinite. We must reconcile the two in our theology. It is as dangerous to exclude the former as the latter. God surpasses all human thought ; yet human thought, mysterious, un- bounded, “ wandering through eternity,” is not to be contemned. God’s sovereignty is limitless ; still man has rights. God’s power is irresistible ; still man is free. On God we entirely depend ; yet we can and do act from our- selves, and determine our own characters. These antagonist ideas, if so they may be called, are equally true, and neither can be spared. It will not do for an impassioned or an abject piety to wink one class of them out of sight. In a healthy mind they live together ; and I the worst error in religion has arisen from throwing a part I of them into obscurity. In most religious systems, the tendency has been to seize e.xclusively on the idea of the Infinite, and to sacri- [ fice to this the finite, the created, the human. This I I have said is very natural. To the eye of sense, man is such a mote in the creation, his imperfections and sins are so prominent in his history, the changes of his life are so sudden, so awful, he vanishes into such darkness, the mystery of the tomb is so fearful, all his outward pos- sessions are so fleeting, the earth which he treads on so insecure, and all surrounding nature subject to such fearful revolutions, that the reflective and sensitive mind is prone to see Nothingness inscribed on the human being and on all things that are made, and to rise to God as the only reality. Another more influential feeling contributes to the same end. The mind of man, in its present infancy and blindness, is apt to grow servile through fear, and seeks to propitiate the Divine Being by flattery and self- depreciation. d'hus deep arc the springs of religious error. To admit all the elements of truth into our system, at once to adore the infinity of God and to give due importance to our own free moral nature, is no very easy work. But it must be done. Man’s free activity is as important to religion as God’s infinity. In the kingdom of Heaven, the moral power of the subject is as essential as the omni- potence of the sovereign. 'I'he rights of both have the same sacredness. To rob man of his dignity is as truly to subvert religion as to strip God of his [)crfection. We must believe in man’s agency as truly as in the I )ivine, in his freedom as truly as in his dependence, in his individual being as truly as in the great doctrine of his living in God. Just as far as the desire of exalting the Divinity obscures these concejkions, our religion is sublimated into mysticism or degraded into servility. In the Oriental world, the human mind has tended strongly to fix on the idea of the Infinite, the Vast, the Incomprehensible. In its speculations it has started from God. Swallowed up in his grcatnes.s, it has annihilated the creature. Perfection has been thought to lie in self- oblivion, in losing one’s self in the Divinity, in esta- blishing e.xclusive communion with God. The mystic worshipper fled from society to wildernesses, where not even nature’s beauty might divert the soul from the Unseen, laving on roots, sleeping on the rocky floor of his cave, he hoped to absorb himself in the One and the Infinite. 'I'he more the consciousness of the individual was lost, and the more the will and the intellect became passive or yielded to the universal soul, the more perfect seemed the piety. From such views naturally sprung Pantheism. No being was at last recognised but God. He was pronounced the only reality. 'I'he universe seemed a succession of shows, shadows, evanescent manifestations of the One Ineffable Essence. The human spirit was but an ema- nation, soon to be reabsorbed in its source. God, it was said, bloomed in the flower, breathed in the wind, flowed in the stream, and thought in the human soul. All our powers were but movements of one infinite force. Under the deceptive spectacle of multiplied individuals intent on various ends, there was but one agent. Life, with its endless changes, was but the heaving of one and the same eternal ocean. This mode of thought naturally gave birth or strength to that submission to despotic power, which has charac- terised the Eastern world. The sovereign, in whom the INTROD UCTOR V REMARKS. 59 whole power of the state was centred, became an emblem of the One Infinite Power, and was worshipped as its repre- sentative. An unresisting quietism naturally grew out of the contemplation of God as the all-absorbing and irresistible energy. Man, a bubble, arising out of the ocean of the universal soul, and fated soon to vanish in it again, had plainly no destiny to accomplish, which could fill him with hope or rouse him to effort. In the East the individual was counted nothing. In Greece and Rome he was counted much, and he did much. In the Greek and the Roman the consciousness of power was indeed too little chastened by religious reverence. Their gods were men. Their philosophy, though in a measure borrowed from or tinctured with the Eastern, still spoke of man as his own master, as having an independent happiness in the energy of his own will. As far as they thus severed themselves from God, they did themselves great harm ; but in their recognition, however imperfect, of the grandeur of the soul, lay the secret of their vast influence on human affairs. In all ages of the church, the tendency of the religious mind to the exclusive thought of God, to the denial or forgetfulness of all other existence and power, has come forth in various forms. The Catholic Church, notwith- standing its boasted unity, has teemed with mystics who have sought to lose themselves in God. It would seem as if the human mind, cut off by this church from free, healthful inquiry, had sought liberty in this vague con- templation of the Infinite. In the class just referred to were found many noble spirits, especially E^nelon, whose quietism, with all its amiableness, we must look on as a disease. In Protestantism, the same tendency to exalt God and annihilate the creature has manifested itself, though in less pronounced forms. We see it in Quakerism, and Calvinism, the former striving to reduce the soul to silence, to suspend its action, that in its stillness God alone may be heard ; and the latter making God the only power in the universe, and annihilating the free will, that one will alone may be done in heaven and on earth. Calvinism will complain of being spoken of as an approach to Pantheism. It will say, that it recognises distinct minds from the Divine. But what avails this, if it robs these minds of self-determining force, of original activity ; if it makes them passive recipients of the Universal Force; if it sees in human action only the necessary issues of foreign impulse ? The doctrine that God is the only Substance, which is Pantheism, differs little from the doctrine that God is the only active power of the universe. For what is substance without power? It is a striking fact, that the philosophy which teaches that matter is an inert substance, and that God is the force which pervades it, has led men to question whether any such thing as matter exists ; whether the powers of attraction and repulsion, which are regarded as the in- dwelling Deity, be not its whole essence. Take away force, and substance is a shadow, and might as well vanish from the universe. Without a free power in man, he is nothing. The divine agent within him is everything. Man acts only in show. He is a phenomenal existence, under which the One Infinite Power is manifested ; and is this much better than Pantheism ? One of the greatest of all errors is the attempt to exalt God, by making Him the sole cause, the sole agent in the universe, by denying to the creature freedom of will and moral power, by making man a mere recipient and transmitter of a foreign impulse. This, if followed out consistently, destroys all moral connection between God and his creatures. In aiming to strengthen the physical, it ruptures the moral bond which holds them together. To extinguish the free will is to strike the conscience with death, for both have but one and the same life. It destroys responsibility. It puts out the light of the universe ; it makes the universe a machine. It freezes the fountain of our moral feelings of all generous affection and lofty aspirations. Patheism, if it leave man a free agent, is a comparatively harmless speculation ; as we see in the case of Milton. The denial of moral freedom, could it really be believed, would prove the most fatal of errors. If Edwards’s work on the Will could really answer its end, if it could thoroughly persuade men that they were bound by an irresistible necessity, that their actions were fixed links in the chain of destiny, that there was but one agent, God, in the universe; it would be one of the most pernicious books ever issued from our press. Happily it is a demonstration which no man believes, which the whole consciousness contradicts. It is a fact worthy of serious thought and full of solemn instruction, that many of the worst errors have grown out of the religious tendencies of the mind. So necessary is it to keep watch over our whole nature, to subject the highest sentiments to the calm, conscientious reason. Men starting from the idea of God, have been so dazzled by it, as to forget or misinterpret the universe. They have come to see in Him the only force in creation, and in other beings only signs, shadows, echoes of this. Absolute dependence is the only relation to God which they have left to human beings. Our infinitely nobler relations, those which spring from the power of free obedience to a moral law, their theory dissolves. The moral nature, of which freedom is the foundation and essence, which confers rights and imposes duties, which is the ground of praise and blame, which lies at the foun- dation of self-respect, of friendship between man and man, of spiritual connection between man and his Maker, which is the spring of holy enthusiasm and heavenly aspiration, which gives to life its interest, to creation its glory, this is annihilated by the mistaken piety, which, to exalt God, to make Him All in All, immolates to Him the powers of the universe. This tendency, as we have seen, gave birth in former ages to asceticism, drove some of the noblest men into cloisters or caverns, infected them with the fatal notion that there was an hostility between their relations to God and their relations to his creatures, and of course per- suaded them to make a sacrifice of the latter. To this we owe systems of theology degrading human nature, denying its power and grandeur, breaking it into sub- jection to the priest, through whom alone God is supposed to approach the abject multitude, and placing human virtue in exaggerated humiliations. The idea of God, the grandest of all, and which ought, above all, to elevate the soul, has too often depressed it and led good minds very far astray, a consideration singularly fitted to teach us tolerant views of error, and to enjoin caution and sobriety in religious speculation. I hope that I shall not be thought wanting in a just tolerance, in the strictures now offered on those systems of theology and philosophy, which make God the only power in the universe and rob man of his dignity. Among the authors of these may be found some of the greatest 6o INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. and best men. To this class belonged Hartley, whose work on Man carries indeed the taint of materialism and necessity, but still deserves to be reckoned among the richest contributions ever made to the science of mind, whilst it breathes the profoundest piety. Our own Edwards was as eminent for religious as for intellectual power. The consistency of great error with great virtue is one of the lessons of universal history. But error is not made harmless by such associations. The false theories of which I have spoken, though not thoroughly believed, have wrought much evil. They have done much, I think, to perpetuate those abject views of human nature, which keep it where it is, which check men’s aspirations, and reconcile them to their present poor modes of thought and action as the fixed, unalterable laws of their being. Many religious people fall into the error, which I have wished to expose, through the belief that they thus glorify the Creator. “ The glory of God,” they say, “ is our chief end and this is accomplished, as they suppose, by taking all power from man and transferring all to his Maker. We have here an example of the injury done by imperfect apprehension, and a vague, misty use of Scrip- ture language. The “glory of God ” is undoubtedly to be our end; but what does this consist in? It means the shining forth of His perfection in His creation, especially in His spiritual offspring; and it is best promoted by awakening in these their highest faculties, by bringing out in ourselves and others the image of God in which all are made. An enlightened, disinterested human being, morally strong, and exerting a wide influence by the power of virtue, is the clearest reflection of the divine splendour on earth; and we glorify God in proportion as we form ourselves and others after this model. 'I'he glory of the Maker lies in His work. We do not honour Him by breaking down the human soul, by connecting it with Him only by a tie of slavish dependence. By making Him the author of a mechanical universe, we ascribe to Him a low kind of agency. It is His glory that He creates beings like Himself, free beings, not slaves; that He forms them to obedience, not by physical agency, but by moral influences; that He confers on them the reality, not the show of power; and opens to their faith and devout strivings a futurity of progress and glory without end. It Is not by darkening and dishonouring the creature, that we honour the Creator. Those men glorify God most who look with keen eye and loving heart on His works, who catch in all some glimpses of beauty and power, who have a spiritual sense for good in its dimmest manifestations, and who can so interpret the world that it becomes a bright witness to the Divinity. To such remarks as these it is commonly objected, that we thus obscure, if we do not deny, the doctrine of Entire Dependence on God, a doctrine which is believed to be eminently the foundation of religion. But not so. On the contrary, the greater the creature, the more exten- sive is his dependence; the more he has to give thanks for, the more he owes to the free gift of his Creator. No matter what grandeur or freedom we ascribe to our powers, if we maintain, as we ought, that they are be- stowed, inspired, sustained by God; that He is their life; that to Him we owe all the occasions and spheres of their action, and all the helps and incitements by which they are perfected. On account of their grandeur and freedom they are not less His gifts; and in as far as they are divine, their natural tendency is not towards idolatrous self-reliance, but towards the grateful, joyful recognition of their adorable source. The doctrine of dependence is in no degree impaired by the highest views of the human soul. Let me further observe, that the doctrine of entire dependence is not, as is often taught, the fundamental doctrine of religion, so that, to secure this, all other ideas must be renounced. And this needs to be taught, because nothing has been more common with theologians than to magnify our dependence, at the expense of everything elevated in our nature. Man has been stripped of freedom, and spoken of as utterly impotent, lest he should trench on God’s sole, supreme power. To eradicate this error, it should be understood that our dependence is not our chief relation to God, and that it is not the ground of religion, if by religion we understand the sentiment of faith, reverence, and love towards the Divinity. That piety may exist, it is not enough to know that God alone and constantly sustains all beings. This is not a founda- tion for moral feelings towards Him. The great question on which religion rests, is. What kind of a universe does He create and sustain? Were a being of vast power to give birth to a system of unmeasured, unmitigated evil, dependence on him would be anything but a ground of reverence. We should hate it, and long to flee from it into non-existence. 'I'he great question, I repeat it, is I\'hat is the nature, the end, the purpose of the creation which God upholds? On this, and on the relations grow- ing out of this, religion wholly rests. 'I'rue, we depend on the Creator; and so does the animal, so does the clod; and were this the only relation, we should be no more bound to worship than they. M'e sustain a grander relation — that of rational, moral, free beings to a Spiritual Lather. IVe are not mere material substances, subjected to an irresistible ])hysical law, or mere animals subjected to resistless instincts; but are souls, on which a moral law is written, in which a divine oracle is heard. 'Bake away the moral relation of the created spirit to the universal spirit, and that of entire dependence would remain as it is now. But no ground and no capacity of religion would remain; and the splendour of the universe would fade away. We must start in religion from our own souls. In these is the fountain of all divine truth. An outward ' revelation is only possible and intelligible on the ground of concejitions and princijjles previously fur- nished by the soul. Here is our primitive teacher and light. Let us not disparage it. 'I’here are, indeed, I philosophical schools of the present day, which tell us that we are to start in all our speculations from the Abso- lute, the Infinite. But we rise to these conceptions from the contemplation of our own nature; and even if it were not so, of what avail would be the notion of an Absolute, Infinite existence, an Uncaused Unity, if stripped of all those intellectual and moral attributes, which we learn only from our own souls? What but a vague shadow, a sounding name, is the metaphysical Deity, the substance without modes, the being without properties, the naked unity, which performs such a part in some of our philo- sophical systems? 'I’he only God whom our thoughts can rest on, and our hearts can cling to, and our consciences can recognise, is the God whose image dwells in our own souls. 'I'he grand ideas of Power, Reason, Wisdom, Love, Rectitude, Holiness, Blessedness, that is, of all God’s attributes, come from within, from the action of our own spiritual nature. Many, indeed, think that they learn INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. God from marks of design and skill in the outward world; but our ideas of design and skill, of a determining cause, of an end or purpose, are derived from conscious- ness, from our own souls. Thus the soul is the spring of our knowledge of God. 'I'hese remarks might easily be extended, but these will suffice to show, that in insisting on the claims of our nature to reverence, I have not given myself to a subject of barren speculation. It has intimate connections with religion ; and deep injury to religion has been the conse- quence of its neglect. I have also felt and continually insisted, that a new reverence for man was essential to the cause of social reform. As long as men regard one another as they now do, that is as little better than the brutes, they will continue to treat one another brutally. Each will strive, by craft or skill, to make others his tools. There can be no spirit of brotherhood, no true peace, any further than men come to understand their affinity with and relation to God, and the infinite purpose for which He gave them life. As yet these ideas are treated as a kind of spiritual romance; and the teacher who really expects men to see in themselves and one another the children of God, is smiled at as a visionary. The recep- tion of this plainest truth of Christianity would revolution- ise society, and create relations among men not dreamed of at the present day. A union would spring up, com- pared with which our present friendships would seem estrangements. Men would know the import of the word Brother, as yet nothing but a word to multitudes. None of us can conceive the change of manners, the new courtesy and sweetness, the mutual kindness, deference, and sympathy, the life and energy of efforts for social melioration, which are to spring up, in proportion as man shall penetrate beneath the body to the spirit, and shall learn what the lowest human being is. Then insults, wrongs, and oppressions, now hardly thought of, will give a deeper shock than we receive from crimes, which the laws punish with death. Then man will be sacred in man’s sight ; and to injure him will be regarded as open hostility towards God. It has been under a deep feeling of the intimate connection of better and juster views of human nature with all social and religious progress, that I have insisted on it so much in the following tracts ; and I hope that the reader will not think that I have given it disproportioned importance. I proceed to another sentiment, which is expressed so habitually in these writings, as to constitute one of their characteristics, and which is intimately connected with the preceding topic. It is reverence for Liberty, for human rights; a sentiment which has grown with my growth, which is striking deeper root in my age, which seems to me a chief element of true love for mankind, and which alone fits a man for intercourse with his fellow- creatures. I have lost no occasion for expressing my deep attachment to liberty in all its forms, civil, poli- tical, religious, to liberty of thought, speech, and the press, and of giving utterance to my abhorrence of all the forms of oppression. This love of freedom I have not borrowed from Greece or Rome. It is not the classical enthusiasm of youth, which, by some singular good fortune, has escaped the blighting influences of intercourse with the world. Greece and Rome are names of little weight to a Christian. They are warnings rather than inspirers and guides. My reverence for human liberty and rights has grown up in a different school, under milder and holier discipline. Christianity has taught me 6i to respect my race, and to reprobate its oppressors. It is because I have learned to regard man under the light of this religion, that I cannot bear to see him treated as a brute, insulted, wronged, enslaved, made to wear a yoke, to tremble before his brother, to serve him as a tool, to hold property and life at his will, to surrender intellect and conscience to the priest, or to seal his lips or belie his thoughts through dread of the civil power. It is because I have learned the essential equality of men before the common Father, that I cannot endure to see one man establishing his arbitrary will over another by fraud, or force, or wealth, or rank, or superstitious claims. It is because the human being has moral powers, because he carries a law in his own breast, and was made to govern himself, that I cannot endure to see him taken out of his own hands and fashioned into a tool by another’s avarice or pride. It is because I see in him a great nature, the divine image, and vast capacities, that I demand for him means of self-development, spheres for free action; that I call society not to fetter, but to aid his growth. Mhthout intending to disparage the outward, temporal advantages of liberty, I have habitually regarded it in a higher light, as the birthright of the soul, as the element in which men are to put themselves forth, to become conscious of what they are, and to fulfil the end of their being. Christianity has joined with all history in inspiring me with a peculiar dread and abhorrence of the passion for power, for dominion over men. There is nothing in the view of our divine teacher so hostile to his divine spirit, as the lust of domination. This we are accustomed to regard as eminently the sin of the Arch-fiend. “ By this sin fell the angels.” It is the most Satanic of all human passions, and it has inflicted more terrible evils on the human family than all others. It has made the names of king and priest the most appalling in history. There is no crime which has not been perpetrated for the strange pleasure of treading men under foot, of fastening chains on their body or mind. The strongest ties of nature have been rent asunder, her holiest feelings smothered, parents, children, brothers murdered, to secure dominion over man. The people have now been robbed of the neces- saries of life, and now driven to the field of slaughter like flocks of sheep, to make one man the master of millions. Through this passion, government, ordained by God to defend the weak against the strong, to exalt right above might, has up to this time been the great wrong-doer. Its crimes throw those of private men into the shade. Its murders reduce to insignificance those of the bandits, pirates, highwaymen, assassins, against whom it under- takes to protect society. How harmless at this moment are all the criminals of Europe, compared with the Russian power in Poland. This passion for power, which in a thousand forms, with a thousand weapons, is warring against human liberty, and which Christianity condemns as its worst foe, I have never ceased to reprobate with whatever strength of utterance God has given me. Power trampling on right, whether in the person of king or priest, or in the shape of democracies, majorities, and republican slaveholders, is the saddest sight to him who honours human nature and desires its enlargement and happiness. So fearful is the principle of which I have spoken, that I have thought it right to recommend restrictions on power, and a simplicity in government, beyond what most approve. Power, I apprehend, should not be suf- 62 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. ferred to run into great masses. No more of it should be confided to rulers, than is absolutely necessary to repress crime and preserve public order. A purer age may warrant larger trusts : but the less of government now the better, if society be kept in peace. There should exist, if possible, no office to madden ambition. There should be no public prize tempting enough to convulse a nation. One of the tremendous evils of the world, is the monstrous accumulation of power in a few hands. Half a dozen men may, at this moment, light the fires of war through the world, may convulse all civilised nations, sweep earth and sea with armed hosts, spread desolation through the fields and bankruptcy through cities, and make themselves felt by some form of suffering through every household in Christendom. Has not one j)olitician recently caused a large part of Europe to bristle with bayo- nets? And ought this tremendous power to be lodged in the hands of any human being? Is any man pure enough to be trusted with it ? Ought such a prize as this to be held out to ambition ? Can we wonder at the shameless pro- fligacy, intrigue, and the base sacrifices of public interests, by which it is sought, and, when gained held fast ? Undoubtedly great social changes are required to heal this evil, to diminish this accumulation of power. National spirit, which is virtual hostility to all countries but our own, must yield to a growing humanity, to a new knowledge of the spirit of Christ. Another imjiortant step is, a better comprehension by communities, that government is at best a rude machinery, which can accom- plish but very limited good, and which, when strained to accomplish what individuals should do for themselves, is sure to be perverted by selfishness to narrow purposes, or to defeat through ignorance its own ends. Man is too ignorant to govern much, to form vast plans for states and empires. Human policy has almost always been in conflict with the great laws of social well-being ; and the less we rely on it the better. The less of power given to man over man, the better. I speak, of course, of physical, political force. There is a power which cannot be ac- cumulated to excess— I mean moral power, that of truth and virtue, the royalty of wisdom and love, of magnani- mity and true religion. This is the guardian of all right. It makes those whom it acts on, free. It is mightiest when most gentle. In the progress of society this is more and fnore to supersede the coarse workings of government. Force is to fall before it. It must not be inferred from these remarks, that I am an enemy to all restraint. Restraint in some form or other is an essential law of our nature, a necessary discipline, running through life, and not to be escaped by any art or violence. Where can we go, and not meet it ? The powers of nature are, all of them, limits to human power. A never-ceasing force of gravity chains us to the earth. Mountains, rocks, precipices, and seas forbid our advances. If we come to society, restraints multiply on us. Our neighbour’s rights limit our own. His property is for- bidden ground. Usage restricts our free action, fixes our manners, and the language we must speak, and the modes of pursuing our ends. Business is a restraint, setting us wearisome tasks, and driving us through the same mechan- ical routine day after day. Duty is a restraint, imposing curbs on passion, enjoining one course and forbidding another, with stern voice, with uncompromising authority. Study is a restraint, compelling us, if we would learn anything, to concentrate the forces of thought, and to bridle the caprices of fancy. All law, divine or human, is, as the name imports, restraint. No one feels more than I do the need of this element of human life. He who would fly from it must live in perpetual conflict with nature, society, and himself. But all this does not prove that liberty, free action, is not an infinite good, and that we should seek and guard it with sleepless jealousy. For if we look at the various restraints of which I have sj)oken, we shall see that liberty is the end and purpose of all. Nature’s powers around us hem us in, only to rouse a free power within us. It acts that we should react. Burdens press on us, that the soul’s elastic force should come forth. Bounds are set, that we should clear them. The weight which gravitation fastens to our limbs incites us to borrow speed from winds and steam, and we fly where we seemed doomed to cree]i. The sea, which first stopped us, be- comes the path to a new hemisphere. The sharp neces- sities of life, cold, hunger, pain, which chain man to toil, wake up his faculties, and fit him for wider action. Duty restrains the jmssions, only that the nobler faculties and affections may have freer i)lay, may ascend to God, and embrace all his works. Barents impose restraint, that the child may learn to go alone, may outgrow authority. Government is ordained, that the rights and freedom of each and all may be in\ iolate. In study thought is con- fined, that it may penetrate the depths of truth, may seize on the great laws of nature, and take a bolder range. Thus freedom, ever-expanding action, is the end of all just restraint. Restraint, without this end, is a slavish yoke. How often has it broken the young spirit, tamed the heart and the intellect, and made social life a standing pool ! We were made for free action. This alone is life, and enters into all that is good and great. Virtue is free choice of the right ; love, the free embrace of thfe heart ; grace, the free motion of the limbs ; genius, the free, bold flight of thought ; eloquence, its free and fervid utterance. Fet me add, that social order is better pre- served by liberty than by restraint. 