The Methodist Quarterly Review
1855

ART. V-LIBERAL AND EVANGELICAL CHRISTIANITY.
Natural Goodness; or, Honour to whom Honour is due. Suggestions toward an appreciative View of Moral Men, the Philosophy of the Present System of Morality, and the Relation of Natural Virtue to Religion. By the REV. T. F. RANDOLPH MERCEIN, M. A. New York: Canton & Phillips. 1854.

WE give a hearty welcome to this volume. In the way of professional criticism alone, we should find a great deal in it to gratify our sense of intellectual merit. The spirit of secular literature, seeking the aroma of art for the simple sentiment of pleasure, might enjoy the present effort for its manly and graceful characteristics. There are thoughts here that certainly rise above the common region of mind. There are indications of analytic power, of subtle penetration, of far-reaching perception, that deserve the warmest appreciation. But apart from this the work has other recommendations. It addresses a refined, Christian taste, a sound, Christian scholarship, a truthful, Christian sympathy. Throughout the book there is a sensitiveness to the claims of honest thinking-a fraternal kindliness of temper-a genial air, that we admire exceedingly; and, at the same time, it is free from those amiable excesses, which so often make dangerous concessions to the latitudinarianism of the age. There are peculiarities in it that remind us of the clear, keen eye of Fletcher, of the muscular grasp of Chalmers, of the liberal culture of Arnold, of the sturdy strength of Foster. But nevertheless, it is marked by a tone of decided individuality. The independence of the volume is one of its prominent features. it follows its own line of argument as distinctly as a river traces its channel to the sea. It is not difficult to see the effect of contributing influences. Along the map of its course, we can locate mountain-springs and valley-streams, that have swelled its volume of waters, but they are tributaries only; the strong current flows from its own fountain and determines its own progress to the awaiting ocean.

First of all, then, we like "Natural Goodness," because the author has evidently laboured to be a just and a generous thinker. If any man supposes that these attributes of thought can be separated in the higher contemplations of the mind, he has been betrayed into the servitude of a selfish and debasing philosophy; for no one sentiment is a sufficient guide to the intellect. The claims of justice are not to be settled without reference to the cultivated instinct of benevolence, nor is benevolence to assert its authority with an eye blinded to the stern requisitions of justice. Where the mind is most open to the mutual interests of these great principles, acting in full view of their respective demands, and striving to conform to their wise precepts, it is best fitted to discover and enforce truth. The man of narrow views cannot appreciate this acute sensibility to whatever is broad and catholic in literature. And yet it is one of the fundamental conditions of all spiritual power. There is a chivalry in intellect as well as in life; there is a sense of others' rights-a lofty bearing, in which the most genuine humility takes the dignity of moral grandeur'-a grace of manner in the sharpest thought and the boldest utterance that is worthy of cordial praise. Noble feelings always inspire noble sentiments; the imagination transfers the heart into the brain and animates the reason with its borrowed fervour. And: especially is this the case in polemical writing; if the polemic is to be subordinate to the man, if the casuist is to be controlled by the philosopher, if the enthusiast is to be directed and restrained by the Christian, the whole nature of the writer must be brought under the dominion of truth and love in all their multiplied relations. Our author impresses us as a man of this cast. Reverencing the standards we have been taught to venerate, and yielding nothing that might compromise the strict claims of Christian doctrine, he is yet modest, temperate, and charitable in his discussions. Whenever difficulties are apparent, they are frankly acknowledged and calmly considered; objectors are heard with fairness and patience; antagonists are treated courteously; and in no case does the author resort to those low arts which are sometimes honoured with the name of logic. Indeed, his constant aim appears to be to remove the subject out of the domain of scholastic logic, and unfold it on the ground of a simple and sincere Christian philosophy. His method is singularly free from the taint of suspicion. There is no studied effort to depreciate opposing views, or to ridicule hostile arguments. There is none of the strategy of literature in his tactics. The stealthy art, that. kindles the false camp-fire or muffles its footstep in the advance of death on the enemy's line, is righteously disdained.

Tile spirit of the volume has, therefore, reached our heart. It is open, manly, ingenuous: it practises no cunning evasions; seeks no subterfuges; relies on no doubtful dexterity; avails itself of no disguises It must be classed among controversial writings, but it is exempt from those vices which have defaced so large a portion of this' department of religious literature. Men have been slow to learn that malignity can give no real strength to the intellect. If they look 'at the truth in its native excellence, armed with the strength and adorned with 'the beauty of God-mighty, alike in its energy and repose-they are ready to admit, that in itself it is an all-conquering force by the emanations of birth and the glory of its commissioned ministry. But the moment it becomes their instrument, they are too prone to forget that they are God's agents. The warfare is reduced to carnal rules; and, in the heat of conflict; the religion of the understanding is often violated. The evil here is two-fold; not only is there a sacrifice of Christianity on its own altars, but the intellect engaged in the defence of its truths is positively weakened and practically dishonoured. It is a tacit confession both of ignorance and imbecility to use such weapons. Logic and argument cannot dispense with feeling, but they are enfeebled by earthly passions. Selfish prejudices and morbid desires curse the mind whenever they are permitted to affect its operations. The lessons of material nature are never more eloquent than in those silent teachings that point out the firmament high above the world as the throne of light-a serene glory that the turbulent earth cannot interrupt. Nor does our planet bold the ascending clouds firm to its gravitation without an expressive symbol of the tranquil sanctity of that circling sky which dwells apart from the fellowship of things beneath. And yet Christianity is far nobler than these; it is God's image in thought and love-a perpetual witness of his moral majesty. Men must employ it as such, or its vigour and blessedness wither in their hands. If; indeed, the authority of Christianity as a revealed religion were to be set aside, and the intellect were merely to deal with it on the conditions of human art, it would be absolutely necessary to bring to its doctrines and precepts, a gentle, humble, loving temper; for in no other way could it act upon our instincts and quicken our comprehension. Wherever beauty, sentiment, truth in love, and truth in aspiration are to be embraced, the intellect must put off its earthliness, subdue its grosser passions, and rise into a purer atmosphere. it is the law of success in art no less than of obedience in religion; and hence we are sincerely gratified to find this volume conformed to such correct principles of taste as well as Christian virtue. The spirit of which we speak, may not of itself discover and exhibit the wonderful breadth and harmony of the gospel; but nevertheless, it is an invaluable power; for it does so order and arrange the action of the meditative mind, so discipline its faculties, so suggest the paths of heavenward inquiry, as to place it in the best possible position to acquire a sound and substantial and satisfactory knowledge of the wisdom of God. Let it even go beyond the limits of clearly-revealed truth and enter into the mystic realms of devout speculation, and there, amid the dim nebulae of forming worlds, where chaos is repeating its ancient struggles, and light is slowly evolving its drapery of splendour for the adornment of new spheres, it will trace the footsteps of Jehovah by the sure tokens of its own quick instinct.

Another feature of this volume is worthy of notice; it is written from the right point of survey. Believing that the doctrine of depravity, as held by evangelical Christians, is the doctrine of the Bible, and that the facts of experience are in perfect agreement with it, the writer endeavours to show the ground on which they meet and support each other. If one wishes to treat this subject properly, he must take such an attitude, for in no other can he embrace all its connexions. The. statements of the Scriptures are authoritative and final; no appeal can be made from them. But they address our active faculties; they invoke attention, carefulness, and intelligence in our investigations; they put the working mind on its best processes and tax its profoundest skill. Every man is obliged to recognise his senses, experience, and consciousness in the study of the Bible, for these are constituents in his existence, and elements in all his calculations; and every man is equally bound to harmonize the facts of the one with the facts of the other. The relations of truth are parts of the truth itself, and hence the earthly and the divine aspects of Christianity are both to be estimated and felt.

We have, then, two classes of phenomena: side by side they an arranged before us. Revelation and reason-miracles and common facts-naturalism and supernaturalism-God above nature and God in nature-are in strange association. A system is developed, that emerges from mystery and enters on the clear, open field of human cognizance; it introduces itself among the most familiar objects of' daily interest; it meets us in the street, in the marts of business' and pursuits of knowledge, at the fireside, in the sanctuary, in all places and at all times; it never changes its tone, demeanour, symbols; it never abates its claims or compromises its sovereignty; and yet, amid all this freedom of intercourse, intent on ceaseless companionship with mortal men and conversant with their minutest concerns, it maintains its two-fold relation to earth and heaven; it is with God and with man at the same instant, in the same perfection And in consequence of this singular position, our minds are brought into connexion with two worlds. The facts are apparently. But it is just here that the great work of intellect, awakened' and cultivated by Christianity, is found. The discord is to be' healed; the seemingness of contrariety is to be explained; disturbing forces are to be adjusted; and the new machinery, reducing the will of the race-the science of the race-the power of the race-into subjection to the authority of God, is to exhibit its beautiful (FORTH SERIES, VOL. VII.-16) union with the universal system of moral government. It is man's task to ascertain and demonstrate this harmony between Christianity and the facts of his condition. Philosophy has no right to ask Christianity to explain this enigma. There is no reason why Christianity should undertake to do such a work; there is every reason against it. The only thing that it could rationally be expected to prove is its divine origin. If it furnish evidences of its heavenly birth; if it wear the robes and show the stamp of an unearthly royalty; if it speak the language of eternity and command the resources of infinity in authenticating its claims on the reverence, faith, and service of mankind, it has thoroughly exhausted all demands that sober reason can have. No sooner has this been accomplished than it takes its position among the common phenomena of the world, in so far as its connexions are involved, and the offices of intelligent science are then to be exercised in establishing its relations with other known and accepted truths. And precisely such is the method that God has ordained in the history of Christianity. Miracles were wrought to show the presence of omnipotence; to exhibit its alliance with those august and majestic forms of power that everywhere signalize the material universe; to arouse the mind by its sensibility to exceptional instances of wonder and amazement, and to fasten its sublimities deeply in that sense of mystery, of nearness to a surrounding awe, of involuntary sympathy with whatever transcends the limits of human measurement, which is so active a sentiment in our constitution. On this external proof Christianity was founded. Its title to a place in the phenomena of the universe was thus made good; its location was determined; its paternity was put beyond all doubt. If, now, in this primeval period of Christianity, an inquiring intellect should be suddenly thrown on the profound moral sentiments of its creed, how would it act? Suppose that some mighty grief, cleaving its affectionate nature as with a lightning-shaft, should reveal a hitherto undreamed depth of tenderness and love, or any other summons, like a blast from a distant sphere, should intensify its sense of affliction and transform the whole universe into a symbol of woe; it is obvious that its Christian sentiments would receive a terrible shock. And why ? Because its taste, feeling, and hopes, had just before been vivified and elected by the cardinal idea of goodness in the governing authority of the world without any adverse experience to counterbalance the primary emotion. But in a healthy state of the mental faculties, it would soon recover itself, and a counterpoise, springing from the play of interacting elements that did not previously exist, would be established. Such a mind would have the fresh recollection of miracles to restore its equanimity. It would have a great 'fact-one that came to it with more pomp and significance than anything in its earlier history-to lift itself up before its wavering faith and silence its anxious questionings.