'I'he latter, unless most wisely and justly employed, frets, exasperates, and provokes secret resistance ; and still more, it is rendered needful very much by that unhappy constitution of society which denies to multitudes the opportunities of free activity. A community which should open a great variety of spheres to its members, so that all might find free scope for their powers, would need little array of force for restraint. Liberty would prove the best peace- officer. The social order of New England, without a soldier, and almost without a police, bears loud witness to this truth. These views may suffice to explain the frequent recurrence of this topic in the following tracts. I will advert to one topic more, and do it briefly, that I may not extend these remarks beyond reasonable bounds. I have written once and again on War, a hack- neyed subject, as it is called, yet, one would think, too terrible ever to become a commonplace. Is this insanity never to cease ? At this moment, whilst I write, two of the freest and most enlightened nations, having one origin, bound together above all others by mutual depen- dence, by the interweaving of interests, are thought by some to be on the brink of war. False notions of national honour, as false and unholy as those of the duellist, do most towards fanning this fire. Great nations, like great boys, place their honour in resisting insult and in fighting well. One would think the time had gone by in which nations needed to rush to arms to prove that they were not cowards. If there is one truth which history INTR O D UCTOR V RRAfARXS. 63 has taught, it is that communities in all stages of society, from the most barbarous to the most civilised, have sufficient courage. No people can charge upon its con- science that it has not shed blood enough in proof of its valour. Almost any man, under the usual stimulants of the camp, can stand fire. The poor wretch, enlisted from a dram-shop and turned into the ranks, soon fights like a “ hero.” Must France, and England, and America, after so many hard-fought fields, go to war to disprove the charge of wanting spirit ? Is it not time that the point of honour should undergo some change, that some glimpses at least of the true glory of a nation should be caught by rulers and people ? “ It is the honour of a man to pass over a transgression,” and so it is of states. To be wronged is no disgrace. To bear wrong generously, till every means of conciliation is exhausted; to recoil with manly dread from the slaughter of our fellow-creatures; to put confidence in the justice which other nations will do to our motives; to have that consciousness of courage which will make us scorn the reproach of cowardice; to feel that there is something grander than the virtue of savages; to desire peace for the world as well as ourselves, and to shrink from kindling a flame which may involve the world; these are the principles and feelings which do honour to a people. Has not the time come when a nation professing these may cast itself on the candour of mankind? Must fresh blood flow for ever, to keep clean the escutcheon of a nation’s glory? For one, I look on war with a horror which no words can express. I have long wanted patience to read of battles. ^Vere the world of my mind, no man would fight for glory; for the name of a commander, who has no other claim to respect, seldom passes my lips, and the want of sympathy drives him from my mind. The thought of man, God’s im- mortal child, butchered by his brother; the thought of sea and land stained with human blood by human hands, of women and children buried under the ruins of besieged cities, of the resources of empires and the mighty powers of nature all turned by man’s malignity into engines of torture and destruction; this thought gives to earth the semblance of hell. I shudder as among demons. I cannot now, as I once did, talk lightly, thoughtlessly of fighting with this or that nation. That nation is no longer an abstraction to me. It is no longer a vague mass. It spreads out before me into individuals, in a thousand interesting forms and relations. It consists of husbands and wives, parents and children, who love one another as I love my own home. It consists of affectionate women and sweet children. It consists of Christians, united with me to the common Saviour, and in whose spirit I rever- ence the likeness of his divine virtue. It consists of a vast multitude of labourers at the plough and in the work- shop, whose toils I sympathise with, whose burden I should rejoice to lighten, and for whose elevation I have pleaded. It consists of men of science, taste, genius, whose writings have beguiled my solitary hours, and given life to my intellect and best affections. Here is the nation which I am called to fight with, into whose families I must send mourning, whose fall or humiliation I must seek through blood. I cannot do it without a clear com- mission from God. I love this nation. Its men and women are my brothers and sisters. I could not, without unutterable pain, thrust a sword into their hearts. If, indeed, my country were invaded by hostile armies, threatening without disguise its rights, liberties, and dearest interests, I should strive to repel them, just as I should repel a criminal who should enter my house to slay what I hold most dear, and what is entrusted to my care. But I cannot confound with such a case the common instances of war. In general, war is the work of ambitious men, whose principles have gained no strength from the experience of public life, whose policy is coloured if not swayed by personal views or party interests, who do not seek peace with a single heart, who, to secure doubtful rights, perplex the foreign relations of the state, spread jealousies at home and abroad, enlist popular passions on the side of strife, commit themselves too far for retreat, and are then forced to leave to the arbitration of the sword what an impartial umpire could easily have arranged. The question of peace and war is too often settled for a country by men in whom a Christian, a lover of his race, can put little or no trust; and at the bidding of such men, is he to steep his hands in human blood ? But this insanity is passing away. This savageness cannot endure, however hardened to it men are by long use. The hope of waking up some from their lethargy has induced me to recur to this topic so often in my writings. I might name other topics, which occupy a large space in the following tracts, but enough has been said here. I will only add that I submit these volumes* to the public with a deep feeling of their imperfections. Indeed, on such subjects as God, and Christ, and Duty, and Immor- tality, and Perfection, how faint must all human utterance be! In another life, we shall look back on our present words as we do on the lispings of our childhood. Still these lispings conduct the child to higher speech. Still, amidst our weakness, we may learn something, and make progress, and quicken one another by free communica- tion. We indeed know and teach comparatively little; but the known is not the less true or precious, because there is an infinite unknown. Nor ought our ignorance to discourage us, as if we were left to hopeless scepticism. There are great truths, which every honest heart may be assured of. There A such a thing as a seiene, immovable conviction. Faith is a deep want of the soul. We have faculties for the spiritual, as truly as for the outward world. God, the foundation of all existence, may become to the mind the most real of all beings. We can and do see in virtue an everlasting beauty. The distinctions of right and wrong, the obligations of goodness and justice, the divinity of conscience, the moral connection of the present and future life, the greatness of the character of Christ, the ultimate triumphs of truth and love, are to multitudes not probable deductions, but intuitions accom- panied with the consciousness of certainty. They shine with the clear, constant brightness of the lights of heaven. The believer feels himself resting on an everlasting foundation. It is to this power of moral or spiritual perception that the following writings are chiefly addressed. I have had testimony that they have not been wholly ineffectual in leading some minds to a more living and unfaltering persuasion of great moral truths. Without this, I should be little desirous to send them out in this new form. I trust that they will meet some wants. Books which are to pass away, may yet render much service, by their fitness to the intellectual struggles and moral aspirations of the times in which they are written. If in this or in any way I can serve the cause of truth, humanity, and religion, I shall regard my labours as * The edition re'erred to here was in several volumes. 64 SELF-CULTURE. having earned the best recompense which God bestows on his creatures. W. E. C. Boston, April i8///, 1841. P.S. — I intended to say, that some of the following tracts savour of the periods in which they were written, and give opinions which time has disproved. In the article on Napoleon Bonaparte fears are expressed which have in a good measure passed away. In the same Review, the conqueror of Waterloo is spoken of as having only the merit of a great soldier. No one then believed that his opponents were soon to acknowledge his eminence in civil as in military affairs. The article is left as it was, from the difficulty of remodelling it, and because it may be useful as a record of past impressions. SELF-CULTURE. An Address introductory to the Franklin Lectures., delivered at Boston, September, 1838. [This Address was intended to make two lectures; but the author was led to abridge it and deliver it as one, partly by the apprehension that some passages were too abstract for a popular address, partly to secure the advantages of presenting the whole subject at once, and in close connection, and for other reasons which need not be named. Most of the passages which were omitted are now published. The author respectfully submits the discourse to those for whom it was particularly intended, and to the public, in the hope that it will at least bring a great subject before the minds of some who may not as yet have given to it the attention it deserves.] My Respected Friends, — By the invitation of the com- mittee of arrangements for the Franklin Lectures, I now appear before you to offer some remarks introductory to this course, hly principal inducement for doing so is my deep interest in those of my fellow-citizens for whom these lectures are principally designed. I understood that they were to be attended chiefly by those who are occupied by manual labour; and, hearing this, I did not feel myself at liberty to decline the service to which I had been invited. I wished by compliance to e.xpress my sympathy with this large portion of my race. I wished to express my sense of obligation to those from whose industry and skill I derive almost all the comforts of life. I wished still more to express my joy in the efforts they are making for their own improvement, and my firm faith in their success. These motives will give a particular character and bearing to some of my remarks. I shall speak occasionally as among those who live by the labour of their hands. But I shall not speak as one separated from them. I belong rightfully to the great fraternity of working men. Happily in this community we all are bred and born to work; and this honourable mark, set on us all, should bind together the various portions of the community. I have expressed my strong interest in the mass of the people; and this is founded, not on their usefulness to the community, so much as on what they are in them- selves. Their condition is indeed obscure; but their importance is not on this account a whit the less. The multitude of men cannot, from the nature of the case, be distinguished; for the very idea of distinction is, that a man stands out from the multitude. They make little noise and draw' little notice in their narrow spheres of action ; but still they have their full proportion of personal w'orth and even of greatness. Indeed every man, in every condi- tion, is great. It is only our own diseased sight which makes him little. A man is great as a man, be he where or w'hat he may. The grandeur of his nature turns to insignifi- cance all outw'ard distinctions. His pow'ers of intellect, of conscience, of love, of knowing God, of perceiving the beautiful, of acting on his own mind, on outward nature, and on his fellow-creatures, these are glorious prerogatives. Through the vulgar error of undervaluing what is common, w'e are apt indeed to pass these by as of little worth. But as in the outw'ard creation, so in the soul, the common is the most jirecious. Science and art may invent sjilendid modes of illuminating the apartments of the opulent ; but these are all poor and worthless compared with the common liglit which the sun sends into all our windows, which he pours freely, impartially, over hill and valley, which kindles daily the eastern and western sky ; and so the common lights of reason, and conscience, and love, are of more worth and dignity than the rare endow- ments which give celebrity to a few'. Let us not dis- parage that nature w'hich is common to all men ; for no thought can measure its grandeur. It is the image of God, the image even of his infinity, for no limits can be set to its unfolding. Lie who possesses the divine powers of the soul is a great being, be his place what it may. You may clothe him with rags, may immure him in a dungeon, may chain him to slavish tasks. But he is still great. You may shut him out of your houses ; but God opens to him heavenly mansions. He makes no show indeed in the streets of a splendid city ; but a clear thought, a pure affection, a resolute act of a virtuous will, have a dignity of quite another kind and far higher than accumulations of brick and granite, and plaster and stucco, how'ever cunningly put together, or though stretching far beyond our sight. Nor is this all. If we pass over this grandeur of our common nature, and turn our thoughts to that comparative greatness, which draw's chief attention, and which consists in the decided superiority of the individual to the general standard of pow'er and character, W'e shall find this as free and frequent a growth among the obscure and unnoticed as in more conspicuous walks of life. The truly great are to be found everywhere, nor is it easy to say in w'hat condition they spring up most plentifully. Real greatness has nothing to do w'ith a man’s sphere. It does not lie in the magnitude of his outward agency, in the extent of the effects which he pro- duces. The greatest men may do comparatively little abroad. Perhaps the greatest in our city at this moment are buried in obscurity. Grandeur of character lies wholly in force of soul, that is, in the force of thought, moral principle, and love, and this may be found in the humblest condition of life. A man brought up to an obscure trade, and hemmed in by the wants of a growing family, may, in his narrow sphere, perceive more clearly, discriminate more keenly, w'eigh evidence more wisely. SELF-CULTURE. 65 seize on the right means more decisively, and have more presence of mind in difficulty, than another who has accu- mulated vast stores of knowledge by laborious study ; and he has more of intellectual greatness. Many a man, who has gone but a few miles from home, understands human nature better, detects motives, and weighs character more sagaciously, than another who has travelled over the known world, and made a name by his reports of different countries. It is force of thought which measures intel- lectual, and so it is force of principle which measures moral greatness, that highest of human endowments, that brightest manifestation of the Divinity. The greatest man is he who chooses the Right with invincible reso- lution, who resists the sorest temptations from within and without, who bears the heaviest burdens cheerfully, who is calmest in storms and most fearless under menace and frowns, whose reliance on truth, on virtue, on God, is most unfaltering ; and is this a greatness which is apt to make a show, or which is most likely to abound in conspicuous station ? The solemn conflicts of reason with passion, the victories of moral and religious principle over urgent and almost irresistible solicitations to self-indulgence ; the hardest sacrifices of duty, those of deep-seated affection and of the heart’s fondest hopes ; the consolations, hopes, joys, and peace of disappointed, persecuted, scorned, deserted virtue ; these are, of course, unseen ; so that the true greatness of human life is almost wholly out of sight. Perhaps in our presence, the most heroic deed on earth is done in some silent spirit, the loftiest purpose cherished, the most generous sacrifice made, and we do not suspect it. I believe this greatness to be most common among the multitude, whose names are never heard. Among common people will be found more of hardship borne manfully, more of unvarnished truth, more of religious trust, more of that generosity which gives what the giver needs himself, and more of a wise estimate of life and death, than among the more prosperous. And even in regard to influence over other beings, which is thought the peculiar prerogative of distinguished station, I believe that the difference between the conspicuous and the obscure does not amount to much. Influence is to be measured, not by the extent of surface it covers, but by its kind. A man may spread his mind, his feelings, and opinions through a great extent ; but if his mind be a low' one, he manifests no greatness. A wretched artist may fill a city with daubs, and by a false, showy style achieve a reputation ; but the man of genius, who leaves behind him one grand picture, in which immortal beauty is embodied, and wffiich is silently to spread a true taste in his art, exerts an incomparably higher influence. Now the noblest influence on earth is that exerted on character; and he who puts forth this does a great work, no matter how narrow or obscure his sphere. The father and mother of an unnoticed family, who, in their seclusion, awaken the mind of one child to the idea and love of I)erfect goodness, who awaken in him a strength of will to repel all temptation, and who send him out prepared to profit by the conflicts of life, surpass in influence a Napoleon breaking the world to his sway. And not only is their work higher in kind ; who knows but that they are doing a greater w'ork even as to extent of surface than the conqueror ? Who know’s but that the being w'hom they inspire with holy and disinterested principles, may communicate himself to others ; and that, by a spreading agency, of which they were the silent origin, improve- ments may spread through a nation, through the world ? In these remarks you will see why I feel and express a deep interest in the obscure, in the mass of men. The distinctions of society vanish before the light of these truths. I attach myself to the multitude, not because they are voters and have political power, but because they are men, and have within their reach the most glorious prizes of humanity. In this country the mass of the people are distinguished by possessing means of improvement, of self-culture, possessed nowhere else. To incite them to the use of these is to render them the best service they can receive ; accordingly, I have chosen for the subject of this lecture. Self-culture, or the care which every man owes to himself, to the unfolding and perfecting of his nature. I consider this topic as particularly appropriate to the introduction of a course of lectures, in consequence of a common dis- imsition to regard these and other like means of instruc- tion as able of themselves to carry forward the hearer. Lectures have their use ; they stir up many who, but for such outward appeals, might have slumbered to the end of life. But let it be remembered that little is to be gained simply by coming to this place once a week, and giving up the mind for an hour to be wrought upon by a teacher. Unless we are roused to act upon ourselves, unless we engage in the work of self-improvement, unless we purpose strenuously to form and elevate our own minds, unless what we hear is made a part of ourselves by con- scientious reflection, very little permanent good is received. Self-culture, I am aware, is a topic too extensive for a j single discourse, and I shall be able to present but a few views which seem to me most important. My aim will be to give, first the Idea of self-culture, next its Mean.s, and then to consider some objections to the leading views which I am now to lay before you. Before entering on the discussion, let me offer one remark. Self-culture is something possible. It is not a dream. In has foundations in our nature. Without this conviction, the speaker will but declaim, and the hearer listen without profit. There are two powers of the human soul which make self-culture possible — the self-searching and the self-forming power. We have first the faculty of turning the mind on itself; of recalling its past, and watching its present operations ; of learning its various capaciUes and susceptibilities, what it can do and bear, what it can enjoy and suffer ; and of thus learning in general what our nature is, and what it was made for. It is worthy of observation, that we are able to discern not only what we already are, but what we may become, to see in ourselves germs and promises of a growth to which no bounds can be set, to dart beyond what we have actually gained to the idea of Perfection as the end of our being. It is by this self-comprehending power that we are distinguished from the brutes, which give no signs of looking into themselves. Mhthout this there would be no self-culture, for we should not know the work to be done ; and one reason why self-culture is so little pro- posed is, that so few penetrate into their own nature. To most men, theii' own spirits are shadowy, unreal, com- pared with what is outward. When they happen to cast a glance inward, they see there only a dark, vague chaos. They distinguish perhaps some violent passion, which has driven them to injurious excess, but their highest powers hardly attract a thought ; and thus multitudes live and die as truly strangers to themselves as to countries of which they have heard the name, but which human foot has never trodden. F 66 SELF-CULTURE. But self-culture is possible, not only because we can enter into and search ourselves ; we have a still nobler l) 0 wer, that of acting on, determining, and forming our- selves. This is a fearful as well as glorious endowment, for it is the ground of human responsibility. We have the power not only of tracing our powers, but of guiding and impelling them ; not only of watching our passions, but of controlling them ; not only of seeing our faculties grow, but of aj)plying to them means and influences to aid their growth. We can stay or change the current of tliought. We can concentrate the intellect on objects which we wish to comprehend. A\'e can fix our eyes on ])erfection, and make almost everything speed towards it. d'his is indeed a noble prerogative of our nature. Pos- sessing this, it matters little what or where we are now, for we can conquer a better lot, and even be happier for starting from the lowest point. Of all the discoveries which men need to make, the most important, at the present moment, is that of the self-forming power treasured up in themselves. They little suspect its extent, as little as the savage apprehends the energy which the mind is created to exert on the material world. It transcends in importance all our power over outward nature. 'Phere is more of divinity in it than in the force which impels the outward universe ; and yet how little we comjirehend it ! How it slumbers in most men unsuspected, unused ! 'Phis makes self-culture possible, and binds it on us as a solemn duty. I. I am first to unfold the idea of self-culture ; and this, in its most general form, may easily be seized. I’o cultivate anything, be it a plant, an animal, a mind, is to make grow. Growth, expansion is the end. Nothing admits culture but that which has a principle of life, capable of being expanded. He, therefore, who does what he can to unfold all his powers and capacities, especially his nobler ones, so as to become a well- proportioned, vigorous, e.xcellent, happy being, practises self-culture. This culture, of course, has various branches corre- sponding to the different cajtacities of human nature ; but, though various, they are intimately united and make jirogress together. The soul, which our philosophy divides into various capacities, is still one essence, one life ; and it exerts at the same moment, and blends in the same act, its various energies of thought, feeling, and volition. Accordingly, in a wise self-culture, all the prin- ciples of our nature grow at once by joint, harmonious action, just as all parts of the plant are unfolded together. AVhen, therefore, you hear of different branches of self- improvement, you will not think of them as distinct processes going on independently of each other, and re- quiring each its own separate means. Still a distinct consideration of these is needed to a full comprehension of the subject, and these I shall proceed to unfold. First, self-culture is Moral, a branch of singular im- jjortance. When a man looks into himself, he discovers two distinct orders or kinds of principles, which it behoves him especially to comprehend. He discovers desires, ajjpetites, passions, which terminate in himself, which crave and seek his own interest, gratification, distinction ; and he discovers another principle, an antagonist to these, which is Impartial, Disinterested, Universal, enjoining on him a regard to the rights and happiness of other beings, and laying on him obligations which 7nust be discharged, cost what they may, or however they may clash with his ])articular pleasure or gain. No man, however narrowed to his own interest, however hardened by selfishness, can deny that there springs up within him a great idea in opposition to interest, the idea of Duty, that an inward voice calls him, more or less distinctly, to revere and exercise Impartial Justice and Universal Good-will. 'I'his disinterested princijjle in human nature we call sometimes reason, sometimes conscience, sometimes the moral sense or faculty. But, be its name what it may, it is a real j)rin- ciple in each of us, and it is the supreme power within us, to be cultivated above all others, for on its culture the right development of all others depends. 'I'he passions indeed may be stronger than the conscience, may lift u]) a louder voice ; but their clamour differs wholly from the tone of command in which the conscience s])eaks. They are not clotlied with its authority, its binding power. In their very triumi)hs they are rebuked by the moral principle, and often cower before its still, deep, menacing voice. No part of self-knowledge is more important than to dis- cern clearly these two great principles, the self-seeking and the disinterested ; and the most important part ot self-culture is to dej)rcss the former and to exalt the latter, or to enthrone the sense of duty within us. There are no limits to the growth of this moral force in man, if he will cherish it Hithfully. 