But let us imagine a different state of things; let us take the man of our day. There is a distance of nineteen centuries between him and the miracles which were displayed in the East, for the attestation of Christianity; but, nevertheless, they are evidences for him. A wonderful literature, contained in a single book, pregnant with every form of earnest and inspiring life, confirmed by numerous outward incidents, and holding a scarcely disputed mastery over all that is elsewhere magnificent in thought; preserves the testimony of those who were the chosen witnesses of these signal events. And yet assurance is still further strengthened. For the existence of Christianity in a hostile world-a foreign power, creating its own hospitality, and receiving no friendship that it does not originate and keep alive-is the daily repeated miracle of his observation. Now, it must be apparent, that such a man will be exposed to his peculiar temptations, growing out of the circumstances of his position there be any debate in his mind, it will be on the ground of reconciling Christianity with the facts of experience and consciousness. The cause of the struggle may, probably, be explained. The constant tendency of Christian experience is to withdraw its subject from the outward world-to weaken the dominion of the senses-to familiarize him with spiritual conceptions-to secure a firm and cordial sympathy with those objects that derive the grandeur of a transcendent importance and the charm of a most attractive loveliness from the interests of eternity. And by these means, as the processes of inward life are continued, there is, a steady enhancement of consciousness, a vigorous quickening of individual relations to the divine economy. One would not think that this cultivation of consciousness would involve danger. But the deep insight that it gives into the soul; the lofty aspirations it excites; the earnest strivings 'for the perfect mastery of its cherished sentiment that it maintains; the painful contrasts between the purity promised and attained, which are ever recurring in its meditative hours; above all, the frightful enigma of evil, following its progress, challenging its study, baffling its skill, and mocking even revelation itself, press sorely, heavily upon it. Hence, it would seem that the development of consciousness, raising man to a higher sense of his inheritance, renders him more sensitive to the mysterious facts of his existence. A passing breath of wind plays upon his heart-strings, and a portentous meaning comes from the strange music; but if that breath had not proceeded from heaven, what more would it be than the idle zephyr of a Summer eve?

The moral world must consequently be the battle-ground of Christianity. The great chord was struck when Nicodemus asked, "How can these this be?" A thousand times the heart repeats that memorable question-not only about the new birth, but in respect to every wonder with which Christianity makes it acquainted. The real problem of life is the reconciliation of Christianity with the phenomena of the moral world, and Providence devolves this task on us as the surest method to train us to the final comprehension of its purposes. Nowhere are there so many seeming contradictions-such sharply-defined inconsistencies of appearance-such unremitting warfare between light and darkness-such discordant elements-as here; and nowhere are there so many effective instruments to discipline us to the intelligence and virtue of Christian character. And how does Christianity propose to conduct this struggle? It distinctly asserts the incompetency of knowledge to settle the difficulty, and announces the partialness of its revelations as a fixed principle in its administration of human affairs. We " know in part,"-" prophesy in part,"-is its declaration. Where, then, are the compensations? Where are the operative forces, girded for the mighty achievement? "And now abideth faith, hope charity-these three." A divine emphasis is laid on "these three." And because of this law-the law of "these three,"--all the conflict and trial ensue If in the place of faith we had the knowledge of reason-if for hope we had certain possession, and for charity, the higher forms of angelic love, the sources of perplexity and distress would be instantly removed. The nature of these principles evinces the painful strife to which the progressive mind, imbued with the spirit of Christianity, is doomed. Unbelief, despair, malignity-these three-are the mighty ministers of evil. These three are the emissaries of perdition; these three are the oily-tongued sophists and veiled deceivers of iniquity; these three are the shrewd speculators that wander on the shores of dark and stormy oceans, and throw the line into fathomless depths; these three-what allies of the tempter, what ruthless intruders into the sanctuary of sorrow, lighting the dim eye of grief with a wild glare, and adding a keener pang than bereavement to the anguish of a desolated heart! No wonder, therefore, that the moral world gives birth and scope to such a fiery contest; no wonder that unresting feet press its burning sands, and feeble nerves quiver in its terrible whirlwinds. The legions of heaven and hell meet on this field, and that combat which decides the results of the incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and glorification of Jesus Christ, Mediator between God and man, and princely Head of tile universe, is here conducted.

Our remarks on this point have been extended, because we believe that the indications of the age show a strong tendency to transfer the argument of Christianity to this ground. Infidelity can never gain any advantage from physical science: for, just in proportion as scientific truth advances, it is found that the human mind is advancing in the same line of movement with Christianity. The present farms of scepticism are generally marked by the traces of spiritual solicitude, which no art and ingenuity can disguise; and whatever may be the dangerous fascinations lurking in them, no man can mistake those violent revulsions of soul, that never fail to occur whenever the foundations of belief, solace, and strength are overthrown. Infidelity is ordinarily a reaction from the course on which Christianity is proceeding, and hence it is not difficult to read the progress of the one in the historic exhibitions of the other. The angles of the shadow must correspond with the angles of light; and as Christianity enters on any given portion of our diversified nature, it must provoke a counter struggle in the same department of thought and experience. Nor is this awakening of resistant forces limited to infidelity. The latent elements of unbelief, ready at any time and in any way to break forth in the partially sanctified Christian, are easily quickened by those modes of meditative inquiry which a cultivated period encourages. Materialism cannot disturb them. The difficulties of physical science arouse no doubts and fears. A single sublime sentiment, a moment of divine communion, a glimpse of the better glory, lifts them high above these mole-hills: for in such a debate, if debate it can be called, the spirit asserts its superiority to sense, and claims the security of its birthright. But it is otherwise when the soul is arrayed against itself. If instinct rebels against instinct, sentiment against sentiment, there is set up the most painful and perplexing warfare that the human mind can possibly undergo. We witness this spectacle in our day. And the reason is obvious. It is an age of earnest and general culture. It an age of profound spiritual thought and anxious reflection. It is an age in which the reason of piety is more than ever considered, and the heart prefers its claims on the intellect. Signs are abounding it is a transition age, in which devout men are passing religion of education to a religion of conviction-from forms to realities-from outward machinery to inward life; and consequently their faith must be subjected to new tests: for who can ascend the mountain without feeling the chill air and the encompassing cloud? Who expects not, that at intervals he will lose the fair prospect and the ample horizon, as he toils upward to the summit of furthest vision and brightest sunlight?

The specific object of Mr. Mercein's book is to examine "the facts of human life and consciousness," in their relation to the Scripture doctrine of depravity. Taking the moral man, who discharges the duties of ethical propriety with a faithfulness, devotion, and beauty that must be acknowledged, and finding that he cannot enter into the meaning of those strong and vehement declarations of guilt and wickedness which abound in the Bible, he states fairly and fully the circumstances of his position-the difficulties, inseparable from character and condition, under which he labours in accepting the broad and unequivocal statements of inspiration-and the corresponding claim which he has on the intelligent forbearance of Christian sympathy. The first essay, on the "Injustice done to Moral Men," is an admirable presentation of the obstacles which prevent the moralist from appreciating the evil of his situation, and the influence which they ought to exert on our charity. The severe denunciation in which so many writers and pulpits indulge, is justly condemned. The more philosophical and religious mode of treating this subject, as illustrated by Butler, Chalmers, M'Cosh, and others, is mentioned; and the necessity for careful discrimination, directing the shafts of discussion to the right point, is earnestly urged. The bearing of this essay is worthy of being thoroughly weighed: for to our mind it is perfectly clear, that the Church is not sufficiently sensible of the duties which it involves. There is a twofold reason for this appreciation of "moral men." If we ask ourselves the question, "Does Christianity sympathize with them?" there can be but one answer: It does feel for them. It takes account of their virtue, though it is earthly virtue; and while it regards them as sinners by nature and by practice, it nevertheless displays a considerate estimate of their character. Not that Christianity ever confounds this type of worldly excellence with the fruits of genuine religion, or even intimates that it is the vanishing line of a divine portraiture; but it is viewed in its own connexions and recognised on its own grounds. If such men were not the occupants of a redeemed sphere; if no Providence were over them; if the institutions of a refined and graceful civilization were not continually acting on their tastes, sentiments, and habits in a word, if none of the indirect and secondary agencies of Christianity were operating on their minds, they would be utterly powerless on the score of social morality. Can any one suppose that Christianity would discredit any portion of its work? If it has diffused its serene and mighty influence through the economy of Providence, penetrated physical law, affected hereditary dispositions, watched over the infant in its cradle, the youth at his sports, and the man in the commerce of the city, it is surely not the suicidal system that would dishonour its own gifts, and brand contemptuously its own favours. Admit these facts, and both interest and duty are' plain. The more vital and intimate our sympathies are with Christianity, the greater degree of intellectual and spiritual strength will be produced: and especially will our social power be augmented. If we rendered justice to "moral men," it would have a good effect on them, for it would, in most instances, relieve them of an antagonistic attitude; they would cease to defend themselves: and thus freed from the supposed necessity of a constant war of resistance, they would be better prepared for the impressions of the gospel. And certain are we, that if the pulpit were more considerate natural virtue, it would be far more effective in its rebukes of vice. The interests of Christianity are now suffering in the most serious manner, because of the inability of the Church to extend her sway over "moral men;" and we know not how the growing evil is but by the introduction of a wiser philosophy and a truer courtesy in our conduct toward them.