'I'here have been men whom no j)ower in the universe could turn from the Right, by whom death in its most dreadful forms has been less dreaded than transgression of the inward law of universal justice and love. In the next i)lace, self-culture is Religious. When we look into ourselves, we discover i)owers which link us with this outward, visible, finite, ever-changing world. We have sight and other senses to discern, and limbs and various faculties to secure and appropriate the material creation. And we have, too, a power which cannot stoj) at what we see and handle, at what exists within the bounds of space and time, which seeks for the Infinite, Uncreated Cause, which cannot rest till it ascend to the Eternal, All-comprehending Mind. This we call the religious principle, and its grandeur cannot be exaggerated by human language ; for it marks out a being destined for higher communion than with the visible universe, d'o develope this is eminently to educate ourselves. The true idea of God, unfolded clearly and livingly within us, and moving us to adore and obey Him, and to aspire after likeness to Him, is the noblest growth in human, and, I may add, in celestial natures. The religious ])rinciple and the moral are intimately connected, and grow together. I'he former is indeed the perfection and highest manifestation of the latter. They are both dis- interested. It is the essence of true religion to recognise and adore in God the attributes of Impartial Justice and Universal Dove, and to hear Him commanding us in the conscience to become what we adore. Again. Self-culture is intellectual. We cannot look into ourselves without discovering the intellectual prin- ciple, the power which thinks, reasons, and judges, the power of seeking and acquiring truth. This, indeed, we are in no danger of overlooking. The intellect being the great instrument by which men compass their wishes, it draws more attention than any of our other powers. When we speak to men of improving themselves, the first thought which occurs to them is, that they must cultivate their understanding, and get knowledge and skill. By education, men mean almost exclusively intellectual training. For this, schools and colleges are instituted, and to this the moral and religious discipline of the young SELF-CULTURE. is sacrificed. Now I reverence, as much as any man, the intellect; but let us never exalt it above the moral prin- ciple. With this it is most intimately connected. In this its culture is founded, and to exalt this is its highest aim. Whoever desires that his intellect may grow up to soundness, to healthy vigour, must begin with moral dis- cipline. Reading and study are not enough to perfect the power of thought. One thing above all is needful, and that is, the Disinterestedness which is the very soul of virtue. To gain truth, which is the great object of the understanding, I must seek it disinterestedly. Here is the first and grand condition of intellectual progress. I must choose to receive the truth, no matter how it bears on myself I must follow it, no matter where it leads, what interests it opposes, to what persecution or loss it lays me open, from what party it severs me, or to what ])arty it allies. Without this fairness of mind, which is only another phrase for disinterested love of truth, great native powers of understanding are perverted and led astray; genius runs wild; “the light within us becomes darkness.” The subtilest reasoners, for want of this, cheat themselves as well as others, and become entangled in the web of their own sophistry. It is a fact well known in the history of science and philosophy, that men, gifted by nature with singular intelligence, have broached the grossest errors, and even sought to undermine the grand jirimitive truths on which human virtue, dignity, and hope depend. And, on the other hand, I have known instances of men of naturally moderate powers of mind, who, by a disinterested love of truth and their follow-creatures, have gradually risen to no small force and enlargement of thought. Some of the most useful teachers in the pulpit and in schools have owed their power of enlightening others, not so much to any natural superiority, as to the simplicity, impartiality, and disinterestedness of their minds, to their readiness to live and die for the truth. A man who rises above himself looks from an eminence on nature and providence, on society and life. Thought expands, as by a natural elasticity, when the pressure of selfishness is removed. The moral and religious prin- ciples of the soul, generously cultivated, fertilise the intel- lect. Duty, faithfully performed, opens the mind to truth, both being of one family, alike immutable, universal, and everlasting. I have enlarged on this subject, because the connection between moral and intellectual culture is often overlooked, and because the former is often sacrificed to the latter. The exaltation of talent, as it is called, above virtue and religion, is the curse of the age. Education is now chiefly a stimulus to learning, and thus men acquire power with- out the principles which alone make it a good. Talent is worshipped; but, if divorced from rectitude, it will prove more of a demon than a god. Intellectual culture consists, not chiefly, as many are apt to think, in accumulating information, though this is important, but in building up a force of thought which may be turned at will on any subjects on which we are called to pass judgment. This force is manifested in the concentration of the attention, in accurate, penetrating observation, in reducing complex subjects to their ele- ments, in diving beneath the effect to the cause, in detecting the more subtle differences and resemblances of things, in reading the future in the present, and especially in rising from particular facts to general laws or universal truths. This last exertion of the intellect, its rising to broad views and great principles, constitutes <^7 what is called the philosophical mind, and is especially worthy of culture. What it means, your own observation must have taught you. You must have taken note of two classes of men, the one always employed on details, on particular facts, and the other using these facts as founda- tions of higher, wider truths. The latter are philosophers. For example, men had for ages seen pieces of wood, stones, metals falling to the ground. Newton seized on these particular facts, and rose to the idea that all matter tends, or is attracted, towards all matter, and then defined the law according to which this attraction or force acts at different distances, thus giving us a grand principle, which, we have reason to think, extends to and controls the whole outward creation. One man reads a history, and can tell you all its events, and there stops. Another combines these events, brings them under one view, and learns the great causes which are at work on this or another nation, and what are its great tendencies, whether to freedom or despotism, to one or another form of civili- sation. So, one man talks continually about the parti- cular actions of this or another neighbour ; whilst another looks beyond the acts to the inward principle from which they spring, and gathers from them larger views of human nature. In a word, one man sees all things apart and in fragments, whilst another strives to discover the harmony, connection, unity of all. One of the great evils of society is, that men, occupied perpetually with petty details, want general truths, want broad and fixed i)rinciples. Hence many, not wicked, are unstable, habitually incon- sistent, as if they were overgrown children, rather than men. To build up that strength of mind which appre- hends and cleaves to great universal truths, is the highest intellectual self-culture ; and here I wish you to observe how entirely this culture agrees with that of the moral and the religious principles of our nature, of which I have previously spoken. In each of these, the improve- ment of the soul consists in raising it above what is narrow, particular, individual, selfish, to the universal and unconfined. To improve a man is to liberalise, enlarge him in thought, feeling, and purpose. Narrowness of intellect and heart, this is the degradation from which all culture aims to rescue the human being. Again. Self-culture is social, or one of its great offices is to unfold and purify the affections which spring uj) instinctively in the human breast, which bind together husband and wife, parent and child, brother and sister ; which bind a man to friends and neighbours, to his country, and to the suffering who fall under his eye, wherever they belong. The culture of these is an im- portant part of our work, and it consists in converting them from instincts into principles, from natural into spiritual attachments, in giving them a rational, moral, and holy character. For example, our affection for our children is at first instinctive ; and if it continue such, it rises little above the brute’s attachment to its young. But when a parent infuses into his natural love for his offspring moral and religious principle, when he comes to regard his child as an intelligent, s])iritual, immortal being, and honours him as such, and desires first of all to make him disinterested, noble, a worthy child of (lod and the friend of his race, then the instinct rises into a generous and holy sentiment. It resembles Clod’s paternal love for his spiritual family. A like purity and dignity we must aim to give to all our affections. Again. Self-culture is Practical, or it [)roposes, as one of its chief end.s, to fit us for action; to make us efficient 63 SELF-CULTURE. in whatever we undertake, to train us to firmness of pur- pose and to fruitfulness of resource in common life, and especially in emergencies, in times of difficulty, danger, and trial. But i)assing over this tind other topics for which I have no time, 1 shall confine myself to two branches of self-culture which have been almost wholly overlooked in the education of the i)eople, and which ought not to be so slighted. In looking at our nature, we discover, among its admirable endowments, the sense or perception of Beauty. W'e see the germ of this in every human being, and there IS no power which admits greater cultivation ; and why should it not be cherished in all? It deserves remark, that the provision for this principle is infinite in the uni- verse. 'I'here is but a very minute portion of the creation which we can turn into food and clothes, or gratification for the body ; but the whole creation may be used to minister to the sense of beauty. Beauty is an all-pervading presence. It unfolds in the numberless llowers of the spring. It waves in the branches of the trees and the green blades of grass. It haunts the depths of the earth and sea, and gleams out in the hues of the shell and the jrrecious stone. And not only these minute objects, but the ocean, the mountains, the clouds, the heavens, the stars, the rising and setting sun, all overflow with beauty. The universe is its temple, and those men who are alive to it, cannot lift their eyes without feeling themselves encompassed with it on every side. Now this beauty is so precious, the enjoyments it gives are so refined and pure, so congenial with our tenderest and noble feelings, and so akin to worship, that it is painful to think of the multitude of men as living in the midst of it, and living almost as blind to it as if, instead of this fair earth and glorious sky, they were tenants of a dungeon. An infinite joy is lost to the world by the want of culture of this spiritual endowment. Suppose that I were to visit a cottage, and to see its walls lined with the choicest |)ic- tures of Raphael, and every spare nook filled with statues of the most exquisite workmanship, and that I were to learn that neither man, woman, nor child ever cast an eye at these miracles of art, how should I feel their jrrivation ! — how should I want to open their eyes, and to help them to comprehend and feel the loveliness and grandeur \\ hich in vain courted their notice ! But every husband- man is living in sight of the works of a diviner Artist; and how much would his existence be elevated could he see the glory which shines forth in their forms, hues, propor- tions, and moral expression ! I have spoken only of the beauty of nature ; but how much of this mysterious charm is found in the elegant arts, and especially in literature ? The best books have most beauty. The greatest truths are wronged if not linked with beauty, and they win their way most surely and deeply into the soul when arrayed in this their natural and fit attire. Now no man receives the true culture of a man, in whom the sensibility to the beautiful is not cherished; and I know of no condition in life from which it should be excluded. Of all luxuries, this is the cheapest and most at hand; and it seems to me to be most important to those con- ditions, where coarse labour tends to give a grossness to the mind. From the diffusion of the sense of beauty in ancient Greece, and of the taste for music in modern Germany, we learn that the people at large may partake of refined gratifications, which have hitherto been thought to be necessarily restricted to a few. \Miat beauty is, is a question which the most pene- trating minds have not satisfactorily answered; nor, were I able, is this the place for discussing it. But one thing I would say, the beauty of the outward creation is inti- mately related to the lovely, grand, interesting attributes of the soul. It is the emblem or expression of these. Matter becomes beautiful to us when it seems to lose its material aspect, its inertness, finiteness, and grossness, and by the etherial lightness of its forms and motions seems to approach spirit ; when it images to us pure and gentle affections; when it spreads out into a vastness which is a shadow of the Infinite; or when in more awful shapes and movements it speaks of the Omnipotent. Thus outward beauty is akin to something deeper and unseen, is the reflection of spiritual attributes; and of consequence the way to see and feel it more and more keenly, is to culti- vate those moral, religious, intellectual, and social prin- ciples of which 1 liave already si)oken, and which arc the glory of the spiritual nature, and I name this that you may see, what I am anxious to show, the harmony which subsists among all branches of human culture, or how each forwards and is aided by all. d’here is another power, which each man should culti- vate according to his ability, but which is very much neglected in the mass of the people, and that is, the ])ower of Utterance. A man was not made to shut up his mind in itself; but to give it voice and to exchange it for other minds. Sjreech is one of our grand distinctions from the brute. Our jjower over others lies not so much in the amount of thought within us, as in the power of bringing it out. A man of more than ordinary intel- lectual vigour may, for want of expression, be a cipher, wiihout significance, in society. And not only does a man influence others, but he greatly aids his own intellect, by giving distinct and forcible utterance to his thoughts. VVe understand ourselves better, our conceptions grow clearer, by the very effort to make them clear to another. Our social rank, too, dcj)cnds a good deal on our power of utterance. The princii^al distinction between what are called gentlemen and the vulgar lies in this, that the latter are awkward in manners, and are especially wanting in propriety, clearness, grace, and force of utterance. A man who cannot open his lips without breaking a rule of grammar, without showing in his dialect or brogue or uncouth tones his want of cultivation, or without darken- ing his meaning by a confused, un.skilful mode of com- munication, cannot take the place to which, perhaps, his native good sense entitles him. To have intercourse with respectable people, we must speak their language. On this account, 1 am glad that grammar and a correct pro- nunciation are taught in the common schools of this city. These are not trifles; nor are they superfluous to any class of peoj^le. They give a man access to social advan- tages, on which his improvement very much depends. The power of utterance should be included by all in their plans of self-culture. I have now given a few views of the culture, the improvement, which every man should propose to himself. I have all along gone on the principle that a man has within him capacities of growth which deserve and will reward intense, unrelaxing toil. I do not look on a human being as a machine, made to be kept in action by a foreign force, to accomplish an unvarying succession of motions, to do a fixed amount of work, and then to fall to pieces at death, but as a being of free spiritual powers; and I place little value on any culture but that which aims to bring out these, and to give them perpetual impulse SELF-CULTURE. and expansion. I am aware that this view is far from being universal. The common notion has been, that the mass of the people need no other culture than is neces- sary to fit them for their various trades; and, though this error is passing away, it is far from being exploded. Tut the ground of a man’s culture lies in his nature, not in his calling. His powers are to be unfolded on account of their inherent dignity, not their outward direction. He is to be educated because he is a man, not because he is to make .shoes, nails, or pins. A trade is plainly not the great end of his being, for his mind cannot be shut up in it; his force of thought cannot be exhausted on it. He has faculties to which it gives no action, and deep wants it cannot answer. Poems, and systems of tiieology and philosophy, which have made some noise in the world, have been wrought at the work-bench and amidst the toils of the field. How often, when the arms are mechanically plying a trade, does the mind, lost in reverie or day-dreams, escape to the ends of the earth ! How often does the pious heart of woman mingle the greatest of all thoughts, that of God, with household drudgery! Undoubtedly a man is to perfect himself in his trade, for by it he is to earn his bread and to serve the community. But bread or subsistence is not his highest good ; for, if it were, his lot would be harder than that of the inferior animals, for whom nature spreads a table and weaves a wardrobe, without a care of their own. Nor was he made chiefly to minister to the wants of the j community. A rational, moral being cannot, without infinite wrong, be converted into a mere instrument of others’ gratification. He is neces.sarily an end, not a means. A mind in which are sown the seeds of wisdom, disinterestedness, firmness of purpose, and piety, is worth more than all the outward material interests of a world. It exists for itself, for its own perfection, and must not be enslaved to its own or others’ animal wants. You tell me that a liberal culture is needed for men who are to fill high stations, but not for such as are doomed to vulgar labour. I answer that Man is a greater name than President or King. Truth and goodness are equally preciou.s, in whatever sphere they are found. Besides, men of all conditions sustain equally the relations which give birth to the highest virtues and demand the highest powers. The labourer is not a mere labourer. He has close, tender, responsible connections with God and his fellow-creatures. He is a son, husband, father, friend and Christian. He belongs to a home, a country, a church, a race ; and is such a man to be cultivated only for a trade ? Was he not sent into the world for a great work ? To educate a child perfectly requires profounder thought, greater wisdom, than to govern a state ; and for this plain reason, that the interests and wants of the latter are more superficial, coarser, and more obvious, than the spiritual capacities, the growth of thought and feeling, and the subtle laws of the mind, which must all be studied and comprehended before the work of education can be thoroughly performed ; and yet to all conditions this greatest work on earth is equally committed by God. \Vhat plainer proof do we need that a higher culture than has yet been dreamed of is needed by our whole race ? H. I now proceed to inquire into the Means by which the self-culture just described may be promoted ; and here I know not where to begin. The subject is so extensive, as well as important, that I feel myself unable to do any justice to it, especially in the limits to which I am confined. I beg you to consider me as 69 presenting but hints, and as such as have offered them.- selves with very little research to my own mind. And, first, the great means of self-culture, that which includes all the rest, is to fasten on this culture as our Great End, to determine, deliberately and solemnly, that we will make the most and the best of the powers which God has given us. Without this resolute purpose, che best means are worth little, and with it the poorest become mighty. You may see thousands, with every opportunity of improvement which wealth can gather, with teachers, libraries and apparatus, bringing nothing to pass, and others, with few helps, doing wonders ; and simj)ly because the latter are in earnest, and the former not. A man in earnest finds means, or, if he cannot find, creates them. A vigorous purpose makes much out of little, breathes power into weak instruments, disarms difficulties, and even turns them into assistances. Every condition has means of progress, if we have spirit enough to use them. Some volumes have recently been pub- lished, giving examples or histories of “ knowledge acquired under difficulties ; ” and it is mo.st animating to see in these what a resolute man can do for himself A great idea, like this of Self-culture, if seized on clearly and vigorously, burns like a living coal in the soul. He who deliberately adopts a great end has, by this act, half accomplished it, has scaled the chief barrier to success. One thing is essential to the strong purpose of self- culture now insisted on, namely, faith in the practicableness of this culture. A great object, to awaken resolute choice, must be seen to be within our reach. The truth, that progress is the very end of our being, must not be received as a tradition, but comprehended and felt as a reality. Our minds are apt to pine and starve, by being imprisoned within what we have already attained. A true faith, looking up to something better, catching glimpses of a distant perfection, projthesying to ourselves improvements proportioned to our conscientious labours, gives energy of purpose, gives wings to the soul ; and this faith will continually grow, by acquainting ourselves with our own nature, and with the promises of Divine help and immortal life which abound in Revelation. Some are discouraged from proposing to themselves improvement, by the false notion that the study of books, which their situation denies them, is the all-important and only sufficient means. Let such consider that the grand volumes, of which all our books are transcripts — I mean nature, revelation, the human soul, and human life — are freely unfolded to every eye. The great sources of wisdom are experience and observation ; and these are denied to none. To open and fix our eyes upon what passes without and within us, is the most fruitful study. Books are chiefly useful as they help us to interpret what we see and experience. When they absorb men, as they sometimes do, and turn them from observation of nature and life, they generate a learned folly, for which the plain sense of the labourer could not be exchanged but at great loss. It deserves attention that the greatest men have been formed without the studies which at present are thought by many most needful to improvement. Homer, Plato, I iemosthenes, never heard the name of chemistry, and knew less of the solar system than a boy in our common schools. Not that these sciences are unimportant; but the lesson is, that human improvement never wants the means, where the purpose of it is deep and earnest in the soul. 70 SELF-CULTURE. The purpose of self-culture, this is the life and strength of all the methods we use for our own elevation. I * reiterate this principle on account of its great importance; I and I would add a remark to prevent its misapprehension. ! When I speak of the purpose of self-culture, I mean [ that it should be sincere. In other words, we must make ! self-culture really and truly our end, or choose it for its own sake, and not merely as a means or instrument of something else. And here I touch a common and very pernicious error. Not a few persons desire to improve themselves only to get property and to rise in the world ; ' hut such do not properly choose improvement, hut some- j thing outward and foreign to themselves ; and so low an ^ impulse can produce only a stinted, partial, uncertain i growth. A man, as I have said, is to cultivate himself because he is a man. He is to start with the conviction that there is something greater within him than in the ' whole material creation, than in all the worlds which press on the eye and ear ; and that inward improvements j have a worth and dignity in themselves quite distinct from the power they give over outward thing.s. Un- douhtedly a man is to labour to better his condition, but j first to better himself. If he knows no higher use of his mind than to invent and drudge for his body, his case is | desperate as far as culture is concerned. In these remarks, I do not mean to recommend to the labourer indifference to his outward lot. 1 hold it im- ])ortant that every man in every class should possess the means of comfort, of health, of neatness in food and apparel, and of occasional retirement and leisure. I'hese are good in themselves, to be sought for their own sakes, and still more, they are important means of tlie self- culture for which I am j)leading. A clean, comfortable dwelling, with wholesome meals, is no small aid to intel- lectual and moral jwogress. A man living in a damj) cellar or a garret o])en to rain and snow, breathing the foul air of a filthy room, and striving without success to appease hunger on scanty or unsavoury food, is in danger of abandoning himself to a desperate, selfish recklessness. ^ Improve then your lot. Multiply comforts, and still more get wealth if you can by honourable means, and if it do I not cost too much. A true cultivation of the mind is ! fitted to forward you in your worldly concerns, and you [ ought to use it for this end. Only, beware, lest this end master you ; lest your motives sink as your condition im- proves ; lest you fall victims to the miserable passion of vying with those around you in show, luxury, and expense. Cherish a true respect for yourselves. Feel that your nature is worth more than everything which is foreign to you. He who has not caught a glimpse of his own rational and spiritual being, of something within himself superior to the world and allied to the Divinity, wants the true spring of that purpose of self-culture on which I have insisted as the first of all the means of improvement. I ])roceed to another important means of self-culture, and this is the control of the animal appetites. To raise the moral and intellectual nature, we must put down the animal. Sensuality is the abyss in which very many souls * are plunged and lost. Among the most prosperous classes, what a vast amount of intellectual life is drowned in luxurious excesse.s. It is one great curse of wealth that it is used to pamper the senses ; and among the poorer classes, though luxury is wanting, yet a gross feeding often prevails, under which the spirit is whelmed. It is a sad sight to walk through our streets, and to see how many countenances bear marks of a lethargy and a brutal coarseness, induced by unrestrained indulgence. ^\'hocver would cultivate the soul must restrain the appetites. I am not an advocate for the doctrine that animal food was not meant for man, but that this is used among us to excess ; that as a people we should gain much in cheerfulness, activity, and buoyancy of mind, by less gross and stimulating food, I am strongly inclined to believe. Above all, let me urge on those who would bring out and elevate their higher nature, to abstain from the use of spirituous liquors. This bad habit is distin- guished from all others by the ravages it makes on the reason, the intellect ; and this effect is produced to a mournful extent, even when drunkenness is escaped. Not a few men, called temperate, and who have thought themselves such, have learned on abstaining from the use of ardent spirits, that for years their minds had been clouded, imjiaired by moderate drinking, without their suspecting the injury. Multitudes in this city are bereft of half their intellectual energy, by a degree of indul- gence which passes for innocent. Of all the foes of the working class, this is the deadlie.st. Nothing has done more to keep down this class, to destroy their self-resi)ect, to rob them of their just influence in the community, to render jirofitless the means of improve- ment within their reach, than the use of ardent spirits as a drink. 'I'hey are called on to withstand this practice, as they regard their honour, and would take their just place in society. They are under solemn obligations to give their sanction to every effort for its su])pression. 'I’hey ought to regard as their worst enemies (though un- intentionally such), as the enemies of their rights, dignity, and influence, the men who desire to flood city and country with distilled poison. I lately visited a flourish- ing village, and on expressing to one of the respected inhabitants the i)leasure I felt in witne.ssing so many signs of ])rogress, he replied that one of the causes of the pros- perity I witnessed was the disuse of ardent si)irits by the people. And this reformation we may be assured wrought something higher than outward prosperity. In almost every family so improved, we cannot doubt that the capacities of the parent for intellectual and moral im- provement were enlarged, and the means of education made more effectual to the child. I call on working men to take hold of the cause of temperance as peculiarly their cause. 'I'hese remarks are the more needed in consequence of the efforts made far and wide to annul at the present moment a recent law for the suppression of the sale of ardent spirits in such ejuantities as favour intemperance. I know that there are intelligent and good men who believe that, in enacting this law, Clovern- ment transcended its limits, left its true path, and esta- blished a precedent for legislative interference with all our pursuits and pleasures. No one here looks more jealously on Government than myself But I maintain that this is a case which stands by itself, which can be confounded with no other, and on which Government, from its very nature and end, is peculiarly bound to act. Let it never be forgotten that the great end of Government, its highest function, is, not to make roads, grant charters, originate improvements, but to prevent or repress Crimes against individual rights and social order. For this end it ordains a penal code, erects prisons, and inflicts fearful punishments. Now, if it be true that a vast proportion of the crimes which Government is instituted to prevent and repress have their origin in the use of ardent spirits ; if our poorhouses, workhouses, gaols, and penitentiaries SELF-CULTURE. 