The second essay, on the "Unconsciousness of Deep Guilt," is one of the clearest, strongest essays that we have ever read. Apart from everything' else in this thoughtful and suggestive volume, it has a definiteness, a pungency, a force in its reasoning, that would give Mr. Mercein a high position as a moral writer. There are some golden paragraphs in this portion of the work, to which any one who has read them will be glad to recur in his most receptive moments. The more formal and logical parts of the argument are exceedingly well expressed, while the illustrated branches of it are really glowing with genius. The object of the essay is to show, that the general unconsciousness of deep guilt affords no presumption against the doctrine of utter depravity. Scripture seems to exhaust language in representing the natural condition of man. The boldest statements, the most ample variety of diction, the most scathing rebukes, the aptest figures run through every form that literature can assume. It is expounded in didactic instruction, and conveyed in poetic imagery. Biography, narrative, history, song, prayers, praise, sermons, exhortations, letters, visions, prophecies, are full of this mighty burden of the heart and thought of Scripture. Nor is this all. The external universe is a vast whispering gallery, where voices of wretchedness and woe, breathing forth in silence and solitude their melancholy wail, are evermore repeated; and as the tones return, there springs a deeper sense of the gigantic misery which has everywhere seized 'world as its inheritance. And yet, the unregenerated man does not respond to the divine utterance of his guilt. The severe declarations of Scripture are not attested by ordinary experience. Guilt is treated as a fact, as a prominent fact, as a most affecting fact, in God's world; but men refuse to admit and feel it. Why? The same cause that creates guilt, creates insensibility, and, therefore, according to our present constitution, depravity is as consistent with unconsciousness as innocence itself. The simple fact is, that consciousness in all Christian relations has to be awakened and cultivated by divine grace, and hence it is a fatal folly to trust spontaneous dictates. Like the rest of our nature, it has sunk under the spell of carnal slumber-the sleep of death is there; and only the voice of God can rouse it to life. But Mr. Mercein advances further. The consequences of sin are mercifully hidden from us in this world; remorse is held in abeyance; the flaming eye is veiled, lest the full perception of our transgressions and their demerits should utterly and forever overwhelm us. Probation demands this condition of mind. Mr. Mercein is correct in this view. For moral motives to be motives-such motives as Christianity employs-there must be a careful limitation to the circumstances and organization of man. Such an excess of action on the sensibilities of our nature as any other theory would imply, could only result in the introduction of force into the realm of intellectual and spiritual life. If every act of iniquity were to flame out its frightful features against the calm sky; if; indeed, the countenance were to picture, like the painting of the sunbeam, the moral physiognomy of the soul; if; in a word, men were to be made fully aware of the awaiting punishment-the conditions of appeal, entreaty, volition, would be radically changed. The facts of the gospel might motives," but in no proper sense, for their power would be so intense, so subduing, so irresistible, as to establish the reign of fatalism. Heaven, therefore, follows the law of reserve. It offers sufficient reasons for repentance, faith, and holiness. It makes Christian culture attractive and ennobling. It proclaims the approaching judgment, and points the wicked to their awful destiny. But in all this, the most studied respect for the organic processes of the mind is observed. No courtly ceremonial could be more rigid and exact. Not only is our planetary home insulated from proximity to other orbs, but the message that reaches it from the throne of the Eternal is characterized by a wise deference to the circumstances and provisions of our being.

The next essay proceeds to consider another presumption, which men are disposed to indulge. It is the presumption against the idea of deep guilt, afforded by God's temporal blessings upon natural virtue. Mr. Mercein admits, that the mind intuitively connects holiness and happiness. Nor can this be doubted; for the two are correlatives. The idea of the one is incomplete without the other. But are the temporal rewards of morality the "Inspector's brand, marking its soundness?" They are not; and Mr. Mercein proceeds to show that these consequences do not evince the moral character of the agent. Men practise these different moralities and are rewarded for them, but it is impossible to reduce them to any system. The reason is apparent: no common principle underlies them. A man may be virtuous in one of these relations and vicious in another; thus he may be blest in the former and cursed in the latter. So much obedience-so much recompense-is the decree, daily life executes. It is analogous to physical law. A man may 'obey the law of gravitation, but could he argue from this fact that the lightning would not strike him? Let him guard his stomach from 'intemperance and gluttony; let him attend to its health; and certain good result will follow: but it would be sheer folly to dream that this regimen would prevent the dust from inflaming his eyes, or an undue exposure to cold from irritating his lungs. Mercein has not pressed this argument as far as it would bear, nor is its full force brought out as effectively as it might have been. The moralities of life are matters of temporary relations rather than of permanent principles, and hence they take their place among the 'same arrangements that reward the agriculturist or the mechanic. We work and are supported , we sow the seed and reap the harvest; we act honestly and are trusted; we love and are loved in return; we perform a magnanimous deed and the community honours it. The world is constituted on this plan. Its conservative and socializing agencies are impregnated with this sentiment, and if it were set aside, the whole organization would crumble into nothingness. Viewed in a strictly philosophic light, it' is a mere economic temporality-a regency rather than the higher form of government. If these moralities could be combined into a system, then a common sentiment, a common spirit, would animate them, and, as a necessary result, the development would be uniform, regular, and consistent. A good father would make a good neighbour, a good citizen, a good philanthropist, a good merchant, a good banker, or any other good. And why? Because character would be exercised and matured as character. The springs of inward life would be reached and the fundamental nature would be rectified. But such is not experience and observation. The moral law of Christianity can be summed up in love to God and love to man; love is the synonyme of all the commandments; but the worldly moralities that adorn life are incapable of any such abbreviation so long as they are contemplated as mere moralities. Each one for itself-each one in its own distinctiveness-each one in its own place-must be set down in the formula, and by no possibility can the worth of one be transferred to the account of the other.

The aim of Mr. Mercein is to show just here, that the earthly moralities, whatever may be their utility and beauty in the present arrangements of life, cannot involve tile higher and purer morality of the gospel. Their rewards offer no pledge of its reward. "When these earthly rewards," says he, page 76, "and their virtuous acts and the relationships which ca]led them forth have passed away, the question of eternal morality and eternal rewards will stand, as it does to-day-alone-to be determined by its own evidences." Hence, he comes to the conclusion, that "whatever the temporal blessing and curse which attend human action may indicate, it certainly does not indicate any. such regard for the moralist as shall secure him' from eternal punishment in the future world." And this conclusion is supported by the fact, that God bestows his benediction on actions in this world simply as actions, and without any respect to motives. Imperfect as this scheme of recompense is, it nevertheless serves to express the moral relations of God as the Governor of the world, and to intimate the duties and prospects of mankind.

The progress of the argument through the fourth essay is to examine the presumption against the idea of deep guilt which is afforded by the comparative rectitude of human conduct. The secondary motives to morality, derived from prudential considerations, and their effective action in the existing' economy of nature, are most admirably unfolded. There is in this section of the work not only a great deal of logical power, but an unusual degree of subtle and minute force. Nowhere is the steady hand-the exact eye-of the marksman more distinctly visible. The embroidered veil is lifted from the moral world, and its deceptive anatomy is laid bare. No heart, touched by the plastic finger of Heaven, is here,-no desires, burning for their native sphere,-no aspirations, ascending with humble prayer as the fragrant incense rises with the smoke of the sacrifice. But the reader must not suppose that these inducements, flowing from a wise regard to interest and welfare, are depreciated. Far from it. If a man will not surrender his spirit to the play of the select and sanctified motives of Christianity, he acts well in not abandoning humbler incitements. "If he is not a saint, it is honourable not to be a fool." Now this is certainty the correct view of the case. Men cannot live in society without feeling the pressure of social necessities. A thousand tie. bind them to a thousand objects. The strings of the human heart-what a net-work are they, spreading out and abroad over myriads of things, connexions, purposes, aims, ambitions, and projects, embracing land and sea, island and continent-intertwined with the wealth of the mine and the harvest of the field-and laced around country, neighbourhood, and home! What urgent and pathetic calls to sobriety, honesty, uprightness, in the love 'of the fireside and the responsibilities of wedded life! What sermons for every week-day on the nobleness of work, when nature spreads her sacrament beneath the encircling sky, and pledges her sunshine, rain, and dew to compensate the industry of muscle and nerve! Amid these gorgeous scenes, bearing still the beautiful tracery of a purer age, where the memory of Eden is casketed in gold and jewelry, where wreathes its silver drapery for unseen forms of matchless grace, where the heavens and the earth meet in sweet embrace and repeat as of old the nuptials of their birth; amid these scenes, where God yet walks and gives to our listening ears the echo of his footsteps if not the precious salutations of his voice; amid these scenes, where Christianity eblazons its symbols wide over the firmament and across every teeming landscape,-where the whitening harvests, and the bending lilies, and the soaring birds all recall the image of Christ; amid such scenes, sacred by their memorials, their prophecies, and their joys, how could men live and not be mellowed and moved! Not parsimonious is that hand which has multiplied its benefactions here. Heaven has its selecter and more glorious splendours; earth has its lesser charms. The cursed world is not deprived of all its resources. It is God's "footstool,"-worthy of being so much a portion of his throne. The benefits of intelligence, truth, and love-the institutions of refined civilization-the diffusive mercies of Christianity-are all here in rich pro-fusion. And they must operate through every channel of human existence. Whether recognised or not, they must obey their inherent law and exert a meliorating influence over mankind. Insensibly, silently, calmly, they find their way to hearts that own them not. A reflected light, such as the moon gives from the sun, is distributed from their thoughts, sentiments, affections, and conduct.