71 are tenanted in a great degree by those whose first and chief impulse to crime came from the distillery and dram shop ; if murder and theft, the most fearful outrages on property and life, are most frequently the issues and con- summation of intemperance, is not Government bound to restrain by legislation the vending of the stimulus to these terrible social wrongs ? Is Government never to act as a parent, never to remove the causes or occasions of wrong-doing ? Has it but one instrument for repressing crime, namely, public, infamous punishment — an evil only inferior to crime ? Is Government a usurper, does it wander beyond its sphere by imposing restraints on an article which does no imaginable good, which can plead no benefit conferred on body or mind, which unfits the citizen for the discharge of his duty to his country, and which, above all, stirs up men to the perpetration of most of the crimes from which it is the highest and most solemn office of Government to protect society ? I come now to another important measure of self- culture, and this is, intercourse with superior minds. I have insisted on our own activity as essential to our pro- gress ; but we were not made to live or advance alone. Society is as needful to us as air or food. A child doomed to utter loneliness, growing up without sight or sound of human beings, would not put forth equal power with many brutes ; and a man never brought into contact with minds superior to his own, will probably run one and the same dull round of thought and action to the end of life. It is chiefly through books that we enjoy intercourse with superior minds, and these invaluable means of com- munication are in the reach of all. In the best books great men talk to us, give us their most precious thoughts, and pour their souls into ours. God be thanked for books ; they are the voices of the distant and the dead, and make us heirs of the spiritual life of past ages. Books are the true levellers. They give to all, who will faithfully use them, the society, the spiritual presence, of the best and greatest of our race. No matter how poor I am. No matter though the prosperous of my own time will not enter my obscure dwelling. If the Sacred Writers will enter and take up their abode under my roof, if Milton will cross my threshold to sing to me of Paradise, and Shakspeare to open to me the worlds of imagination and the workings of the human heart, and Franklin to enrich me with his practical wisdom, I shall not pine for want of intellectual companionship, and I may become a cultivated man, though excluded from what is called the best society in the place where I live. To make this means of culture effectual, a man must select good books, such as have been written by right- minded and strong-minded men, real thinkers, who, instead of diluting by repetition what others say, have something to say for themselves, and write to give relief to full, earnest souls ; and these works must not be skimmed over for amusement, but read with fixed attention and a reverential love of truth. In selecting books, we may be aided much by those who have studied more than our- selves. But, after all, it is best to be determined in this particular a good deal by our own tastes. The best books for a man are not alw'ays those which the wise recommend, but oftener those which meet the peculiar wants, the natural thirst of his mind, and therefore awaken interest and rivet thought. And here it may be well to observe, not only in regard to books, but in other respects, that self-culture must vary with the individual. All means do not equally suit us all. A man must unfold himself freely, and should respect the peculiar gifts or biases by which nature has distinguished him from others. Self- culture does not demand the sacrifice of individuality. It does not regularly apply an established machinery, for the sake of torturing every man into one rigid shape, called perfection. As the human countenance, with the same features in us all, is diversified without end in the race, and is never the same in any two individuals, so the human soul, with the same grand powers and laws, expands into an infinite variety of forms, and would be wofully stinted by modes of culture requiring all men to learn the same lesson, or to bend to the same rules. I know how hard it is to some men, especially to those who spend much time in manual labour, to fix attention on books. Let them strive to overcome the difficulty by choosing subjects of deep interest, or by reading in com- pany with those whom they love. Nothing can supply the place of books. They are cheering or soothing com- panions in solitude, illness, affliction. The wealth of both continents would not compensate for the good they im- part. Let every man, if possible, gather some good books under his roof, and obtain access for himself and family to some social library. Almost any luxury should be sacrificed to this. One of the very interesting features of our times is the multiplication of books, and their distribution through all conditions of society. At a small expense, a man can now possess himself of the most precious treasures of English literature. Books, once confined to a few by their costliness, are now accessible to the multitude ; and in this way a change of habits is going on in society, highly favourable to the culture of the people. Instead of depending on casual rumour and loose conversation for most of their knowledge and objects of thought ; instead of forming their judgments in crowds, and receiving their chief excitement from the voice of neighbours; men are now learning to study and reflect alone, to follow out subjects continuously, to determine for themselves what shall engage their minds, and to call to their aid the knowledge, original views, and reasonings of men of all countries and ages; and the results must be, a deliberate- ness and independence of judgment, and a thoroughness and extent of information, unknown in former times. The diffusion of these silent teachers, books, through the whole community, is to work greater effects than artillery, machinery, and legislation. Its peaceful agency is to supersede stormy revolutions. The culture, which it is to spread, whilst an unspeakable good to the individual, is also to become the stability of nations. Another important means of self-culture is to free our- selves from the power of human opinion and example, except as far as this is sanctioned by our own deliberate judgment. Wffi are all prone to keep the level of those we live with, to repeat their words, and dress our minds as well as bodies after their fashion; and hence the spirit- less tameness of our characters and lives. Our greatest danger is not from the grossly wicked around us, but from the worldly unreflecting multitude, who are borne along as a stream by foreign impulse, and bear us along with them. Even the influence of superior minds may harm us, by bowing us to servile acquiescence and damping our spiritual activity. The great use of intercourse with other minds, is to stir up our own, to whet our aj jjetite for truth, to carry our thoughts beyond their old track.s. We need connections with great thinkers to make us 72 SELF-CULTURE. thinkers too. One of the chief arts of self-culture is to I unite the child-like teachableness, which gratefully wel- j comes light from every human being who can give it, with ^ manly resistance of opinions however current, of intlu- , ences however generally revered, which do not approve ; themselves to our deliberate judgment. You ought, t indeed, patiently and conscientiously to strengthen your | reason by other men’s intelligence, but you must not ; prostrate it before them. Especially if there springs up j within you any view of God’s word or universe, any senti- i ment or aspiration which seems to you of a higher order j than what you meet abroad, give reverent heed to it ; | inquire into it earnestly, solemnly. Do not trust it j blindly, for it maybe an illusion; but it maybe the Divi- i nity moving within you, a new revelation, not supernatural, ' but still most precious, of truth or duty ; and if, after [ inquiry, it so appear, then let no clamour, or scorn, or | desertion turn you from it. Be true to your own highest | convictions. Intimations from our own souls of some- [ thing more perfect than others teach, if faithfully followed, give us a consciousness of spiritual force and progress, never experienced by the vulgar of high life or low life, who march as they are drilled, to the step of their times. Some, I know, will wonder that I should think the mass of the people capable of such intimations and glimpses of truth as I have just supposed. These are commonly thought to be the prerogative of men of genius, who seem to be born to give law to the minds of the i multitude. Undoubtedly nature has her nobility, and j sends forth a few to be eminently “ lights of the world.” But it is also true that a portion of the same divine fire j is given to all ; for the many could not receive with , a loving reverence the quickening influences of the few, ; were there not essentially the same spiritual life in both. The minds of the multitude are not masses of passive matter, created to receive impressions unresistingly from abroad. They are not wholly shaped by foreign instruc- ' tion, but have a native force, a spring of thought in themselves. Even the child’s mind outruns its lessons, and overflows in tjuestionings which bring the wisest to a stand. Even the child starts the great problem which I philosophy has laboured to solve for ages. But on this j subject I cannot now enlarge. Let me only say, that the | jiower of -original thought is particularly manifested in | those who thirst for progress, who are bent on unfolding their whole nature. A man who wakes up to the con- sciousness of having been created for progress and per- fection, looks with new eyes on himself and on the world ! in which he lives. This great truth stirs the soul from i its depths, breaks up old associations of ideas, and esta- I blishes new ones, just as a mighty agent of chemistry, ; brought into contact with natural substances, dissolves \ the old affinities which had bound their particles together, ; and arranges them anew. This truth particularly aids us | to penetrate the mysteries of human life. By revealing | to us the end of our being, it helps us to comprehend i more and more the wonderful, the infinite system, to -which we belong. A man in the common walks of life, who has faith in perfection, in the unfolding of the human spirit, as the great purpose of God, possesses more the secret of the universe, perceives more the harmonies or mutual adaptations of the world without and the world within him, is a wiser interpreter of Providence, and reads nobler lessons of duty in the events which pass before him, than the profoundest philosopher who wants this grand central truth. Thus illuminations, inward suggestions, are not confined to a favoured few, but visit all who devote themselves to a generous self-culture. Another means of self-culture may be found by every man in his Condition or Occupation, be it what it may. Had I time, I might go through all conditions of life, from the most conspicuous to the most obscure, and might show how each furnishes continual aids to improve- ment. But I will take one example, and that is, of a man living by manual labour. 'I'his may be made the means of self-culture. For instance, in almost all labour, a man exchanges his strength for an equivalent in the form of wages, purchase-money, or some other product. In other words, labour is a system of contracts, bargains, imposing mutual obligations. Now the man who, in working, no matter in what way, strives perpetually to fulfil his obligations thoroughly, to do his whole work faithfully, to be honest, not because honesty is tlie best policy, but for the sake of justice, and that he may render to every man his due, such a labourer is con- tinually building up in himself one of the greatest prin- ciples of morality and religion. Every blow on the anvil, on the earth, or whatever material he works upon, contributes something to the perfection of his nature. Nor is this all. Labour is a school of benevolence as well as justice. A man, to supiiort himself, must serve others. He must do or jiroduce something for tlieir comfort or gratification, 'i'his is one of the beautiful, ordinations of Providence, that, to get a living, a man must be useful. Now this usefulness ought to be an end in his labour as truly as to earn his living. He ought to think of the benefit of those he works for, as well as of his own ; and in so doing, in desiring amidst his sweat and toil to serve others as well as himself, he is exercising and growing in benevolence as truly as if he were dis- tributing bounty with a large hand to the jioor. Such a motive hallows and dignifies the commonest pursuit. It is strange that labouring men do not think more of the vast usefulness of their toils, and take a benevolent pleasure in them on this account. 'I'his beautiful city, with its houses, furniture, markets, public walks, and numberless accommodations, has grown up under the hands of artisans and other labourers ; and ought they not to take a disinterested joy in their work ? One would think that a carpenter or mason, on passing a house which he had reared, would say to himself, “ 'Phis work of mine is giving comfort and enjoyment every day and hour to a family, and will continue to be a kindly shelter, a domestic gathering-place, an abode of affection for a century or more after I sleep in the dust and ought not a generous satisfaction to spring up at the thought ? It is by thus interweaving goodness with common labours that we give it strength, and make it a habit of the soul. Again. Labour may be so performed as to be a high impulse to the mind. Be a man’s vocation what it may, his rule should be to do its duties perfectly, to do the best he can, and thus to make perpetual progress in his art. In other words, Perfection should be proposed ; and this I urge not only for its usefulness to society, nor for the sincere pleasure which a man takes in seeing a work well done. This is an important means of self- culture. In this way the idea of Perfection takes root in the mind, and spreads far beyond the man’s trade. He gets a tendency towards completeness in whatever he undertakes. Slack, slovenly performance in any depart- ment of life is more apt to offend him. His standard of SELF-CULTURE. 73 action rises, and everything is better done for his thorough ness in his common vocation. There is one circumstance attending all conditions of life which may and ought to be turned to the use of self- culture. Every condition, be it what it may, has hardships, hazards, pains. We try to escape them ; we pine for a sheltered lot, for a smooth path, for cheering friends, and unbroken success. But Providence ordains storms, disasters, hostilities, sufferings : and the great question, whether we shall live to any purpose or not, whether we shall grow strong in mind and heart, or be weak and pitiable, depends on nothing so much as on our use of these adverse circumstances. Outward evils are designed to school our passions, and to rouse our faculties and virtues into intenser action. Sometimes they seem to create new powers. Difficulty is the element, and resist- ance the true work of a man. Self-culture never goes on so fast as when embarrassed circumstances, the opposition of men or the elements, unexpected changes of the times, ' or other forms of suffering, instead of disheartening, throw us on our inward resources, turn us for strength to (lod, clear up to us the great purpose of life, and inspire calm resolution. No greatness or goodness is worth much unless tried in these fires. Hardships are not on this account to be sought for. They come fast enough of themselves, and we are in more danger of sinking under than of needing them. But, when God sends them, they are noble means of self-culture, and as such let us meet and bear them cheerfully. Thus all parts of our condition may be pressed into the service of self- improvement. I have time to consider but one more means of self culture. We find it in our Free Government, in our Political relations and duties. It is a great benefit of free institutions, that they do much to awaken and keep in action a nation’s mind. We are told that the education | of the multitude is necessary to the support of a republic; j but it is equally true, that a republic is a powerful means of educating the multitude. It is the people’s University. In a free State, solemn responsibilities are imposed on ^ every citizen ; great subjects are to be discussed ; great interests to be decided. The individual is called to determine measures affecting the well-being of millions j and the destinies of posterity. He must consider not only the internal relations of his native land, but its con- nection with foreign States, and judge of a policy which j touches the whole civilised world He is called by his ’ participation in the national sovereignty, to cherish public spirit, a regard to the general weal. A man who purposes to discharge faithfully these obligations, is carrying on a generous self-culture. The great public questions which divide opinion around him and provoke earnest discussion, of necessity invigorate his intellect, and accustom him to look beyond himself. He grows up to a robustness, force, enlargement of mind, unknown under despotic rule. It may be said that I am describing what free insti- tutions ought to do for the character of the individual, not their actual effects ; and the objection, I must own, is too true. Our institutions do not cultivate us as they might and should ; and the chief cause of the failure is plain. It is the strength of party spirit ; and so blighting is its influence, so fatal to self-culture, that I feel myself bound to warn every man against it, w’ho has any desire of improvement. I do not tell you it will destroy your country. It wages a worse war against yourselves. Truth, justice, candour, fair dealing, sound judgment. self-control, and kind affections, are its natural and ])erpetual prey. I do not say that you must take no side in politic.s. The parties which prevail around you differ in character, principles, and spirit, though far less than the exaggeration of passion affirms; and, as far as conscience allows, a man should support that which he thinks best. In one respect, however, all parties agree. They all foster that pestilent spirit which I now' condemn. In all of them party spirit rages. Associate men together for a common cause, be it good or bad, and array against them a body resolutely pledged to an opposite interest, and a new passion, quite distinct from the original sentiment which brought them together, a fierce, fiery zeal, consisting chiefly of aversion to those who differ from them, is roused within them into fearful activity. Human nature seems incapable of a stronger, more unrelenting passion. It is hard enough for an individual, when contending all alone for an interest or an opinion, to keep down his pride, wilfulness, love of victory, anger, and other personal feelings. But let him join a multitude in the same warfare, and, without singular self-control, he receives into his single breast the vehemence, obstinacy, and vindictiveness of all. The triumph of his party becomes immeasurably dearer to him than the principle, true or false, w'hich was the original ground of division. The conflict becomes a struggle, not for principle, but for power, for victory ; and the desperateness, the wickedness of such struggles, is the great burden of history. In truth, it matters little what men divide about, w’hether it be a foot of land or precedence in a procession. Let them but begin to fight for it, and self-will, ill-will, the rage for victory, the dread of mortification and defeat, make the trifle as w'eighty as a matter of life and death. The Greek or Eastern empire was shaken to its foundation by parties which differed only about th^ merits of charioteers at the amphitheatre. Party spirit is singularly hostile to moral independence. A man, in proportion as he drinks into it, sees, hear.s, judges by the senses and understandings of his party. He surrenders the freedom of a man, the right of using and speaking his own mind, and echoes the applauses or maledictions with which the leaders or passionate partisans see fit that the country should ring. On all point.s, parties are to be distrusted ; but on no one so much as on the character of opponents. These, if you may trust what you hear, are always men without principle and truth, devoured by selfishness, and thirsting for their own elevation, though on their country’s ruin. When 1 w'as young, I w’as accustomed to hear pronounced with abhorrence, almost with execration, the names of men who are now hailed by their former foes as the champions of grand principles, and as worthy of the highest public trusts. This lesson of early experience, which later years have corroborated, will never be forgotten. Of our present political divisions I have of course nothing to say. But, among the current topics of party, there are certain accusations and recriminations, grounded on differences of social condition, which seem to me so unfriendly to the improvement of individuals and the community, that I ask the privilege of giving them a moment’s notice. On one side we are told, that the rich are disposed to trample on the poor ; and, on the other, that the poor look with evil eye and hostile purpose on the possessions of the rich. These outcries seem to me alike devoid of truth and alike demoralising. As for the rich, who constitute but a handful of our population, who 74 SELF-CULTURE. possess not one peculiar privilege, and, what is more, who jiossess comparatively little of the property of the country, it is wonderful that they should be objects of alarm. The vast and ever-growing property of this country, where is it ? Locked up in a few hands ? — hoarded in a few strong boxes ? It is diffused like the atmosphere, and almost as variable, changing hands with the seasons, shifting from rich to poor, not by the violence, but by the industry and skill of the latter class. The wealth of the rich is as a drop in the ocean ; and it is a well-known fact, that those men among us who are noted for their opulence exert hardly any political i)ower on the community. I'hat the rich do their whole duty ; that they adopt, as they .should, the great object of the social state, which is the elevation of the people in intelligence, character, and condition, cannot be pretended ; but that they feel for the physical sufferings of their brethren, that they stretch out liberal hands for the succour of the poor, and for the support of useful public institutions, cannot be denied. Among them are admirable specimens of humanity. There is no warrant for holding them up to susjjicion as the people’s foes. Nor do I regard as less calumnious the outcry against the working classes, as if they were aiming at the sub- version of i)roperty. ^^'hen we think of the general condition and character of this part of our po])ulation. when we recollect that they were born and have lived amidst schools and churches, that they have been brought up to profitable industry, that they enjoy many of the accommodations of life, that most of them hold a measure of property, and are hojiing for more, that they possess unprecedented means of bettering their lot, that they are bound to comfortable homes by strong domestic affections, that they are able to give their children an education which places within their reach the prizes of the social state, that they are trained to the habits, and familiarised to the advantages, of a high civilisation ; when we recol- lect these things, can we imagine that they are so insanely blind to their interests, so deaf to the claims of justice and religion, so profligately thoughtless of the peace and safety of their families, as to be prepared to make a wreck of social order, for the sake of dividing among themselves the spoils of the rich, which would not support the com- munity fon a month ? Undoubtedly there is insecurity in all stages of society, and so there must be until com- munities shall be regenerated by a higher culture, reaching and quickening all classes of the people ; but there is not, I believe, a spot on earth where jjroperty is safer than here, because nowhere else is it so equally and righteously diffused. In aristocracies, where wealtli exists in enor- mous masses, which have been entailed for ages by a partial legislation on a lavoured few, and where the multitude, after the sleep of ages, are waking up to intelligence, to self-respect, and to a knowledge of their rights, property is exposed to shocks which are not to be dreaded among ourselves. Here, indeed as elsew'here, among the less prosperous members of the community, there are disappointed, desperate men, ripe for tumult and civil strife, but it is also true, that the most striking and honourable distinction of this country is to be found in the intelligence, character, and condition of the great working class, d'o me, it seems that the great danger to property here is not from the labourer, but from those who are making haste to be rich. For example, in this commonwealth, no act has been thought by the alarmists or the conservatives so subversive of the rights of property ^ as a recent law, authorising a company to construct a free I bridge, in the immediate neighbourhood of another, which had been chartered by a former Legislature, and which had been erected in the expectation of an exclusive right. And with whom did this alleged assault on ; property originate? With levellers? with needy labourers? ! with men bent on the prostration of the rich ? No ; but with men of business, who are anxious to push a more lucrative trade. Again, what occurrence among us has I been so suited to destroy confidence, and to stir up the I people against the moneyed class, as the late criminal mismanagement of some of our banking institutions ? I And whence came this ? from the rich, or the poor ? From the agrarian, or the man of business ? ^Vho, let j me ask, carry on the work of spoliation most extensively in society ? Is not more ju'ojierty wrested from its owners ' by rash or dishonest failures than by professed highwaymen and thieves ? Have not a few unjwincipled speculators sometimes inflicted wider wrongs and sufferings than all the tenants of a State prison ? Thus projierty is in more i danger from those who are aspiring after wealth than from ; those who live by the sweat of their brow. I do not believe, however, that the institution is in serious danger I from either. All the advances of society in industry, ' useful arts, commerce, knowledge, jurisprudence, fraternal union, and i)ractical Christianity, are so many hedges I around honestly accpiired wealth, so many barriers against ' revolutionary violence and rai)acity. Let us not torture ourselves with idle alarms, and, still more, let us not inflame ourselves against one another by mutual calumnies. Let not class array itself against class, where all have a common interest. One way of provoking men to crime is to suspect them of criminal designs. We do not i secure our jiroperty against the ])oor by accusing them ! of schemes of universal roI)bery, nor render the rich better friends of the community by fixing on them the j brand of hostility to the people. Of all parties, those founded on different social conditions are the most per- nicious; and in no country on earth are they so groundless as in our own. I Among the best people, especially among the more religious, there are some who, through disgust with the violence and frauds of parties, withdraw themselves from all political action. Such, I conceive, do wrong. Cod , has placed them in the relations, and imposed on them j the duties, of citizens ; and they are no more authorised to shrink from these duties than from those of sons, husbands, or fathers. They owe a great debt to their i country, and must discharge it by giving support to what j they deem the best men and the best measures. Nor let them say that they can do nothing. Every good man, if faithful to his convictions, benefits his country. All ’ parties are kept in check by the spirit of the better portion ^ of peojile whom they contain. Leaders are always com- ! pelled to ask what their party will bear, and to modify their measures, so as not to shock the men of principle within their ranks. A good man, not tamely subservient i to the body with which he acts, but judging it impartially, I criticising it freely, bearing testimony against its evils, and withholding his support from wrong, does good to those around him, and is cultivating generously his I own mind. ! I respectfully counsel those whom I address to take part in the politics of their country. These are the true discipline of a people, and do much for their education. I counsel you to labour for a clear understanding of the SELF-CULTURE. 75 subjects which agitate the community, to make them your study, instead of wasting your leisure in vague, passionate talk about them. The time thrown away by the mass of the people on the rumours of the day might, if better spent, give them a good acquaintance with the con- stitution, laws, history, and interests of their country, and thus establish them in those great principles by which particular measures are to be determined. In proportion as the people thus improve themselves, they will cease to be the tools of designing politicians. Their intelligence, not their passions and jealousies, will be addressed by those who seek their votes. They will exert, not a nomi- nal, but a real influence on the government and the destinies of the country, and at the same time will forward their own growth in truth and virtue. I ought not to quit this subject of j^olitics, considered as a means of self-culture, without speaking of newspapers; because these form the chief reading of the bulk of the people. They are the literature of multitudes. Unhappily, their importance is not understood ; their bearing on the intellectual and moral cultivation of the community little thought of. A newspaper ought to be conducted by one of our most gifted men, and its income should be such as to enable him to secure the contributions of men as gifted as himself. But we must take newspapers as they are ; and a man anxious for self-culture may turn them to account, if he will select the best within his reach. He should exclude from his house such as are venomous or scurrilous, as he would a pestilence. He should be swayed in his choice, not merely by the ability with which a paper is conducted, but still more by its spirit, by its justice, fairness, and steady adherence to great principles. Especially, if he would know the truth, let him hear both sides. Let him read the defence as well as the attack. Let him not give his ear to one party exclusively. We condemn ourselves, when we listen to reproaches thrown on an individual and turn away from his exculpation; and is it just to read continual, unsparing invective against large masses of men, and refuse them the ojiportunity of justifying themselves ? A new class of daily papers has sprung up in our country, sometimes called cent papers, and designed for circulation among those who cannot afford costlier publi- cations. My interest in the working class induced me some time ago to take one of these, and I was gratified to find it not wanting in useful matter. Two things, how- ever, gave me pain. The advertising columns were devoted very much to patent medicines ; and when I considered that a labouring man’s whole fortune is his health, I could not but lament that so much was done to seduce him to the use of articles more fitted, I fear, to undermine than to restore his constitution. I was also shocked by accounts of trials in the police court. These were written in a style adapted to the most uncultivated mind.s, and intended to turn into matters of sport the most painful and humiliating events of life. Were the newspapers of the rich to attempt to extract amusement from the vices and miseries of the poor, a cry would be raised against them, and very justly. But is it not some- thing worse, that the poorer classes themselves should seek occasions of laughter and merriment in the degra- dation, the crimes, the woes, the punishments of their brethren, of those who are doomed to bear like themselves the heaviest burdens of life, and who have sunk under the temptations of poverty ? Better go to the hospital, and laugh over the wounds and writhings of the sick or the ravings of the insane, than amuse ourselves with brutal excesses and infernal passions, which not only expose the criminal to the crushing penalties of human laws, but incur the displeasure of Heaven, and, if not repented of, will be followed by the fearful retribution of the life to come. One important topic remains. That great means of self-improvement, Christianity, is yet untouched, and its greatness forbids me now to approach it. I will only say, that if you study Christianity in its original records, and not in human creeds ; if you consider its clear revelations of God, its life-giving promises of pardon and spiritual strength, its correspondence to man’s reason, conscience, and best affections, and its adaptation to his wants, sorrows, anxieties, and fears ; if you consider the strength of its proofs, the purity of its precepts, the divine greatness of the character of its author, and the immor- tality which it ojjcns before us, you will feel yourselves bound to welcome it joyfully, gratefully, as affording aids and incitements to self-culture which would vainly be sought in all other means. I have thus ])resented a few of the means of self-culture. The topics now discussed will, I hope, suggest others to those who have honoured me with their attention, and create an interest which will extend beyond the present hour. I owe it, however, to truth to make one remark. I wish to raise no unreasonable hopes. I must say, then, that the means now recommended to you, though they will richly reward every man of every age who will faithfully use them, will yet not produce their full and happiest effect, except in cases where early education has prepared the mind for future improvement. They whose childhood has been neglected, though they may make ]jrogress in future life, can hardly repair the loss of their first years ; and I say this, that we may all be excited to save our children from this loss, that we may prepare them, to the extent of our power, for an effectual use of all the means of self-culture which adult age may bring with it. AVith these views, I ask you to look with favour on the recent exertions of our Legislature and of private citizens in behalf of our public schools, the chief hope of our country. The Legislature has of late appointed a board of education, with a secretary, who is to devote his whole time to the improvement of public schools. An individual more fitted to this responsible office than the gentleman who now fills it* cannot, I believe, be found in our com- munity ; and if his labours shall be crowned with success, he will earn a title to the gratitude of the good people of this State, unsurpassed by that of any other living citizen. Let me also recall to your minds a munificent individual,! who, by a generous donation, has encouraged the Legis- lature to resolve on the establishment of one or more institutions called Normal Schools, the object of which is to prepare accomplished teachers of youth, a work on which the progress of education depends more than on any other measure. The efficient friends of education are the true benefactors of their country, and their names deserve to be handed down to that posterity for whose highest wants they are generously providing. There is another mode of advancing education in our whole country, to which I a.sk your particular attention. You are aware of the vast extent and value of the public- lands of the Union. By annual sales of these, large amounts of money are brought into the national treasury, which are apjflied to the current ex])enscs of the Govern- * llcr.ice Mann, E.so. t Fflnnu'.d Dwight, Ksn. 76 SELF-CULTURE. mcnt. For this ap])lication there is no need. In truth, tlie country has received detriment from the excess of its revenues. Now, I ask, why shall not the public lands be consecrated (in whole or in part, as the case may require) 1 to the education of the people ? 