It is easy to see, then, that there is a provision for "comparative rectitude" the present economy of nature and providence-a system of life, enterprise, and sensibility, outside of Christianity, in which all prudential motives, all shapes; of personal and relative be intensely active. Such a "rectitude" has a name-a status-a vitality that cannot be disputed or denied. Fear and pride are its most common constituents. It lacks the cardinal and central element of Christianity-love to God and man-and hence, whatever else it may be, it is not religion. However far it may remove a human being from a demon, it does not bring him to the companionship of an angel. "Social instinct" cannot be viewed as a "moral perception," and motives that consult general expediency, and circulate only within the narrow circle of immediate, tangible, remunerative interests, are not such motives as can sustain the spirit in its heavenward flight.

Passing to the succeeding essay, (No. V,) Mr. Mercein elaborates the beauty, gracefulness, and service of the "natural virtues." There is an eloquence here that is both attractive and forcible. Passages there are of gentle picturesqueness-like valley-landscapes set within mountain-enclosures-and passages too of great warmth and throbbing heartiness. A full, cordial, and cheerful acknowledgment of the numerous and gratifying offices of the "natural virtues" is made: the spontaneous and disinterested impulses are duly credited with all their sublime exhibitions, and their presence in benevolent institutions, literature, and other commanding forms, is honourably and gladly appreciated. Aware that these excellences have been made the theme of abuse and reproach, the author seems to be anxious to award them the fullest share of justice; and his tribute, dictated by a truthful and generous heart, is eminently successful. The charge of the distinguished Dr. Channing, that a rigid orthodoxy has often "exaggerated the sins of men, that the need of an infinite atonement may be maintained," is felt, and the author labours to put himself beyond its application. How, then, are these "natural virtues" to be managed-where are they to be located-and what are their final issues? The view presented by the celebrated Dr. Chalmers, in which the claims of God are brought before "the complacent moralist," and he is made to realize his spiritual bankruptcy, no matter how well he has discharged his duty to man, is introduced and examined. A brief extract from Dr. Dewey, with a sensible criticism, is given. "The very nature of true excellence," says Dr. 'Dewey, "in one form is a pledge for its existence in every other form." Mr. Mercein turns the principle back upon the doctor with decided skill. The very nature of true excellence in one form being a pledge for its existence in every other form, then, of course, "its absence, unregretted, unresisted in any form, argues its absence in every other form, whatever there may be of its semblance." The point is well stated. Standing then on this ground, without a direct appeal to a consciousness of neglect or enmity toward God, Mr. Mercein finds that the "natural virtues" are deficient in a central principle, and hence are wanting in the "symmetry, regularity, and uniformity" which attend a true love of rectitude.

The field seems now to b. cleared. The sixth essay comes to the "Relation of Morality to Religion." It is the most masterly section of the volume. For clear, compressed, consecutive thought-for arguments that move and march in lustre-for breadth and compass of outline-for apt, striking, felicitous illustrations-and above all, for concentration on the single point in contemplation, we shall our warm admiration for this brilliant and profound essay. It indicates a thinker of extraordinary acuteness of abstract and generalizing power, who is capable of ascending above the mediocre levels of religious meditation, and taking large and original 'views of his theme. The idea which Mr. Mercein elaborates, is, that "some preliminary steps are requisite" before any practical offer of salvation can be presented. To a certain extent, the sensibilities of the mind must be restrained; the idea of sin must be toned down to the degree demanded by the tranquil working of thought and emotion; the "violence, the sweep, the frenzy of passion" must be checked; in brief, a repressive force is to be exerted on passion equally with the sense of guilt, shame, and danger. The mind is thus put in a probationary position. But what then? The soul is destitute of pure affections; how is it to be trained to appreciate excellence? How are ideas to be communicated, emotions excited, aspirations enkindled? If the soul cannot, says Mr. M., "have virtuous affections, it must be impressed with parallel instincts." The conclusion is therefore reached, that "a fair platform for further operations may be obtained by these three measures: a deadened consciousness of guilt, repressed passion, and the affectional instincts. These instincts, supported by the systems of rewards and punishments administered in this life, would preserve a true probationary condition."

Had we space, it would afford us pleasure to extend our examination of this theory of the "relation of morality to religion." We must content ourselves with a few general observations.