'I’his measure would j secure at once what the country most needs, that is, able, | accomplished, quickening teachers of the whole rising j generation. The present poor remuneration of instructors is a dark omen, and the only real obstacle which the i cause of education has to contend with. We need for our schools gifted men and women, worthy, by their i intelligence and their moral power, to be entrusted with I a nation’s youth; and, to gain these, we must pay them ' liberally, as well as afford other proofs of the consideration ^ in which we hold them. In the present state of the j country, when so many paths of wealth and promotion are opened, superior men cannot be won to an office so responsible and laborious as that of teaching, without ! stronger inducements than are now offered, except in some of our large cities. The office of instructor ought to rank and be recompensed as one of the most honourable in society; and I see not how this is to be d one, at least in our day, without appropriating to it the public domain. This is the people’s jiropcrty, and the only part of their property which is likely to lie soon devoted to the support of a high order of institutions for imblic education. This object, interesting to all classes of society, has peculiar claims on those whose means of improvement are restricted liy narrow circumstances. The mass of the people should devote themselves to it as one man, should toil for it with one soul. Mechanics, Farmers, Labourers ! let the country echo with your united cry, “The Public Lands for Education.” Send to the public councils men who will plead this cause with power. No party triumphs, no trades-unions, no associa- tions, can so contribute to elevate you as the measure now proposed. Nothing but a higher education can raise you in influence and true dignity. 'I'he resources of the public ' domain, wisely applied for successive generations to the culture of society and of the indi- \ idual, would create a new peojjle, would awaken through this community intellectual and moral energies such as the records of no country disj)lay, and as would command tlie respect and emulation of the civilised world. In this grand object, the working men of all parties, and in all divisions of the land, should join with an enthusiasm not to be withstood. 'Fhey should separate it from all narrow and local strife. They should not suffer it to be mixed up with the schemes of politicians. In it, they and their children have an infinite stake. May they be true to themselves, to posterity, to their country, to freedom, to the cause of mankind ! III. I am aware that the whole doctrine of this dis- course will meet with opjiosition. There are not a few who will say to me, “ 'W’hat you tell us sounds well; but it is impracticable. Men who dream in their closets spin beautiful theories, but actual life scatters them, as the wind snaps the cobweb. You would have all men to be cultivated, but necessity wills that most men shall work; and which of the two is likely to prevail ? A weak sentimentality may shrink from the truth; still it /s true that most men were made, not for self-culture, but for toil.” I have put the objection into strong language, that we may all look it fairly in the face. For one, I deny its validity. Reason, as well as sentiment, rises up against it. The presumption is certainly very strong, that the All-wise Father, who has given to every human being reason and conscience and affection, intended that these should be unfolded; and it is hard to believe that He who, by conferring this nature on all men, has made all His children, has destined the groat majority to wear out a life of drudgery and unimproving toil for the benefit of a few. Hod cannot have made sjaritual beings to l)e dwarfed. In the body we see no organs created to shrivel by disuse; much less are the powers of the soul given to be locked up in perpetual lethargy. Perhaps it will be rei)licd, that the purpose of the Creator is to be gathered, not from theory, but from facts; and that it is a plain fact, that the order and pros- l)erity of society, which Hod must be supposed to intend, recpiire from the multitude the action of their hands, and not the improvement of their minds. I reply, that a social order demanding the sacrifice of the mind is very suspicious, that it cannot, indeed, be sanctioned by the Creator. I\'erc I, on visiting a strange country, to see the vast majority of the peoi)le maimed, crippled, and bereft of sight, and were I told that social order required this mutilation, I should say. Perish this order. Who wotild not think his understanding as well as best feelings insulted, by hearing this spoken of as the intention of Hod? Nor ought we to look with less aversion on a social system which can only be upheld by crippling and blinding the Minds of the peojile. Rut to come nearer to the point. Are labour and self- culture irreconcilable to each other ? In the first place, we have seen that a man, in the midst of labour, may and ought to give himself to the most important improvements, that he may cultivate his sense of justice, his benevolence, and the desire of perfection. 'Foil is the school for these high principles ; and we have here a strong presumption that, in other respects, it does not necessarily blight the soul. Next, we have seen that the most fruitful sources of truth and wisdom are not books, precious as they are, but experience and observation ; and these belong to all condition.s. It is another important consideration, that almost all labour demands intellectual activity, and is best carried on by those who invigorate their minds ; so that the two interests, toil and self-culture, are friends to each other. It is Mind, after all, which does the work of the world, so that the more there is of mind, the more work will be accomplished. A man, in proportion as he is intelligent makes a given force accomplish a greater task, makes skill take the place of muscles, and, with less labour, gives a better product. Make men intelligent, and they become inventive. They find shorter processes. Their knowledge of nature helps them to turn its laws to account, to understand the substances on which they work, and to seize on useful hints, which experience con- tinually furnishes. It is among workmen that some of the most useful machines have been contrived. Spread education, and, as the history of this country shows, there will be no bounds to useful inventions. You think that a man without culture will do all the better what you call the drudgery of life. Ho, then, to the Southern plan tation. 'Fhere the slave is brought up to be a mere drudge. He is robbed of the rights of a man, his w'hole spiritual nature is starved, that he may work, and do nothing but work; and in that slovenly agriculture, in that worn-out soil, in the rude state of the mechanic arts, you may find a comment on your doctrine, that, by de- grading men, you make them more jwoductive labourers. SELF-CULTURE. 77 But it is said, that any considerable education lifts men above their work, makes them look with disgust on their trades as mean and low, makes drudgery intolerable. I reply, that a man becomes interested in labour just in proportion as the mind works with the hands. An en- lightened farmer, who understands agricultural chemistry, the laws of vegetation, the structure of plants, the pro- perties of manures, the influences of climate, who looks intelligently on his work, and brings his knowledge to bear on exigencies, is a much more cheerful, as well as more dignified labourer, than the peasant whose mind is akin to the clod on which he tread.s, and whose whole life is the same dull, unthinking, unimproving toil. But this is not all. Why is it, I ask, that we call manual labour low, that we associate with it the idea of meanness, and think that an intelligent people must scorn it ? The great reason is, that, in most countries, so few intelligent people have been engaged in it. Once let cultivated men plough, and dig, and follow the commonest labours, and ploughing, digging, and trades will cease to be mean. It is the man who determines the dignity of the occupation, not the occupation which measures the dignity of the man. Physicians and surgeons perform operations less cleanly than fall to the lot of most mechanics. I have seen a distinguished chemist covered with dust like a labourer. Still these men were not degraded. Their intelligence gave dignity to their work, and so our labourers, once educated, will give dignity to their toils. Let me add, that I see little difference in point of dignity between the various vocations of men. When I see a clerk spending his days in adding figures, perhaps merely copying, or a teller of a bank counting money, or a merchant selling shoes and hides, I cannot see in these occupations greater respectableness than in making leather, shoes, or furniture. I do not see in them greater intellectual activity than in several trades. A man in the fields seems to have more chances of improvement in his work than a man behind the counter, or a man driving the quill. It is the sign of a narrow mind to imagine, as many seem to do, that there is a repugnance between the plain, coarse exterior of a labourer, and mental culture, especially the more refining culture. The labourer, under his dust and sweat, carries the grand elements of humanity, and he may put forth its highest powers. I doubt not there is as genuine enthusiasm in the contemplation of nature, and in the perusal of works of genius, under a homespun garb as under finery. We have heard of a distinguished author who never wrote so well as when he was full dressed for company. But profound thought and poetical inspiration have most generally visited men when, from narrow cir- cumstances or negligent habits, the rent coat and shaggy face have made them quite unfit for polished saloons. A man may see truth, and may be thrilled with beauty, in one costume or dwelling as well as another; and he should respect himself the more for the hardships under which his intellectual force has been developed. But it will be asked, how can the labouring classes find time for self-culture? I answer, as I have already intimated, that an earnest purpose finds time or makes time. It seizes on spare moments, and turns large frag- ments of leisure to golden account. A man who follows his calling with industry and spirit, and uses his earnings economically, will always have some portion of the day at command; and it is astonishing how fruitful of improvement a short season becomes, when eagerly seized and faithfully used. It has often been observed. that they who have most time at their disposal profit by it least. A single hour in the day, steadily given to the study of an interesting subject, brings unexpected accu- mulations of knowledge. The improvements made by well-disposed pupils, in many of our country schools, which are open but three months in the year, and in our Sunday-schools, which are kept but one or two hours in the week, show what can be brought to pass by slender means. The affections, it is said, sometimes crowd years into moments, and the intellect has something of the same power. Volumes have not only been read, but written, in flying journeys. I have known a man of vigorous intellect, who had enjoyed few advantages of early education, and whose mind was almost engrossed by the details of an extensive business, but who com- posed a book of much original thought, in steamboats and on horseback, while visiting distant customers. The succession of the seasons gives to many of the working class opportunities for intellectual improvement. The winter brings leisure to the husbandman, and winter evenings to many labourers in the city. Above all, in Christian countries, the seventh day is released from toil. The seventh part of the year, no small portion of exist- ence, may be given by almost every one to intellectual and moral culture. Why is it that Sunday is not made a more effectual means of improvement? Undoubtedly the seventh day is to have a religious character; but religion connects itself with all the great subjects of human thought, and leads to and aids the study of all. God is in nature. God is in history. Instruction in the works of the Creator, so as to reveal his perfection in their harmony, beneficence, and grandeur; instruction in the histories of the church and the world, so as to show in all events his moral government, and to bring out the great moral lessons in which human life abounds ; instruc- tion in the lives of philanthropists, of saints, of men eminent for piety and virtue; all these branches of teach- ing enter into religion, and are appropriate to Sunday; and, through these, a vast amount of knowledge may be given to the people. Sunday ought not to remain the dull and fruitless season that it now is to multitudes. It may be clothed with a new interest and a new sanctity. It may give a new impulse to the nation’s soul. — I have thus shown that time may be found for improvement; and the fact is, that among our most improved people, a considerable part consists of persons who pass the greatest portion of every day at the desk, in the counting-room, or in some other sphere, chained to tasks which have very little tendency to expand the mind. In the progress of society, with the increase of machinery, and with other aids which intelligence and philanthropy will multiply, we may expect that more and more time will be redeemed from manual labour for intellectual and social occupa- tions. But some will say, “ Be it granted that the working classps may find some leisure; should they not be allowed to spend it in relaxation? Is it not cruel to summon them from toils of the hand to toils of the mind? They have earned pleasure by the day’s toil, and ought to par- take of it.” Yes, let them have pleasure. Far be it from me to dry up the fountains, to blight the spots of verdure, where they refresh themselves after life’s labours. But I maintain that self-culture multiplies and increases their pleasures, that it creates new capacities of enjoyment, that it saves their leisure from being, what it too often is, dull and wearisome, that it saves them from rushing for 78 SELF-CULTURE. excitement to indulgences destructive to body and soul. It is one of the great benefits of self-improvement, that it raises a people above the gratifications of the brute, and gives them pleasures worthy of men. In consequence of the present intellectual culture of our country, imperfect as it is, a vast amount of enjoyment is communicated to men, women, and children, of all conditions, by books — an enjoyment unknown to ruder times. At this moment, a number of gifted writers are employed in multiplying entertaining works. Walter Scott, a name conspicuous among the brightest of his day, poured out his inexhausti- ble mind in fictions, at once so sportive and thrilling, that they have taken their place among the delights of all civilised nations. How many millions have been chained to his Images! How many melancholy spirits has he steeped in forgetfulness of their cares and sorrows ! IVhat multitudes, wearied by their day’s work, have owed some bright evening hours and balmier sleep to his magical creations! And not only do fictions give plea- sure. In proportion as the mind is cultivated, it takes delight in history and biography, in descriptions of nature, in travels, in poetry, and even in graver works. Is the labourer, then, defrauded of jjleasure by improvement? There is another class of gratifications to which self- culture introduces the mass of the jjeople. I refer to lectures, discussions, meetings of associations for benevo- lent and literary purposes, and to other like methods of passing the evening, which every year is multiplying among us. A popular address from an enlightened man, who has the tact to reach the minds of the peoj)le, is a high gratification, as well as a source of knowledge. 'I’iie profound silence in our public halbs, where these lectures are delivered to crowds, shows that cultivation is no foe to enjoyment. I have a strong hope, that by the progress of intelligence, taste, and morals among all jjortions of society, a class of public amusements will grow tqj among us, bearing some resemblance to the theatre, but purified from the gross evils which degrade our present stage, and which, I trust, will seal its ruin. Dramatic performances and recitations are means of bringing the mass of the people into a quicker sympathy with a writer of genius, to a profounder comprehension of his grand, beautiful, touching conceptions, than can be effected by the reading of the closet. No commentary throws such a light on a great poem, or any impassioned work of literature, as the voice of a reader or speaker who brings to the task a deep feeling of his author and rich and various powers of expression. A crowd, electrified by a sublime thought, or softened into a humanising sorrow, under such a voice, partake a pleasure at once exquisite and refined; and I cannot but believe that this and other amusements, at which the delicacy of woman and the purity of the Christian can take no offence, are to grow up under a higher social cul- ture. Let me only add, that, in proportion as culture spreads among a people, the cheapest and commonest of all pleasures, conversation, increases in delight. This, after all, is the great amusement of life, cheering us round our hearths, often cheering our work, stirring our hearts gently, acting on us like the balmy air or the bright light of heaven, so silently and continually, that we hardly think of its influence. This source of happiness is too often lost to men of all classes for want of knowledge, mental activity, and refinement of feeling; and do we defraud the labourer of his pleasure by recommending to him improvements which will place the daily, hourly blessings of conversation within his reach? I have thus considered some of the common objections which start up when the culture of the mass of men is insisted on as the great end of society. For myself, these objections seem worthy little notice, d'he doctrine is too shocking to need refutation, that the great majority of human beings, endowed as they are with rational and immortal powers, are placed on earth sim})ly to toil for their own animal subsistence, and to niinister to the luxury and elevation of the few. It is monstrous, it approaches impiety, to suppose that (lod has ])laccd insuperable barriers to the expansion of the free, illimit- able soul. I'rue, there are obstructions in the way of improvement. But, in this country, the chief obstruc- tions lie, not in our lot, but in ourselves — not in outward hardshi[)s, but in our worldly and sensual propensities; and one i)roof of this i.s, that a true .self-culture is as little thought of on exchange as in the workshop, as little among the prosperous as among those of narrower con- ditions. The path to perfection is difficult to men in every lot ; there is no royal road for rich or poor. But difficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage. The human si)irit is to grow strong by conflict. And how much has it already overcome! Under what burdens of o])pression has it made its way for ages ! What mountains of difficulty has it cleared! And with all this experience, shall we say that the progress of the mass of men is to be despaired of, that the chains of bodily necessity are too strong and ponderous to be broken by the mind, that servile, unimproving drudgery is the unalterable condition of the multitude of the human race? I conclude with recalling to you the ha])piest feature of our age, and that is, the jirogress of the mass of the ])eople in intelligence, self-respect, and all the comforts of life. 'What a contrast does the present form with past times! Not many ages ago, the nation was the property of one man, and all its interests were staked in jrerpetual games of war, for no end but to build up his family, or to bring new' territories under his yoke. Society was divided into tw'o classes, the high-born and the vulgar, separated from one another by a great gulf, as impassable as that between the saved and the lost. The peo])le had no significance as individuals, but formed a mass, a machine, to be wielded at pleasure by their lords. In war, which was the great sport of the times, those brave knights, of whose prowess we hear, cased themselves and their horses in armour, so as to be almost invulnerable, whilst the common people on foot were left, without pro- tection, to be hewn in pieces or tramified down by their betters, ^\d^o, that compares the condition of Europe a few' years ago w'ith the present state of the world, but must bless God for the change ? The grand distinction of modern times is, the emerging of the people from brutal degradation, the gradual recognition of their rights, the gradual diffusion among them of the means of im- provement and happiness, the creation of a new pow'er in the State, the pow'er of the people. And it is w’orthy remark, that this revolution is due in a great degree to religion, w'hich, in the hands of the crafty and aspiring, had bowed the multitude to the dust, but which, in the fulness of time, began to fulfil its mission of freedom. It w'as religion w'hich, by teaching men their near relation to God, aw'akened in them the consciousness of their im- portance as individuals. It was the struggle for religious rights which opened men’s eyes to all their rights. It was resistance to religious usurpation w’hich led men to with- stand political oppression. It w’as religious discussion HONOUR DUE TO ALL MEN. 79 which roused the minds of all classes to free and vigorous thought. It was religion which armed the martyr and patriot in England against arbitrary power, which braced the sjnnts of our fathers against the perils of the ocean and wilderness, and sent them to found here the freest and most equal State on earth. Let us thank God for what has been gained. But let us not think everything gained. Let the people feel that they have only started in the race. How much remains to be done ! What a vast amount of ignorance, intemper- ance, coarseness, sensuality, may still be found in our community! What a vast amount of mind is palsied and lost ! When we think that every house might be cheered by intelligence, disinterestedness, and refinement, and then remember in how many houses the higher powers and affections of human nature are buried as in tombs, what a darkness gathers over society ! And how few of us are moved by this moral desolation? How few under- stand, that to raise the depressed, by a wise culture, to the dignity of men, is the highe.st end of the social state? Shame on us, that the worth of a fellow-creature is so little felt. I would that I could speak with an awakening voice to the people of their wants, their privileges, their responsi- bilities. I would say to them. You cannot, without guilt and disgrace, stop where you are. The past and the present call on you to advance. Let what you have gained be an impulse to something higher. Your nature is too great to be crushed. You were not created what you are merely to toil, eat, drink, and sleep, like the inferior animals. If you will, you can rise. No power in society, no hardship in your condition, can depress you, keep you down, in knowledge, power, virtue, influence, but by your own consent. Do not be lulled to sleep by the flatteries which you hear, as if your participation in the national sovereignty made you equal to the noblest of your race. You have many and great deficiencies to be remedied; and the remedy lies, not in the ballot-box, not in the exercise of your political powers, but in the faithful education of yourself and your children. These truths you have often heard and slept over. Awake ! Resolve earnestly on Self-culture. Make yourselves worthy of your free institutions, and strengthen and perpetuate them by your intelligence and your virtues. HONOUR' DUE TO ALL MEN. I Peter ii. 17: “ Honour all men.” Among the many and inestimable blessings of Christianity, I regard as not the least the new sentiment with which it teaches man to look upon his fellow-beings; the new interest which it awakens in us towards everything human ; the new' importance which it gives to the soul; the new relation which it establishes between man and man. In this respect it began a mighty revolution, which has been silently spreading itself through society, and wfliich, I believe, is not to stop until new ties shall have taken the place of those w'hich have hitherto, in the main, connected the human race. Christianity has as yet but begun its work of reformation. Under its influences a new' order of society is advancing, surely though slowly ; and this beneficent change it is to accomplish in no small measure by revealing to men their own nature, and teaching them to “ honour all ” who partake it. As yet Christianity has done little, compared w'ith w'hat it is to do, in establishing the true bond of union betw'een man and man. The old bonds of society still continue in a great degree. They are instinct, interest, force. The true tie, which is mutual respect, calling forth mutual, grow'ing, never-failing acts of love, is as yet little know'n. A new revelation, if I may so speak, remains to be made; or rather, the truths of the old revelation in regard to the greatness of human nature are to be brought out from obscurity and neglect. The soul is to be regarded w'ith a religious reverence hitherto unfelt; and the solemn claims of every being to whom this divine principle is imparted are to be established on the ruins of those pernicious principles, both in Church and State, w'hich have so long divided mankind into the classes of the abject Many and the self-exalting Few’. There is nothing of w'hich men know so little as them- selves. They understand incomparably more of the surrounding creation, of matter, and of its laws, than of that spiritual principle to which matter was made to be the minister, and w’ithout which the outward universe w'ould be w'orthless. Of course, no man can be w'holly a stranger to the soul, for the soul is himself, and he cannot but be conscious of its most obvious w’orking.s. But it is to most a chaos, a region shrouded in ever-shifting mists, baffling the eye and bewildering the imagination. The affinity of the mind with God, its moral pow’er, the pur- poses for W'hich its faculties were bestowed, its connection with futurity, and the dependence of its whole happiness on its ow'ii right action and progress, — these truths, though they might be expected to absorb us, are to most men little more than sounds, and to none of us those living realities which, I trust, they are to become. That conviction, without w'hich w'e are all poor, of the unlimited and immortal nature of the soul, remains in a great degree to be developed. Men have as yet no just respect for themselves, and of consequence no just respect for others. The true bond of society is thus wanting; and accordingly there is a great deficiency of Christian bene- volence. There is indeed much instinctive, native bene- volence, and this is not to be despised; but the benevo- lence of Jesus Christ, which consists in a calm purpose to suffer, and, if need be, to die, for our fellow-creatures, the benevolence of Christ on the Cross, which is the true pattern to the Christian, this is little known; and w'hat is the cause ? It is this. AVe see nothing in human beings to entitle them to such sacrifices; w'e do not think them worth suffering for. Why should w'e be martyrs for beings who awaken in us little more of moral interest than the brutes ? I hold that nothing is to make man a true lover of man, but the discovery of something interesting and great in human nature. We must see and feel that a human being is something important, and of immeasurable importance. We must see and feel the broad distance between the spiritual life within us and the vegetable or animal life which acts around us. I cannot love the 8o J/OXaUR DUE TO ALL MEN. flower, however beautiful, with a disinterested affection which will make me sacrifice to it my own prosperity. You will in vain exhort me to attach myself, with my whole strength of affection, to the inferior animals, how- ever useful or attractive ; and why not ? They want the c-apacity of truth, virtue, nnd progress. They want that ])rinciple of duty which alone gives i)ermanence to a being; and accordingly they soon lose their individual nature, and go to mingle with the general mass. A human being deserves a different affection from what we bestow on inferior creatures, for he has a rational and moral nature, by which he is to endure for ever, by which he may achieve an unutterable hajipiness, or sink into an unutterable woe. He is more interesting, through what is in him, than the earth or heavens; and the only way to love him aright is to catch some glimpse of this immortal power within him. Until this is done, all charity is little more than instinct ; we shall embrace the great interests of human nature with coldness. It may be said that Christianity has done much to awaken benevolence, and that it has taught men to call one another brethren. Yes, to call one another so; but has it as yet given the true feeling of brotherhood? W'e undoubtedly feel ourselves to be all of one race, and this is well. We trace ourselves up to one pair, and feel the same blood flowing in our veins. But do we understand our spiritual Brotherhood? Do we feel ourselves to be derived from one Heavenly Parent, in whose image we are all made, and whose perfection we may constantly ai)j)roach ? I )o we feel that there is one divine life in our own and in all souls ? This seems to me the only true bond of man to man. Here is a tie more sacred, more enduring, than all the ties of this earth. Is it felt, and do we in consequence truly honour one another ? Sometimes, indeed, we see men giving sincere, pro- found, and almost unmeasured respect to their fellow- creatures; but to whom ? To great men; to men distin- guished by a broad line from the multitude; to men pre-eminent by genius, force of character, daring effort, high station, brilliant success. To such honour is given; but this is not to “honour all men;” and the homage paid to .such ir> generally unfriendly to that Christian estimate of human beings for which I am now pleading, d'he great are honoured at the expense of their race. 'Phey absorb and concentrate the world’s admiration, and their less gifted fellow-beings are thrown by their bright- ness into a deeper shade, and passed over with a colder contempt. Now, I have no desire to derogate from the honour paid to great men, but I say. Let them not rise by the depression of the multitude. I say, that great men, justly regarded, exalt our estimate of the human race, and bind us to the multitude of men more closely; and when they are not so regarded, when they are con- verted into idols, when they serve to wean our interest from ordinary men, they corriqjt us, they sever the sacred bond of humanity which should attach us to all, and our charaeters become vitiated by our very admiration of greatness. The true view of great men is, that they are only examples and manifestations of our common nature, showing what belongs to all souls, though unfolded as yet only in a few. The light which shines from them is, after all, but a faint revelation of the power which is treasured up in every human being. They are not [irodigies, nor miracles, but natural developments of the human soul. I'hey are indeed as men among children. but the children have a princii)le of growth which leads to manhood. That great men and the multitude of minds are of one family, is ap])arent, I think, in the admiration which the great inspire into the multitude. A sincere, enlightened admiration always springs from something congenial in him who feels it with him who inspires it. He that can understand and delight in greatness was created to partake of it; the germ is in him; and sometimes this admiration, in what we deem inferior minds, discovers a nobler spirit than belongs to the great man who awakens it; for sometimes the great man is so absorbed in his own greatness as to admire no other; and I should not hesitate to say, that a common mind, which is yet capable of a generous admiration, is destined to rise higher than the man of eminent capacities, who can enjoy no i)ower or excellence but his own. ^Vhen I hear of great men, I wish not to separate them from their race, but to blend them with it. I esteem it no small benefit of the philo- soi)hy of mind, that it teaches us that the elements of the greatest thoughts of the man of genius exist in his humbler brethren, and that the faculties which the scientific exert in the profoundest di.scoveries are pre- cisely the same with those which common men emjjloy in the daily labours of life. 'Po show the grounds on which the obligation to honour ‘all men rests, I might take a minute survey of that human nature which is common to all, and set forth its claims to reverence. But, leaving this wide range, 1 observe that there is one ])rinciple of the soul which makes all men essentially equal, which places all on a level as to means of happiness, which may place in the I first rank of human beings those who are the most I depressed in worldly condition, and which therefore gives the most depressed a title to interest and respect. I refer to the Sense of Duty, to the power of discerning and doing right, to the moral and religious |)rincii)le, to the inward monitor which .si)eak.s in the name of Hod, to the capacity of virtue or excellence. This is the great gift of Gotl. AVe can conceive no greater. In seraph and archangel, we can conceive no higher energy than the power of virtue, or the power of forming themselves after the will and moral perfections of (lod. This power breaks down all barriers between the sera])h and the lowest human being; it makes them brethren. Whoever has derived from Hod this perception and capacity of rectitude, has a bond of union with the S[)iritual world, stronger than all the ties of nature. He possesses a principle which, if he is faithful to it, must carry him for- ward for ever, and insures to him the improvement and ha])piness of the highest order of beings. It is this moral power which makes all men essentially equal, which annihilates all the distinctions of this world. 'Phrough this, the ignorant and the poor may become the greatest of the race; for the greatest is he who is most true to the ijrincijjle of duty. It is not improbable that the noblest human beings are to be found in the least favoured conditions of society, among those whose names are never uttered beyond the narrow circle in which they toil and suffer, who have but “two mites ” to give away, who have perhaps not even that, but who “ desire to be fed with the crumbs which fall from the rich man’s table;” for in this class may be found those who have withstood the severest temptation, who have practised the most arduous duties, who have confided in Hod under the heaviest trials, who have been most HONOUR DUE TO ALL MEN. 8i wronged and have forgiven most; and these are the great, the exalted. It matters nothing what the parti- cular duties are to which the individual is called — how minute or obscure in their outward form. (Greatness in (lod’s sight lies, not in the e.xtent of the sphere which is filled, or of the effect which is produced, but altogether in the power of virtue in the soul, in the energy with which God’s will is chosen, with which trial is borne, and goodness loved and pursued. The sense of duty is the greatest gift of God. The Idea of Right is the primary and the highest revelation of God to the human mind, and all outward revelations are founded on and addressed to it. All mysteries of science and theology fade away before the grandeur of the simple perception of duty, which dawns on the mind of the little child, d'hat perception brings him into the moral kingdom of God. That lays on him an everlasting bond. He in whom the conviction of duty is unfolded, becomes subject from that moment to a law which no power in the universe can abrogate. He forms a new and indissoluble connection with God — that of an accountable being. He begins to stand before an inward tribunal, on the decisions of which his whole happiness rests; he hears a voice which, if faithfully followed, will guide him to perfection, and in neglecting which he brings upon himself inevitable misery. We little understand the solemnity of the moral principle in every human mind. We think not how awful are its functions. We forget that it is the germ of immortality. Did we understand it, we should look with a feeling of reverence on every being to whom it is given. Having shown, in the preceding remarks, that there is a foundation in the human soul for the honour enjoined in our text towards all men, I proceed to observe, that, if we look next into Christianity, we shall find this duty enforced by new and still more solemn considerations. This whole religion is a testimony to the worth of man in the sight of God, to the importance of human nature, to the infinite purposes for which we were framed. God is there set forth as sending to the succour of his human family his Beloved Son, the bright image and representa- tive of his own perfections; and sending him, not simply to roll away a burden of pain and punishment (for this, however magnified in systems of theology, is not his highest work), but to create men after that divine image which he himself bears, to purify the soul from every stain, to communicate to it new power over evil, and to open before it Immortality as its aim and destination, — Immortality, by which we are to understand, not merely a perpetual, but an ever-improving and celestial being. Such are the views of Christianity. And these blessings it proffers, not to a few, not to the educated, not to the eminent, but to all human beings, to the poorest, and the most fallen; and we know that, through the power of its promises, it has in not a few instances raised the most fallen to true greatness, and given them, in their present virtue and peace, an earnest of the Heaven which- it unfolds. Such is Christianity. Men, viewed in the light of this religion, are beings cared for by God, to whom He has given his Son, on whom He pours forth his Spirit, and whom He has created for the highest good in the universe, for participation in his own perfections and happiness. My friends, such is Christianity. Our scepticism as to our own nature cannot quench the bright light which that religion sheds on the soul and on the prospects of mankind; and just as far as we receive its truth, we shall honour all men. I know I shall be told that Christianity speaks of man as a sinner, and thus points him out to abhorrence and scorn. I know it speaks of human sin, but it does not speak of this as indissolubly bound up with the .soul, as entering into the essence of human nature, but as a tem- porary stain, which it calls on us to wash away. Its greatest doctrine is, that the most lost are recoverable, that the most fallen may rise, and that there is no height of purity, power, felicity in the universe, to which the guiltiest mind may not, through penitence, attain. Christianity, indeed, gives us a deeper, keener feeling of the guilt of mankind than any other religion. By th.c revelation of perfection in the character of Jesus Christ, it shows us how imperfect even the best men are. But it reveals perfection in Jesus, not for our discouragement, but as our model, reveals it only that we may thirst for and approach it. From Jesus I learn what man is to become, this is, if true to this new light; and true he may be. Christianity, I have said, shows man as a sinner, but I nowhere meet in it those dark views of our race which would make us shrink from it as from a nest of venomous reptiles. According to the courteous style of theology, man has been called half brute and half devil. But this is a perverse and pernicious exaggeration. The brute, as it is called, that is, animal, appetite is indeed strong in human beings; but is there nothing within us but appetite? Is there nothing to war with it? Does this constitute the essence of the soul? Is it not rather an accident, the result of the mind’s union with matter? Is not its spring in the body, and may it not be exjrected to perish with the body? In addition to animal propensities, I see the tendency to criminal excess in all men’s passions. I see not one only, but many Tempters in every human heart. Nor am I insensible to the fearful power of these enemies to our virtue. But is there nothing in man but temptation, but propensity to sin? Are there no counterworking powers? no attractions in virtue? no tendencies to God? no sympathies with sorrow? no reverence for greatness? no moral conflicts? no triumphs of principle? I'his very strength of tempta- tion seems to me to be one of the indications of man’s greatness. It shows a being framed to make progress through difficulty, suffering, and conflict; that is, it shows a being designed for the highest order of virtues; for we all feel by an unerring instinct that virtue is elevated in proportion to the obstacles which it surmounts, to the power with which it is chosen and held fast. I see men placed by their Creator on a field of battle, but com- passed with peril that they may triumph over it; and, though often overborne, still summoned to new efforts, still privileged to approach the Source of all power, and to “seek grace in time of need,” and still addressed in tones of encouragement by a celestial Leader, who has himself fought and conquered, and holds forth to them his own crown of righteousness and victory. From these brief views of human nature and of Chris- tianity, you will see the grounds of the solemn obligation of honouring all men, of attaching infinite importance to human nature, and of respecting it, even in its present infant, feeble, tottering state. This sentiment of honour or respect for human beings strikes me more and more as essential to the Christian character. I conceive that a more thorough understanding and a more faithful culture 82 HONOUR DUE TO ALL MEN. of this would do very much to carry forward the Church and the world. In truth, I attach to this sentiment such importance, that I measure by its progress the progress of society. I judge of public events very much by their bearing on this. I estimate political revolutions chiefly by their tendency to exalt men’s conceptions of their nature, and to inspire them with respect for one another’s claims. The present stupendous movements in Europe naturally suggest, and almost force upon me, this illustra- tion of the importance which I have given to the senti- ment enjoined in our text. Allow me to detain you a few moments on this topic. ^\'hat is it, then, I ask, which makes the present revo- lutionary movement abroad so interesting ? I answer, that 1 see in it the principle of respect for human nature and for the human race developing itself more powerfully, and this to me constitutes its chief interest. I see in it proofs, indications, that the mind is awakening to a con- sciousness of what it is, and of what it is made for. In this movement I see man becoming to himself a higher object. I see him attaining to the conviction of the ecjual and indestructible rights of every human being. I see the dawning of that great principle, that the indi- vidual is not made to be the instrument of others, but to govern himself by an inward law, and to advance towards his proper perfection ; that he belongs to himself, and to God, and to no human superior. 1 know indeed that, in the present state of the world, these conceptions are exceedingly unsettled and obscure ; and, in truth, little effort has hitherto been made to place them in a clear light, and to give them a definite and practical form in men’s minds. The multitude know not with any dis- tinctness what they want. Imagination, unschooled by reason and experience, dazzles them with bright but baseless visions. They are driven onward with a peril- ous \iolence, by a vague consciousness of not having found their element ; by a vague yet noble faith in a higher good than they have attained; by impatience under restraints which they feel to be degrading. In this violence, however, there is nothing strange, nor ought it to discourage us. It is, I believe, universally true that greal principles, in their first development, manifest themselves irregularly. It is so in religion. In history we often see religion, especially after long depression, breaking out in vehemence and enthusiasm, sometimes stirring up bloody conflicts, and through struggles esta- blishing a calmer empire over society. In like manner, political history shows us that men’s consciousness of their rights and essential equality has at first developed itself passionately. Still the consciousness is a noble one, .and the presage of a better social state. Am I asked, what I hope from the present revolu- tionary movements in Europe ? I answer, that I hope a good which includes all others, and which almost hides all others from my view. I hope the subversion of insti- tutions by which the true bond between man and man has been more or less dissolved, by which the will of one or a few has broken down the will, the heart, the con- science of the many; and I hope that, in the place of these, are to grow up institutions which will express, cherish, and spread far and wide a just respect for human nature, which will strengthen in men a consciousness of their powers, duties, and rights, which will train the individual to moral, and religious independence, which will propose as their end the elevation of all orders of the community, and which will give full scope to the best minds in this work of general improvement. I do not say that I expect it to be suddenly realised. The sun, which is to bring on a brighter day, is rising in thick and threatening clouds. Perhaps the minds of men were never more unquiet than at the j)resent moment. Still I do not despair, d’hat a higher order of ideas or principles is beginning to be unfolded ; that a wider philanthropy is beginning to triumph over the distinctions of ranks and nations ; that a new feeling of what is due to the ignorant, poor, and depraved has sprung ujr ; that the right of every human l)eing to such an education as shall call forth his best faculties, and train him more and more to control himself, is recognised as it never was before ; and that Government is more and more regarded as intended irot to elevate the few, but to guard the rights of all ; that these great revolutions in princijjle have commenced and are spreading, who can deny? and to me they are proi)hetic of an improved condition of human nature and human affairs. — Oh, that this meliora- tion might be accomplished without blood ! As a Chri.s- tian, I feel a misgiving, when I rejoice in any good, however great, for which this fearful price has been paid. In truth, a good so won is nece.ssarily imperfect and generally transient, ^\’ar may subvert a despotism, but seldom builds up better institutions. Even when joined, as in our own history, with high j)rinciplcs, it inflames and leaves behind it passions which make liberty a feverish conflict of jealous parties, and which expose a l)eo])le to the tyranny of faction under the forms of freedom. Eew things impair man’s reverence for human nature more than war ; and did I not see other and holier influences than the sword working out the regene- ration of the race, 1 should indeed despair. In this discourse I have spoken of the grounds and importance of that honour or resi)cct which is due from us, and enjoined oir us, towards all human beings. The various forms in which this j)rinciple is to be exercised or manifested, 1 want time to enlarge on. 1 would only say, “Honour all men.” Honour man from the begin- ning to the end of his earthly course. Honour the child. W elcome into being the infant, with a feeling of its mysterious grandeur, with the feeling that an immortal existence has begun, that a spirit has been kindled which is never to be quenched. Honour the child. On this principle all good education rests. Never shall we learn to train up the child till we take it in our arms, as Jesus did, and feel distinctly that “ of such is the kingdom of heaven.” In that short sentence is taught the spirit of the true system of education; and for want of under- standing it, little effectual aid, I fear, is yet given to the heavenly principle in the infant soul. — Again : Honour the poor. This sentiment of respect is essential to improving the connection between the more and less prosperous conditions of society. This alone makes beneficence truly godlike. Without it, almsgiving degrades the receiver. We must learn how slight and shadowy are the distinctions between us and the poor ; and that the last in outward condition may be first in the best attributes of humanity. A fraternal union, founded on this deep conviction, and intended to lift up and strengthen then the exposed and tempted poor, is to do infinitely more for that suffering class than all our artificial associa- tions; and till Christianity shall have breathed into us this spirit of respect for our nature, wherever it is found, we shall do them little good. I conceive that, in the present low .state of Christian virtue, we little apprehend ON THE ELEVATION OF THE LABOURING CLASSES. 83 the power which might be exerted over the fallen and destitute, by a benevolence which should truly, thoroughly recognise in them the image of God. Perhaps none of us have yet heard or can comprehend the tone of voice in which a man, thoroughly impressed with this sentiment, would speak to a fellow-creature. It is a language hardly known on earth; and no eloquence, I believe, has achieved such wonders as it is destined to accomplish. I must stop, though I have but begun the application of the principle which I have urged. I will close as I began, with saying that the great revelation which man now needs is a revelation of man to himself. The faith which is most wanted is a faith in what we and our fellow-beings may become, a faith in the divine germ or principle in every soul. In regard to most of what are called the mysteries of religion, we may innocently be ignorant. But the mystery within ourselves, the mystery of our spiritual, accountable, immortal nature, it behoves us to explore. Happy are they who have begun to pene- trate it, and in whom it has awakened feelings of awe towards themselves, and of deep interest and honour towards their fellow-creatures. ON THE ELEVATION OE THE LABOURING CLASSES. Introductory Remarks. The following Lectures were prepared for two meetings of mechanics, one of them consisting of apprentices, the other of adults. For want of strength they were delivered only to the former, though, in preparing them, I have kept the latter also in view. “ The Mechanic Apprentices’ Library Association,” at whose request the Lectures are published, is an institution of much promise, not only furnishing a considerable means of intellectual improve- ment, but increasing the self-respect and conducing to the moral safety of the members. When I entered on this task, I thought of preparing only one lecture of the usual length. But I soon found that I could not do justice to my views in so narrow a compass. I therefore determined to write at large, and to communicate through the press the results of my labour, if they should be thought worthy of publication. With this purpose, I introduced topics which I did not deliver, and which I thought might be usefully presented to some who might not hear me. I make this statement to prevent the objection, that the Lectures are not, in all things, adapted to those to whom they were delivered. Whilst written chiefly for a class, they were also intended for the community. As the same general subject is discussed in these Lec- tures as in the “ Lecture on Self-Culture,” published last winter, there will, of course, be found in them that coin- cidence of thoughts which always takes place in the writ- ings of a man who has the inculcation of certain great principles much at heart. Still, the point of view, the mode of discussion, and the choice of topics, differ much in the two productions; so that my state of mind would be given very imperfectly were the present Lectures with- held. This is, probably, the last opportunity I shall have for communicating with the labouring classes, through the press. I may, therefore, be allowed to express my earnest wishes for their happiness, and my strong hope that they will justify the confidence of their friends, and will prove by their example the possibility of joining with labour all the improvements w’hich do honour to our nature. — W. E. C. Boston, Feb. iith, 1840. Lecture I. It is with no common pleasure that I take part in the present course of Lectures. Such a course is a sign of the times, and very interesting to all who are interested in the progress of their fellow-creatures. We hear much of the improvements of our age. The wonders achieved by machinery are the common talk of every circle ; but I confess that, to me, this gathering of mechanics’ appren- tices, whose chief bond of union is a library, and who come together weekly to refresh and improve themselves by the best instruction which the state of society places within their reach, is more encouraging than all the miracles of the machinist. In this meeting I see, what I desire most to see, that the mass of the people are beginning to comprehend themselves and their true happiness, that they are catching glimpses of the great work and vocation of human beings, and are rising to their true place in the social state. The present meeting indicates a far more radical, more important change in the world, than the steam-engine, or the navigation of the Atlantic in a fortnight. That members of the labouring class, at the close of a day’s work, should assemble in such a hall as this, to hear lectures on science, history, ethics, and the most stirring topics of the day, from men whose education is thought to fit them for the highest offices, is a proof of a social revolution to which no bounds can be set, and from which too much cannot be hoped. I see in it a repeal of the sentence of degradation pa.ssed by ages on the mass of mankind. I see in it the dawn of a new era, in which it will be understood that the first object of society is to give incitements and means of pro- gress to all its members. I see in it the sign of the approaching triumph of men’s spiritual over their outward and material interests. In the hunger and thirst for knowledge and for refined pleasures which this course of lectures indicates in those who labour, I see that the spirit of man is not always to be weighed down by toils for animal life and by the appetite for animal indulgences. I do attach great importance to this meeting, not for its own sake or its immediate benefits, but as a token and pledge of a new impulse given to society through all its conditions. On this account, I take more pleasure in speaking here than I should feel in being summoned to pronounce a show-oration before all the kings and nobles on earth. In truth, it is time to have done with shows. The age is too stirring, we are pressed on by too solemn interests, to be ju.stified in making speeches for self- display or mere amusement. He who cannot say something in sympathy with, or in aid of, the great movements ot humanity, might as well hold his peace. With these feelings and convictions, I am naturally, «4 ON THE ELEVATION OF almost necessarily, led to address you on a topic which must ensure the attention of such an audience, namely, the Elevation of that portion of the community who subsist by the labour of the hands. This work, I have said, is going on. I may add, that it is advancing nowhere so rapidly as in this city. I do not believe that, on the face of the earth, the spirit of improvement has anywhere seized so strongly on those who live by the sweat of the brow as among ourselves. Here it is nothing rare to meet the union of intellectual culture and self-respect with hard work. Here the prejudice against labour as degrading has very much given way. This, then, is the place where the subject which I have proposed should be discussed. We ought to consider in what the true elevation of the labouring portion consists, how far it is practicable, and how it may be helped onward. The subject, I am aware, is surrounded with much prejudice and error. Great principles need to be brought out, and their application ])lainly stated. There are serious objections to be met, fears to be disarmed, and rash hopes to be crushed. I do not profess to have mastered the topic. But I can claim one merit, that of coming to the discussion with a feeling of its importance, and with a deep interest in the class of people whom it concerns. I trust that this expression of interest will not be set down as mere words, or as meant to answer any selfish purpose. A politician who professes attachment to the people is suspected to love them for their votes. But a man, who neither seeks nor would accept any place within their gift, may hope to be listened to as their friend. As a friend, I would speak plainly. I cannot flatter. I see defects in the labouring classes. I think that, as yet, the greater part of them have made little progress ; that the prejudices and passions, the sensuality and selfishness of multitudes among them, are formidable barriers to improvement ; that multitudes have not waked as yet to a dim conception of the end for which they are to struggle. My hopes do not blind me to what exists ; and with this clear sense of the deficiencies of the multitude of men, I cannot, without guilt, minister to their vanity. Not that they alone are to be charged with deficiencies. Look where we may, we shall discern in all classes ground for condemnation ■, and whoever would do- good, ought to speak the truth of all, only remembering that he is to speak with sympathy, and with a consciousness of his own fallibleness and infirmity. In giving my views of the elevation of the labouring multitude, I wish that it may be understood that 1 shall often speak prospectively, or of changes and improvements which are not to be expected immediately or soon ; and this I say, that I miy not be set down as a dreamer, ex- pecting to regenerate the world in a day. I fear, how- ever, that this explanation will not shield me from this and like reproaches. There are men who, in the face of all history, of the great changes wTought in men’s con- dition, and of the new principles which are now acting on society, maintain that the future is to be a copy of the ]5ast, and probably a faded rather than bright copy. From such I differ, and did I not differ, I w'ould not stand here. Did I expect nothing better from human nature than I see, 1 should have no heart for the present effort, poor as it may be. I see the signs of a better futurity, and especially signs that the large class by whose toil we all live are rising from the dust ; and this faith is my only motive to what I now offer. The elevation of the labouring portion of society : this is our subject. I shall first consider in what this consists. I I shall then consider some objections to its practicable- I ness, and to this point shall devote no small part of the discussion ; and shall close the subject with giving some grounds of my faith and hope in regard to the most numerous class of our bellow-beings. I. What is to be understood by the elevation of the labouring class ? This is our first topic. To prevent ; misapprehension, I will begin with stating what is not meant by it, in what it does not consist. — I say, then, that by the elevation of the labourer, I do not understand that he is to be raised above the need of labour. I do not expect a series of improvements, by which he is to be released from his daily work. Still more, I have no desire to dismiss him from his workshop and farm, to take the spade and axe from his hand, and to make his life a long holiday. I have faith in labour, and I see the goodness of God in placing us in a world where labour alone can keep us alive. 1 would not change, if I could, our sub- jection to physical laws, our exposure to hunger and cold, and the necessity of constant conflicts with the material world. I would not, if I could, so temper the elements, that they should infuse into us only grateful sensations, that they should make vegetation so exuberant as to anticipate every want, and the minerals so ductile as to offer no resistance to our strength and skill. Such a world would make a contemptible race. Man owes his growth, his energy, chiefly to that striving of the will, that conflict with difficulty, which we call Effort. Easy, i)leasant work does not make robust minds, does not give men a con- sciousness of their powers, does not train them to en- durance, to perseverance, to steady force of will, that force without which all other acquisitions avail nothing. Manual labour is a school in which men are placed to get energy of purpose and character — a vastly more important endowment than all the learning of all other schools. 'I'hey are placed, indeed, under hard masters, physical sufferings and wants, the power of fearful elements, and the vicissitudes of all human things ; but these stern teachers do a work which no compassionate, indulgent friend could do for us ; and true wisdom will bless Provi- dence for their sharp ministry. I have great faith in hard work. The material world does much for the mind by its beauty and order ; but it does more for our minds by the pains it inflicts, by its ob.stinate resistance, which nothing but patient toil can overcome ; by its vast forces, which nothing but unremitting skill and effort can turn to our use ; by its perils, which demand continual vigilance ; and by its tendencies to decay. I believe that difficulties are more important to the human mind than what we call assistances. Work we all must, if we mean to bring out and perfect our nature. Even if we do not work with the hands, we must undergo equivalent toil in some other direction. No business or study which does not present obstacles, tasking to the full the intellect and the will, is worthy of a man. In science, he who does not grapple with hard questions, who does not concentrate his whole intellect in vigorous attention, who does not aim to pene- trate what at first repels him, will never attain to mental foi:ce. The uses of toil reach beyond the present world. Thp capacity of steady, earnest labour, is, I apprehend, one of our great preparations for another state of being. When I see the vast amount of toil required of men, I feel that it must have important connections with their \ future existence; and that he who has met this discipline n^anfully, has laid one essential foundation of improve- ment, exertion, and happiness in the world to come. THE LABOURING CLASSES. 8S You will here see that to me labour has great dignity. It is not merely the grand instrument by which the earth is overspread with fruitfulness and beauty, and the ocean subdued, and matter wrought into innumerable forms for comfort and ornament. It has a far higher function, which is to give force to the will, efficiency, courage, the capacity of endurance, and of persevering devotion to far-reaching plans. Alas, for the man who has not learned to work ! He is a poor creature. He does not know himself. He depends on others, with no capacity, of making returns for the support they give ; and let him not fancy that he has a monopoly of enjoyment. Ease, rest, owes its deliciousness to toil ; and no toil is so burdensome as the rest of him who has nothing to task and quicken his powers. I do not, then, desire to release the labourer from toil. This is not the elevation to be sought for him. Manual labour is a great good ; but, in so saying, I must be understood to speak of labour in its just proportions. In excess, it does great harm. It is not a good, when made the sole work of life. It must be joined with higher means of improvement, or it degrades instead of exalting. Man has a various nature, which requires a variety of occupation and discipline for its growth. Study, medi- tation society, and relaxation should be mixed up with his physical toils. He has intellect, heart, imagination, taste, as well as bones and muscles ; and he is grievously wronged when compelled to exclusive drudgery for bodily subsistence. Life should be an alternation of employments, so diversified as to call the whole man into action. Unhappily, our present civilisation is far from realising this idea. It tends to increase the amount of manual toil, at the very time that it renders this toil less favourable to the culture of the mind. The division of labour, which distinguishes civilised from savage life, and to which we owe chiefly the perfection of the arts, tends to dwarf the intellectual powers, by confining the activity of the individual to a narrow range, to a few details, perhaps to the heading of pins, the pointing of nails, or the tying together of broken strings ; so that while the savage has his laculties sharpened by various occupations, and by exposure to various perils, the civilised man treads a monotonous, stupefying round of unthinking toil. This cannot, must not, always be. Variety of action, corre- sponding to the variety of human powers, and fitted to develope all, is the most important element of human civilisation. It should be the aim of philanthropists. In proportion as Christianity shall spread the spirit of brotherhood, there will and must be a more equal distri- bution of toils and means of improvement. That system of labour which saps the health, and shortens life, and famishes intellect, needs, and must receive, great modifi- cation. Still, labour in due proportion is an important part of our present lot. It is the condition of all outw'ard comforts, and improvements, whilst at the same time, it conspires, with higher means and influences, in ministering to the vigour and growth of the soul. Let us not fight against it. We need this admonition, because at the present moment there is a general disposition to shun labour ; and this ought to be regarded as a bad sign of our times. The city is thronged with adventurers from the country, and the liberal professions are overstocked, in the hope of escaping the primeval sentence of living by the sweat of the brow ; and to this crowding of men into trade we owe not only the neglect of agriculture, but what is far worse, the demorali-sation of the community. It generates excessive competition, which of necessity generates fraud. Trade is turned to gambling ; and a spirit of mad speculation exposes public and private interests to a disastrous instability. It is, then, no part of the philanthropy which would elevate the labouring body, to exempt them from manual toil. In truth, a wise philanthropy would, if possible, persuade all men of all conditions to mix up a measure of this toil with their other pursuits. The body as well as the mind needs vigorous exertion, and even the studious would be happier were they trained to labour as well as thought. Let us learn to regard manual toil as the true discipline of a man. Not a few of the wisest, grandest spirits have toiled at the work-bench and the plough. I have said that, by the elevation of the labouring mass, I do. not mean that they are to be released from labour. I add, in the next place, that this elevation is not to be gained by efforts to force themselves into what are called the upper ranks of society. I wish them to rise, but I have no desire to transform them into gentlemen or ladies, according to the common acceptation of these terms. I desire for them not an outward and showy, but an inward and real change ; not to give them new titles and an artificial rank, but substantial improvements and real claims to respect. I have no wish to dress them from a Parisian tailor’s shop, or to teach them manners from a dancing-school. I have no desire to see them, at the end of the day, doff their working dress, that they may play a part in richly attired circles. I have no desire that they should be admitted to luxurious feasts, or should get a taste for gorgeous upholstery. There is nothing cruel in the necessity which sentences the multitude of men to eat, dress and lodge plainly and simply, especially where the sentence is executed so mildly as in this country. In this country, where the demand for labour is seldom interrupted, and the openings for enterprise are numerous beyond precedent, the labouring class, with few exceptions, may well be satisfied with their accommodations. Very many of them need nothing but a higher taste for beauty, order, and neatness, to give an air of refinement and grace as well as comfort to their establishments. In this country, the mass of labourers have their share of outw^ard good. Their food, abundant and healthful, seasoned with the appetite which labour gives, is, on the whole, sweeter as well as healthier than the elaborate luxuries of the pros- perous ; and their sleep is sounder and more refreshing than falls to the lot of the less employed. Were it a possible thing, I should be sorry to see them turned into men and women of fashion. Lashion is a poor vocation. Its creed, that idleness is a privilege, and work a disgrace, is among the deadliest errors. Without depth of thought, or earnestness of feeling, or strength of purpose, living an unreal life, sacrificing substance to show, substituting the factitious for the natural, mistaking a crowd for society, finding its chief pleasure in ridicule, and exhausting its ingenuity in expedients for killing time, fashion is among the last influences under which a human being who respects himself, or who comprehends the great end of life, would desire to be placed. I use strong language, because I would combat the disposition, too common in the labouring mass, to regard what is called the upper class with envy or admiration. This disposition manifests itself among them in various forms. Thus, when one of their number prospers, he is apt to forget his old acquaint- ance, and to work his way, if possible, into a more fashion- 86 OjV the elevation oe able caste. As far, indeed, as he extends his acquaint- ance among the intelligent, refined, generous, and truly honourable, he makes a substantial improvement of his condition ; but if, as is too often the case, he is admitted by way of favour into a circle which has few claims beyond those of greater luxuries and show, and which bestows on him a patronising, condescending notice, in exchange for his old, honourable, influence among his original asso- ciates, he does anything but rise. Such is not the ele- vation I desire for the labourer. I do not desire him to struggle into another rank. Let him not be a servile copyist of other classes, but aim at something higher than has yet been realised in any body of men. Let him not associate the idea of Dignity or Honour with certain modes of living, or certain outward connections. I would have every man stand on his own ground, and take his place among men according to personal endowments and worth, and not according to outward appendages ; and I would have every member of the community furnished with such means of improvement, that, if faithful to himself, he may need no outward appendage to attract the respect of all around him. I have said, that the people are not to be elevated by escaping labour, or by pressing into a different rank. Once more, I do not mean by the elevation of the people, that they should become self-important politicians ; that, as individuals or a class, they should seize on political power ; that by uniting their votes they should triumph over the more prosperous ; or that they should succeed in bending the administration of government to their j)ar- ticular interests. An individual is not elevated by figuring in public affairs, or even by getting into office. He needs previous elevation to save him from disgrace in his public relations. To govern oneself, not others, is true glory, d'o serve through love, not to rule, is Christian greatness. Office is not dignity. The lowest men, because most faithless in principle, most servile to ojnnion, are to be found in office. I am sorry to say it, but the truth should be spoken, that, at the present moment, political action in this country does little to lift up any who are concerned in it. It stands in opposition to a high morality. Politics, indeed, regarded as the study and pursuit of the true, enduring good of a community, as the apiflication of great unchangeable principles to public affairs, is a noble sphere of thought and action ; but politics, in its common sense, or considered as the invention of temporary shifts, as the playing of a subtle game, as the tactics of party for gaining power and the spoils of office, and for elevating one set of men above another, is a paltry and debasing concern. The labouring class are sometimes stimulated to seek power as a class, and this it is thought will raise them. But no class, as such, should bear rule among us. All conditions of society should be represented in the Government, and alike protected by it ; nor can anything be expected but disgrace to the individual and the country, from the success of any class in grasping at a monopoly of political power. I would by no means dis- courage the attention of the people to politics. 'I’hey ought to study in earnest the interests of the country, the principles of our institutions, the tendencies of public measures. But the unhaj)piness is, they do not study, and, until they do, they cannot rise by political action. A great amount of time, which, if well used, would form an enlightened population, is now wasted on newspapers and conversations which inflame the passions, which un- scrupulously distort the truth, which denounce moral independence as treachery to one’s jxarty, which agitate the country for no higher end than a triumph over opponents ; and thus multitudes are degraded into men-worshippers or men-haters, into the dupes of the ambitious, or the slaves of a faction. To rise, the people must substitute reflection for passion. There is no other way. By these remarks I do not mean to charge on the labouring class all the passionateness of the country. All classes partake of the madness, and all are debased by it. The fiery spirits are not confined to one portion of the community. The men whose ravings resound through the hall of Congress, and are then circu- lated through the country as eloquence, are not taken from among those who toil. Party prejudices break out as fiercely on the exchange, and even in the saloon, as in the workshop. The disease has spread everywhere. Yet it does not dishearten me, for I see that it admits of mitigation, if not of cure. I trust that these lectures, and other sources of intellectual enjoyment now opening to the public, will abate the fever of political excitement, by giving better occupation to the mind. Much, too, may be hoped from the growing self-respect of the peoj)le, which will make them shrink indignantly from the disgrace of being used as blinded partisans and unre- flecting tools. Much also is to be hoped from the discovery, which must sooner or later be made, that the importance of Government is enormously overrated, that it does not deserve all this stir, that there are vastly more effectual means of human happiness. Political insti- tutions are to be less and less deified, and to shrink into a narrower space ; and just in proportion as a wiser estimate of Government prevails, the ])resent frenzy of political excitement will be discovered and put to shame. 1 have now said what I do not mean by the elevation of the labouring classes. It is not an outward change of condition. It is not release from labour. It is not struggling for another rank. It is not political power. I understand something deeper. I know but one elevation of a human being, and that is Elevation of Soul. Without this, it matters nothing where a man stands or what he possesses ; and with it, he towers, he is one of God’s nol)ility, no matter what place he holds in the social scale. There is but one elevation for a labourer, and for all other men. 'Phere are not different kinds of dignity for different orders of men, but one and the same to all. The only elevation of a human being consists in the exercise, growth, energy of the higher principles and powers of his soul. A bird may be shot upward to the skies by a foreign force j but it rises, in the true sense of the word, only when it spreads its own wings and soars by its own living power. So a man may be thrust upward into a conspicuous place by outward accidents ; but he rises only in so far as he exerts himself, and expands his best faculties, and ascends by a free effort to a nobler region of thought and action. Such is the elevation I desire for the labourer, and I desire no other. This elevation is indeed to be aided by an improvement of his outward condition, and in turn it greatly improves his outward lot ; and thus connected, outward good is real and great ; but supposing it to exist in separation from inward growth and life, it would be nothing worth, nor would I raise a finger to promote it. I know it will be said, that such elevation as I have spoken of is not and cannot be within the reach of the labouring multitude, and of consequence they ought not THE LABOURING CLASSES. 87 to be tantalised with dreams of its attainment. It will be said, that the principal part of men are plainly designed to work on matter for the acquisition of material and corporeal good, and that, in such, the spirit is of necessity too wedded to matter to rise above it. This objection will be considered by-and-bye ; but I would just observe, in passing, that the objector must have studied very carelessly the material world, if he suppose that it is meant to be the grave of the minds of most of those who occupy it. Matter was made for spirit, body for mind. The mind, the spirit, is the end of this living organisation of flesh and bones, of nerves and muscles ; and the end of this vast system of sea and land, and air and skies. 'I'his unbounded creation of sun, and moon, and stars, and clouds, and seasons, was not ordained merely to feed and clothe the body, but first and supremely to awaken, nourish, and expand the soul, to be the school of the intellect, the nurse of thought and imagination, the field for the active powers, a revelation of the Creator, and a bond of social union. We were placed in the material creation, not to be its slaves, but to master it, and to make it a minister to our highest powers. It is interesting to observe how much the material world does for the mind. Most of the sciences, arts, professions, and occu- pations of life, grow out of our connection with matter. The natural philosopher, the physician, the lawyer, the artist, and the legislator, find the objects or occasions of their researches in matter. The poet borrows his beautiful imagery from matter. The sculptor and painter express their noble conceptions through matter. Material wants rouse the world to activity. The material organs of sense, especially the eye, wake up infinite thoughts in the mind. 'Fo maintain, then, that the mass of men are and must be so immersed in matter, that their souls cannot rise, is to contradict the great end of their connection with matter. I maintain that the philosophy which does not see, in the laws and phenomena of outward nature, the means of awakening Mind, is lamentably short-sighted ; and that a state of society which leaves the mass of men to be crushed and famished in soul by excessive toils on matter, is at war with God’s designs, and turns into means of bondage what was meant to free and expand the soul. Elevation of soul, this is to be desired for the labourer as for every human being ; and what does this mean ? The phrase, I am aware, is vague, and often serves for mere declamation. Let me strive to convey some precise ideas of it ; and in doing this, I can use no language which will save the hearer from the necessity of thought. The subject is a spiritual one. It carries us into the depths of our own nature, and I can say nothing about it worth saying, without tasking your powers of attention, without demanding some mental toil. I know that these lectures are meant for entertainment rather than mental labour ; but as I have told you, I have great faith in labour, and I feel that I cannot be more useful than in exciting the hearer to some vigorous action of mind. Elevation of soul, in what does this consist ? Without aiming at philosophical exactness, I shall convey a suffi- ciently precise idea of it, by saying that it consists, first, in Force of Thought, exerted for the acquisition of Truth; secondly, in Force of Pure and Generous Feeling ; thirdly, in Force of Moral Purpose. Each of these topics needs a lecture for its development. I must confine myself to the first ; from which, however, you may learn in a measure my views of the other two. Before entering on this topic, let me offer one preliminary remark. To every man who would rise in dignity as a man, be he rich or poor, ignorant or instructed, there is one essential condition, one effort, one purpose, without which not a step can be taken. He must resolutely purpose and labour to free himself from whatever he knows to be wrong in his motives and life. He who habitually allows himself in any known crime or wrong-doing, effectually bars his progress towards a higher intellectual and moral life. On this point every man should deal honestly with himself. If he will not listen to his conscience, rebuking him for violations of plain duty, let him not dream of self- elevation. The foundation is wanting. He will build, if at all, in sand. I now proceed to my main subject. I have said that the elevation of a man is to be sought, or rather consists, first, in Force of Thought exerted for the acquisition of truth ; and to this I ask your serious attention. Thought, Thought, is the Fundamental distinction of mind, and the great work of life. All that a man does outwardly, is but the expression and completion of his inward thought. To work effectually, he must think clearly. To act nobly, he must think nobly. Intellectual force is a principal element of the soul’s life, and should be proposed by every man as a principal end of his being. It is common to distinguish between the intellect and the conscience, between the power of thought and virtue, and to say that virtuous action is worth more than strong thinking. But we mutilate our nature by thus drawing lines between actions or energies of the soul, which are intimately, in- dissolubly bound together. The head and the heart are not more vitally connected than thought and virtue. Does not conscience include, as a part of itself, the noblest action of the intellect or reason ? Do we not degrade it by making it a mere feeling? Is it not something more ? Is it not a wise discernment of the right, the holy, the good ? Take away thought from virtue, and what remains worthy of a man ? Is not high virtue more than blind instinct ? Is it not founded on, and does it not include clear, bright perceptions of what is lovely and grand in character and action? Without power of thought, what we call conscientiousness, or a desire to do right, shoots out into illusion, e.xaggeration, pernicious excess. The most cruel deeds on earth have been perpetrated in the name of conscience. Men have hated and murdered one another from a sense of duty. The worst frauds have taken the name of pious. Thought, intelligence, is the dignity of a man, and no man is rising but in proportion as he is learning to think clearly and forcibly, or directing the energy of his mind to the acquisition of truth. Every man, in whatsoever condition, is to be a student. No matter what other vocation he may have, his chief vocation is to Think. I say every man is to be a student, a thinker. This does not mean that he is to shut himself within four walls, and bend body and mind over books. Men thought before books were written, and some of the greate.st thinkers never entered what we call a study. Nature, Scripture, society, and life, present perpetual subjects for thought ; and the man who collects, concentrates, employs his faculties on any of these subjects for the purpose of getting the truth, is so far a student, a thinker, a philosopher, and is rising to the dignity of a man. It is time that we should cease to limit to professed scholars the titles of thinkers, philosophers. Whoever seeks truth with an earnest mind, no matter when or how, belongs to the school of intellectual men. 88 OX THE ELEVATION OF In a loose sense of the word, all men may be said to think ; that is, a succession of ideas, notions, passes through their minds from morning to night ; but in as far as this succession is passive, undirected, or governed only by accident and outward impulse, it has little more claim to dignity than the experience of the brute, who receives, with like passiveness, sensations from abroad through his waking hours. Such thought, if thought it may be called, h rving no aim, is as useless as the vision of an eye which rests on nothing, which Hies without pause over earth and sky, and of consequence receives no distinct image, d'hought, in its true sense, is an energy of intellect. In tl' ought, the mind not only receives impressions or sug- gestions from without or within, but reacts upon them, collects its attention, concentrates its forces upon them, breaks them up and analyses them like a living laboratory, and then combines them anew, traces their connections, and thus impresses itself on all the objects which engage it. The universe in which we live was plainly meant by f'lod to stir up such thought as has now been described. It is full of difficulty and mystery, and can only be ])ene- trated and unravelled by the concentration of the intellect. Every object, even the sim})lest in nature and society, every event of life, is made uj) of various elements subtly bound together; so that, to understand anything, we must reduce it from its complexity to its parts and principles, ^ and examine their relations to one another. Nor is this all. Everything which enters the mind, not only contains a depth of mystery in itself, but is connected by a thou- •sand ties with all other things. The universe is not a disorderly, disconnected heap, but a beautiful whole, stamjied throughout with unity, so as to be an image of the One Infinite Spirit. Nothing stands alone. All tlfings are knit together, each existing for all and all for each. The humblest object has infinite connections, d'he vegetable, which you saw on your table to-day, came to you from the first jdant which Ood made to grow on the earth, and was the product of the rains and sunshine of six thousand years. Such a universe demands thought to be understood; and we are placed in it to think, to put forth the power within, to look beneath the surface of things, to look beyond i)articular facts and events to their causes and effects, to their reasons and ends, their mutual influences, their diversities and resemblance.s, their pro- jjortions and harmonies, and the general laws which bind them together. This is what I mean by thinking; and by such thought the mind rises to a dignity which humbly represents the greatness of the Divine intellect; that is, it rises more and more to consistency of views, to broad general principles, to universal truths, to glimpses of the order and harmony and infinity of the Divine system, and thus to a deep, enlightened veneration of the Infinite Eather. Do not be startled, as if I were holding out an elevation of mind utterly to be despaired of; for all thinking, which aims honestly and earnestly to see things as they are, to see them in their connections, and to bring the loose, conflicting ideas of the mind into consistency and harmony, all such thinking, no matter in what sphere, is an approach to the dignity of which I speak. You are all capable of the thinking which I recommend. You have all practised it in a degree. The child, who casts an inquiring eye on a new toy, and breaks it to pieces that he may discover the mysterious cause of its move- ments, has begun the work of which I speak, has begun to be a philosopher, has begun to penetrate the unknown. to seek consistency and harmony of thought ; and let him go on as he has begun, and make it one great business of life to inquire into the elements, connections, and reasons of whatever he witnesses in his own breast, or in society, or in outward nature, and, be his condition what it may, he will rise by degrees to a freedom and force of thought, to a breadth and unity of views, which will be to him an inward revelation and promise of the intellectual greatness for which he was created. You will observe that, in speaking of force of thought as the elevation of the labourer, and of every human being, I have continually supposed this force to be exerted for the purpose of acquiring 'I'ruth. I beg you never to lose sight of this motive, for it is essential to intellectual dignity. Eorce of thought may be put forth for otlier purposes — to amass wealth for selfish gratification, to give the individual power over others, to blind others, to weave a web of sophistry, to cast a deceitful lustre on vice, to make the worse appear the better cause. 15ut energy of thought, so employed, is suicidal. The intellect, in becoming a [jander to vice, a tool of the jjassion.s, an advocate of lies, becomes not only degraded, but diseased. It loses the capacity of distinguishing truth from falsehood, good from evil, right from wrong ; it becomes as wortli- less as an eye which cannot distinguish between colours or forms. Woe to that mind which wants the love of truth ! Eor want of thi.s, genius has become a scourge to the world, its breath a poisonous exhalation, its brightness a seducer into paths of pestilence and death. 'I'nith is the light of the Infinite mind, and the image of (lod in His creature.s. Nothing endures but truth. 'I'hc dreams, fictions, theories, which men would substitute for it, soon die. Without its guidance effort is vain, and hoi)e base- less. Accordingly the love of truth, a deep thinst for it, a deliberate i)uri)ose to seek it and hold it fast, may be considered as the very foundation of human culture and dignity. Precious as thought is, the love of truth is still more precious; for without it thought— thought wanders and wastes itself, and predifitates men into guilt and misery. There is no greater defect in education and the pulpit, than that they inculcate so little an impartial, earnest, reverential love of truth, a readiness to toil, to live and die for it. Let the labouring man be imbued in a measure with this spirit ; let him learn to regard himself as endowed with the i)ower of thought, for the very end of aetjuiring truth; let him learn to regard truth as more i)rccious than his daily bread ; and the spring of true and perpetual elevation is touched within him. He has begun to be a man ; he becomes one of the elect of his race. Nor do I despair of this elevation of the labourer. Unhajjpily little, almost nothing has been done as yet, to inspire either rich or poor with the love of truth for its own sake, or for the life, and inspiration, and dignity it gives to the soul. The i)rosperous have as little of this principle as the labouring mass. I think, indeed, that the spirit of luxurious, fashionable life, is more hostile to it than the hardships of the poor. Under a wise culture, this principle may be awakened in all classes, and wherever awakened it will form philosophers, successful and noble thinkers. These remarks seem to me particularly important, as showing how intimate a union subsists between the moral and intellectual nature, and how both must work together from the beginning. All human culture rests on a moral foundation, on an impartial, disinterested spirit, on a willingness to make sacrifices to the truth. Without this moral THE LABOURING CLASSES. 89 power, mere force of thought avails nothing towards our elevation. I am aware that I shall be told that the work of thought which I have insisted on is difficult, that to collect and concentrate the mind for the truth is harder than to toil with the hands. Be it so. But are we weak enough to hope to rise without toil ? Does any man, labourer or not, expect to invigorate body or mind without strenuous effort ? Does not the child grow and get strength, by throwing a degree of hardship and vehemence and con- flict into his very sports ? Does not life without difficulty become insipid and joyless? Cannot a strong interest turn difficulty into pleasure ? Let the love of truth, of which I have spoken, be awakened, and obstacles in the way to it will whet, not discourage, the mind, and inspire a new delight into its acquisition. I have hitherto spoken of Force of Thought in general. My views will be given more completely and distinctly, by considering, next, the objects on which this force is to be exerted. I'hese may be reduced to two classes. Matter and Mind ; the physical world which falls under our eyes, and the spiritual world. The working man is particularly called to make matter his study, because his business is to work on it, and he works more wisely, effectually, cheerfully, and honourably, in proportion as he knows what he acts upon, knows the laws and forces of which he avails himself, understands the reason of what he does, and can explain the changes which fall under his eye. Labour becomes a new thing when thought is thrown into it, when the mind keeps pace with the hands. Every farmer should study chemistry, so as to understand the elements or ingredients which enter into soils, vegetation, and manures, and the laws according to which they combine with and are loosened from one another. So, the mechanic should understand the mechanic powers, the laws of motion, and the history and composition of the various substances which he works on. Let me add, that the farmer and the mechanic should cultivate the perception of beauty. With a charm and new value might the farmer add to his grounds and cottage, were he a man of taste ? The product of the mechanic, be it great or small, a house or a shoe, is worth more, sometimes much more, if he can succeed in giving it the grace of proportion. In France, it is not uncommon to teach drawing to mechanics, that they may get a quick eye and a sure hand, and may communicate to their works the attraction of beauty. Every man should aim to impart this perfection to his labours. The more of mind we carry into toil, the better. Without a habit of thought, a man works more like a brute or machine than like a man. With it, his soul is kept alive amidst his toils. He learns to fix an observing eye on the processes of his trade, catches hints which abridge labour, gets glimpses of important discoveries, and is sometimes able to perfect his art. Even now, after all the miracles of invention which honour our age, we little suspect what improvements of machinery are to spring from spreading intelligence and natural science among workmen. But I do not stop here. Nature is to engage our force of thought, not simply for the aid which the knowledge of it gives in working, but for a higher end. Nature should be studied for its own sake, because so wonderful a work of God, because impressed with his perfection, because radiant with beauty, and grandeur, and wisdom, and beneficence. A labourer, like every other man, is to be liberally educated, that is, he is to get knowledge not only for his bodily subsistence, but for the life, and growth, and elevation of his mind. Am I asked, whether I expect the labourer to traverse the whole circle of the physical sciences ? Certainly not ; nor do I expect the merchant, or the lawyer, or preacher, to do it. Nor is this at all necessary to elevation of soul. The truths of physical science, which give greatest dignity to the mind, are those general laws of the creation which it has required ages to unfold, but which an active mind, bent on self-enlargement, may so far study and comprehend, as to interpret the changes of nature perpetually taking place around us, as to see in all the forces of the universe the workings of one Infinite Power, and in all its arrangements the manifestation of one unsearchable wisdom. And this leads me to observe the second great object on which force of thought is to be exerted, and this is Mind, Spirit, comprehending under this word God and all his intelligent offspring. This is the subject of what are called the metaphysical and moral sciences. This is the grand field for thought ; for the outward, material world is the shadow of the spiritual, and made to minister to it. This study is of vast extent. It compre- hends theology, metaphysics, moral philosophy, political science, history, literature. This is a formidable list, and it may seem to include a vast amount of knowledge which is necessarily placed beyond the reach of the labourer. But it is an interesting thought, that the key to these various sciences is given to every human being in his own nature, so that they are peculiarly accessible to him. How is it that I get my ideas of God, of my fellow- creatures, of the deeds, suffering, motives, which make up universal history ? I comprehend all these from the consciousness of what passes in my own soul. The mind within me is a type representative of all others, and there- fore I can understand all. Whence come my conceptions of the intelligence, and justice, and goodness, and power of God? It is because my own spirit contains the germs of these attributes. The ideas of them are first derived from my own nature, and therefore I comprehend them in other beings. Thus the foundation of all the sciences which treat of mind is laid in every man’s breast. The good man is exercising in his business and family faculties and affections which bear a likeness to the attributes ot the Divinity, and to the energies which have made the greatest men illustrious; so that, in studying himself, in learning the highest principles and laws of his own soul, he is in truth studying God, studying all human history, studying the philosophy which has immortalised the sages of ancient and modern times. In every man’s mind and life all other minds and lives are more or less represented and wrapped up. To study other things, I must go into the outward world, and perhaps go far. To study the science of spirit, I must come home and enter my own soul. The profoundest books that have ever been written do nothing more than bring out, place in clear light, what is passing in each of your minds. So near you, so within you, is the grandest truth. I have, indeed, no expectation that the labourer is to understand in detail the various sciences which relate to Mind. Few men in any vocation do so understand them. Nor is it necessary; though, where time can be com- manded, the thorough study of some particular branch, in which the individual has a special interest, will be found of great utility. What is needed to elevate the 90 ON THE ELEVATION OF soul is, not tliat a man should know all that has been thought and written in regard to the spiritual nature, not that a man should become an Encyclopedia, but that the (Ireat Ideas, in which all discoveries terminate, which sum up all sciences, which the philosopher extracts from infinite details, may be comprehended and felt. It is not the quantity, but the quality of knowledge, which deter- mines the mind’s dignity. A man of immense information may, through the want of large and comprehensive ideas, be far inferior in intellect to a labourer, who, with little knowledge, has yet seized on great truths. For example, I do not expect the labourer to study theology in the ancient languages, in the writings of tlie Fathers, in the history of sects, &:c. eople understand that they are as truly poisoned in such dens as by tainted meat and decaying vegetables, would they not ajipoint commis- sioners for houses as truly as commissioners for markets? Ought not the renting of untenantable rooms, and the crowding of such numbers into a single room as must breed disease, and may infect a neighbourhood, be as much forbidden as the imjjortation of a pestilence? 1 have enlarged on this point because I am persuaded that I the morals, manners, decencies, self-respect, and intellec- j tual imi)rovement, ns well as the health and physical j < omforts of a people, depend on no outward circum- stances more than on the quality of the houses in which they live. The remedy of the grievance now stated lies with the people themselves. The labouring people must require that the health of the city shall be a leading object of the municipal administration, and in so doing they will protect at once the body and the mind. I will mention one more cause of the de])ressed con- dition of many labourers, and that is Sloth, “ the sin which doth most easily beset us.” How many are there who, working languidly and reluctantly, bring little to ])ass, spread the work of one hour over many, shrink from difficulties which ought to excite them, keejr them- selves poor, and thus doom their families to ignorance as well as to want ! In these Nremarks I have endeavoured to show that the great obstacles to the improvement of the labouring <'lasses are in themselves, and may therefore be overcome. 'I'hey want nothing but the ^\’ill. Outward difficulty will shrink and vanish before them just as far as they are bent on progress, just as far as the great idea of their own elevation shall take possession of their minds. I know that many will smile at the suggestion, that the labourer may be brought to practise thrift and self-denial, for the jairpose of becoming a nobler being. But such sceptics, liaving never experienced the i)ower of a grand thought or generous ])urpose, are no judges of others. They may be assured, however, that enthusiasm is not wholly a dream, and that it is not wholly unnatural for individuals or bodies to get the idea of something higher and more inspiring than their past attainments. III. Having now treated of the elevation of the labourer, and examined the objections to it, I proceed, in the last place, to consider some of the circumstances of tlie times which encourage hopes of the progress of the mass of the j^eople. My limits oblige me to confine myself to very few. — And, first, it is an encouraging cir- cumstance, that the respect for labour is increasing, or j xather that the old prejudices against manual toil, as | 1 degrading a man or putting him in a lower sphere, are wearing away; and the cause of this change is full of iwomise; for it is to be found in the progress of intelli- gence, Christianity, and freedom, all of which cry aloud against the old barriers created between the different classes, and challenge especial sympathy and regard for those who bear the heaviest burdens, and create most of the comforts of social life. The contempt of labour of which I have spoken is a relic of the old aristocratic jirejudices which formerly j)roscribed trade as unworthy of a gentleman, and must die out with other prejudices- of the same low origin. And the results must be hap])y. It is hard for a class of men to respect themselves who are denied respect by all around them. A vocation looked on as degrading will have a tendency to degrade those who follow it. Away, then, with the idea of something low in manual labour, 'fhcre is something shocking to a religious man in the thought that the employment whir h Cod has ordained for the vast majority of the human race, should be unworthy of any man, even of the highest. If, indeed, there were an employment which could not be dispensed with, and which yet tended to degrade such as might be devoted to it, I should say that it ought to be shared by the whole race, and thus neutralised by extreme division, instead of being laid as the sole vocation on one man or a few. Let no human being be broken in sinrit or trodden underfoot for the outward prosj)erity of the State. So far is manual labour from meriting contempt or slight, that it will probably be found, when united with true means of sj)iritual culture, to foster a sounder judgment, a keener observation, a more creative imagination, and a purer taste, than any other vocation. Man thinks of the few. Cod of the many; and the many will be found at length to have within their reach the most effectual means of progress. Another encouraging circumstance of the times is the creation of a popular literature, which puts within the reach of the labouring class the means of knowledge, in whatever branch they wish to cultivate. Amidst the worthless volumes which are every day sent from the press for mere amusement, there are books of great value in all departments, published for the benefit of the mass of readers. Mines of inestimable truth are thus open to I all who are resolved to think and learn. Literature is now adapting itself to all wants, and I have little doubt that a new form of it will soon appear for the special benefit of the labouring classes. 'I’his will have for its object to show the ])rogress of the various useful arts, and to ])reserve the memory of their founders, and of men who have laid the world under obligation by great inven- tions. Every trade has distinguished names in its history. Some trades can number, among those who have followed them, ])hilosophers, poets, men of true genius. I would suggest to the members of this Association whether a course of lectures, intended to illustrate the history of the more important trades, and of the great blessings they have conferred on society, and of the eminent individuals who have practised them, might not do much to instruct and, at the same time, to elevate them. Such a course would carry them far into the past, would open to them much interesting information, and at the same time intro- duce them to men whom they may well make their models. I would go farther. I should be pleased to see the members of an important trade setting apart an anniversary for the commemoration of those who have shed lustre on it by their virtues, their discoveries, their THE LABOURING CLASSES. 99 genius. It is time that honour should be awarded on higher principles than have governed the judgment of past ages. Surely the inventor of the press, the discoverer of the compass, the men who have applied the power of steam to machinery, have brought the human race more largely into their debt than the bloody race of conquerors, and even than many beneficent princes. Antiquity ex- alted into Divinities the first cultivators of wheat and the useful plants, and the first forgers of metals; and we, in these maturer ages of the world, have still greater names to boast in the records of useful art. Let their memory be preserved to kindle a generous emulation in those who have entered into their labours. Another circumstance, encouraging the hope of progress in the labouring class, is to be found in the juster views they are beginning to adopt in regard to the education of their children. On this foundation, indeed, our hope for all classes must chiefly rest. All are to rise chiefly by the care bestowed on the young. Not that I would say, as is sometimes rashly said, that none but the young can im- prove. I give up no age as desperate. Men who have lived thirty, or fifty years, are not to feel as if the door was shut upon them. Every man who thirsts to become something better has in that desire a pledge that his labour will not be in vain. None are too old to learn. The world, from our first to our last hour, is our school, and the whole of life has but one great purpose— educa- tion. Still, the child, uncorrupted, unhardened, is the most hopeful subject; and vastly more, 1 believe, is here- after to be done for children, than ever before, by the gradual spread of a simple truth, almost too simple, one would think, to need exposition, yet up to this day wilfully neglected, namely, that education is a sham, a cheat, unless carried on by able, accomplished teachers. The dignity of the vocation of a teacher is beginning to be understood, the idea is dawning on us that no office can compare in solemnity and importance with that of training the child ; that skill to form the young to energy, truth, [ and virtue, is worth more than the knowledge of all other [ arts and sciences; and that, of consequence, the encourage- i ment of excellent teachers is the first duty which a com- munity owes to itself. I say, the truth is dawning; and it must make its way. The instruction of the children of all classes, especially of the labouring class, has as yet been too generally committed to unprepared, unskilful hands, and of course the school is in general little more than a name. The whole worth of a school lies in the teacher. You may accumulate the most expensive apparatus for imstruction; but without an intellectual, gifted teacher, it is little better than rubbish; and such a teacher, without apparatus, may effect the ha])piest results. Our university boasts, and with justice, of its library, cabinets, and philo- sophical instruments; but these are lifeless, profitless, except as made effectual by the men who use them. A few eminent men, skilled to understand, reach, and quicken the minds of the pupils, are worth all these helps. And I say this, because it is commonly thought that the children of the labouring class cannot be advanced, in consequence of the inability of parents to furnish a variety of books and other apparatus. But, in education, various books and implements are not the great requisites, but a high order of teachers. In truth, a few books do better than many. 'I'he object of edu- cation is not so much to give a certain amount of know- ledge, as to awaken the faculties and give the pupil the use of his own mind; and one book, taught by a man who knows how to accomplish these ends, is worth more than libraries as usually read. It is not necessary that much should be taught in youth, but that a little should be taught philosophically, profoundly, livingly. For example, it is not necessary that the pupil be carried over the history of the world from the deluge to the present day. Let him be helped to read a single history wisel\', to apply the principles of historical evidence to its state- ments, to trace the causes and effects of events, to pene- trate into the motives of actions, to observe the workings of human nature in what is done and suffered, to judge impartially of action and character, to sympathise with what is noble, to detect the spirit of an age in different forms from our own, to seize the great truths which are wrapped up in details, and to discern a moral Providence, a retribution, amidst all corruptions and changes; let him learn to read a single history thus, and he has learned to read all histories; he is prepared to study, as he may have time in future life, the whole course of human events; he is better educated by this one book than he would be by all the histories in all languages as commonly taught. The education of the labourer’s children need never stop for want of books and apparatus. More of them would do good, but enough may be easily obtained. What we want is, a race of teachers acquainted with the philosophy of the mind, gifted men and women, who shall respect human nature in the child, and strive to touch and gently bring out his best powers and sympathies; and who slvnll devote themselves to this as the great end of life. This good I trust is to come, but it comes slowly, d'he esta- blishment of normal schools shows that the want of it begins to be felt. This good requires that education shall be recognised by the community as its highest interest and duty. It requires that the instructors of youth shall take precedence of the money-getting classes, and that the woman of fashion shall fall behind the female teacher. It requires that parents shall sacrifice show and pleasure to the acquisition of the best possible helps and guides for their children. Not that a great pecuniary compensation is to create good teachers; these must be formed by individual impulse, by a genuine interest in education; but good impulse must be seconded by out- ward circumstances; and the means of education will always bear a proportion to the respect in which the office of teacher is held in the community. Happily, in this country, the true idea of education, of its nature and supreme importance, is silently working and gains ground. Those of us who look back on half a century see a real, great improvement in schools and in the standard of instruction. What should encourage this movement in this country is, that nothing is wanting liere to the intellectual elevation of the labouring class, but that a spring should be given to the child, and that the art of thinking justly and strongly sliould be formed in early life ; for, this preparation being made, the circum- stances of future life will almost of themselves carry on the work of improvement. It is one of the inestimable benefits of free institutions, that they are constant stimu- lants to the intellect; that they furnish, in rapid succession, quickening subjects of thought and discussion. A whole people at the same moment are moved to reflect, reason, judge, and act on matters of deej) and universal concern ; and where the capacity of thought has received wise culture, the intellect, unconsciously, by an almost irresis- tible sympathy, is kejit perpetually alive. 'I'he mind, like the body, depends on the climate it lives in, on the air it M 2 lOO av THE ELEVATION OF breathes; and tlie air of freedom is bracing, exhilarating, expanding, to a degree not dreamed of under a despotism. This stimulus of liberty, however, avails little, except where the mind has learned to think for the actjuisition of truth. 'I'he unthinking and passionate are hurried hy it into ruinous excess. d'he last ground of hope for the elevation of the labourer, and the chief and the most sustaining, is the clearer development of the principles of Christianity. 'I'he future influences of this religion are not to be judged from the past. Up to this time it has been made a political engine, and in other ways perverted. But its true sjririt, tire spirit of brotherhood and freedom, is beginning to be understood, and this will undo the work which opposite principles have been carrying on for ages. Christianity is the only effectual remedy for the fearful evils of modern civilisation — a system which teaches its members to grasp at everj’thing, and to rise above everybody, as the great .aims of life. Of such a civilisation the natural fruits are, contempt of others’ rights, fraud, oppression, a gambling spirit in trade, reckless adventure, and commercial con- vulsions, all tending to impoverish the labourer and to render every condition insecure. Relief is to come, and »an only come, from the new application of Christian principles, of universal justice, and universal love, to social institutions, to commerce, to business, to active life. 'I'liis application has begun, and the labourer, above all men, is to feel its happy and exalting influences. Such are some of the circumstances which insjjire hopes of the elevation of the labouring classes. 'I'o these might be added other strong grounds of encouragement, to be found in the principles of human nature, in the perfections and providence of Cod, and in the iirojihetic intimations of his word. But these I ])ass over, h'rom all I derive strong hopes for the mass of men. I do not, cannot see, why manual toil and self-imiirovement may not go on in friendly union. I do not see why the labourer may not attain to refined habits and manners as truly as other men. 1 do not see why conversation under his humble roof may not be cheered by wit and exalted hy intelligence. I do not see why, amidst his toils, he may not past his eye around on Cod’s glorious creation, and be strengthened and refreshed by the sight. I do not see why the great ideas which exalt humanity — those of the Infinite Father, of Perfection, of our nearness to Cod, and of the purpose of our being, may not grow bright and strong in the labourer’s mind. Society, I trust, is tending towards a condition in which it will look back with astonishment at the present neglect or perversion of human powers. In the development of a more enlarged philanthropy, in the diffusion of the Christian spirit of j)rotherhood, in the recognition of the equal rights of every human being, we have the dawn and promise of a better age, when no man will be deprived of the means of eleva- tion but by his own fault; when the evil doctrine, worthy of the arch-fiend, that social order demands the depres- -lion of the mass of men will be rejected with horror and scorn ; when the great object of the community will be to ac cumulate means and influences for awakening and expanding the best powers of all classes ; when far less will be expended on the body and far more on the mind; when men of uncommon gifts for the instruction of their race will be sent forth to carry light and strength into every sphere of human life ; when spacious libraries, collections of the fine arts, cabinets of natural history, and all the institutions by which the people may be refined and ennobled, will be formed and thrown open to all ; and when the toils of life, by a wise intermixture of these higher influences, will be made the instruments of human elevation. Such are my hopes of the intellectual, moral, religious, social elevation of the. labouring class. I should not, however, be true to myself did I not add that I have fears as well as hopes. 'I'ime is not left me to enlarge on this point, but without a reference to it I should not give you the whole truth. I would not disguise from myself or others the true character of the world we live in. Human imperfection throws an uncertainty over the future. Society, like the natural world, holds in its bosom fearful elements. Who can hope that the storms which have howled over past ages have spent all their force ? It is possible that the labouring cla.s.ses, by their reckless- ness, their passionateness, their jealousies of the more jwosperous, and their subserviency to parties and political leaders, may turn all their bright prospects into darkness, may blight the hopes which philanthropy now cherishes of a happier and holier social state. It is also possible in this mysterious state of things, that evil may come to them from causes which are thought to promise them nothing but good. 'I'he present anxiety and universal desire is to make the country rich, and it is taken for granted that its growing wealth is necessarily to benefit all conditions. But is this consequence sure? May not a country be rich, and yet great numbers of the people be woefully depre.ssed? In England, the richest nation under heaven, how sad, how degraded, the state of the agricultural and manufacturing classes ! It is thought that the in.stitutions of this country give an assurance that growing wealth will here equally benefit and carry forward all portions of the community. 1 hope so ; but I am not sure. At the jiresent time a momentous change is taking place in our condition. 'J'he imjirovement in steam navigation has half annihilated the space between Europe and America, and by the jrrogress of invention the two continents are to be more and more ]flaced side by side. W'e hail this triumph of the arts with exultation. We look forward to the approaching .s])ring, when this metropolis is to be linked with England by a line of steamboats, as a jiroud era in our history. 'I'hat -a great temporary excitement will be given to industry, and that our wealth and numbers will increase, admits no dispute. But this is a small matter. 'I'he great ejuestion is. Will the mass of the people be permanently advanced in the comforts of life, and, still more, in intelligence and character, in the culture of their highest powers and affections ? It is not enough to grow, if our growth is to resemble that of other populous ])laces. Better continue as we are, better even decline, than tread in the steps of any great city, whether of past or present times. I doubt not that, under Hod’s provi- dence, the apjrroximation of Europe and America is ultimately to be a blessing to both ; but without our vigilance, the nearer effects may be more or less disastrous. It cannot be doubted that for a time many among us, especially in the prosperous classes, will be more and more infected from abroad, will sympathise more with the institutions, and catch more the spirit and manners of the Old World. As a people we want moral independence. We bow to “the great” of other countries, and we shall become for a time more and more servile in our imitation. But this, though bad, may not be the worst result. I would ask. What is to be the effect of bringing the labouring classes of Europe twice as n