First, then, it may be remarked, that the view advocated by Mr. Mercein, locates morality in the natural world. Its virtues are regarded as a sort of outfit for the duties of earthly life, in the immediate sphere of its appetites, tastes, desires, actions. It is the archetype-the original pattern-on which the present fallen social state is organized. It is the idea out of which friendship, home, philanthropy has grown. It is the moral capital of business, industry, enterprise. Taken in this connexion, it is a part of the vast system of Divine Providence for the government of the human race, varied from its other forms so as to suit the wants of a rational being, and direct his agency toward the attainment of the benignant ends of Infinite Wisdom. Secondly. Morality points to a higher economy Operating through the intellect, it suggests purer thoughts than it can realize; through the will, a need of strength and purpose it cannot attain; through the affectional instincts, a fuller experience of beauty, trust, and joy, than its own objects can supply. Its tendency, if not interrupted, would be to educate man to look for some-thing beyond itself, and by means of the influence exerted on it, to stimulate him to seek it. In brief, it is a practical institute of types and adumbrations, foreshadowing every moment, and in all its manifestations, the divine remedy for its own weaknesses and guilt. Thirdly. Christianity avails itself of this providential instrumentality to effect its own specific work. It adopts its sentiments and Offices as illustrations of its plan and regimen. Words that primarily belong to its relations are adopted into its vocabulary, and feelings that interchange between man and his fellow are purified and transferred to new claimants. The direct purposes which morality subserves are temporary and mundane; but it has a further and a nobler capability. When its immediate ends are reached, these ends may become means to a still ulterior purpose.

It strikes us that there is a great deal of discrimination and force in Mr. Mercein's views. One of the difficult points in theology is to define the exact position of the "natural virtues." A stern and severe orthodoxy frequently hands them over, in a mass, to Satan, and treats them as nothing more than his splendid disguises. They are supposed to be worse than valueless in the sight of God. Positive counterfeits of the true currency, they only suffice to purchase damnation by a most costly investment, giving scorpions for eggs, stones for bread, in this world, and terminating in the worst of bankruptcy in a future state. One extreme provokes another. Disgusted with this roll of infamy, in which the "natural virtues" are registered, a latitudinarian theology, claiming to be liberal by special distinction, seizes the tablets of heaven, and records these "virtues" in bewitching loveliness on their spotless marble. According to its theory, human nature is not essentially and radically depraved. It labours under an oppressive weakness; but the principle of moral health, perpetuated from our original creation and designed to be a constitutional element of the immortal mind, has been preserved. The aid of divine grace is not rejected. Watchfulness and prayer; self-denial and self-sacrifice, are held to be necessary. But, nevertheless religion is a mere outgrowth from a native germ; all that Christianity does is to create a genial climate, to give the brightest sunshine and the most fertilizing dews for the stimulation of its fibres and juices. If, now, a cultivated Christian mind, divesting itself of all partisanship, contemplate these two systems in the ordinary forms, which they present it cannot be insensible to the fact that they both appeal to certain sentiments in its nature. Orthodoxy may be rigid; it may sometimes extend to harshness; but there is a power its doctrines, a pungency in its appeals, a pointedness in its dealings that must be acknowledged. Sin and guilt, driven from paradise, and doomed to the trials of toil and the tears of tribulation; shrieking in the fast-ascending waters of the deluge, and shivering before the terrors of Sinai; enacting their tragedies of' woe in every age, and fraternizing with hell and ruin; erecting splendid temples to Satan, defying God, crucifying Christ; such sin and guilt stand out before its eye. It feels the awful moral of the scene. Not with words of courteous compromise, nor with parlouretiquette, it deal with the gigantic evil. Men are perishing. The heart of Christ was pierced for them-shall they pierce themselves through with sorrows that eternity cannot assuage? The Mood of the Lamb of God-the only Lamb in the fold of the universe-was shed for them; and shall they float away from the cross on a deluge of their own blood and plunge into perdition? No wonder, then, that it is so earnest, so emphatic, so intensely excited in muscle, nerve, heart, and brain! The danger warrants it-the danger inspires it; and whatever may be thought of its occasional violations of good taste, its fiery zeal, its persistent purpose, its unyielding exactions, one thing is certain, and that is, it grapples mightily with the profoundest sympathies and strongest sentiments of our nature, and comes home, with terrible vehemence, to whatever in us takes hold on the impressive realities of eternity.

But turn to another picture. "Liberal Christianity," as its friends term it, adopts another style of argument and appeal. It speaks to man the child of misfortune. The accidents of education and have misled him. A wanderer from the right way, a voluntary exile from goodness and love, he is cast abroad among temptations often subjugate his native independence. It is a dark 'World, a sinning world: but does not our planet belong to the same system as the SUN? Moral agency exists under disadvantages, and Christianity has been sent to strengthen and expand it. The element of competency is in us, but it requires a favourable combination of means and circumstances for its development. Christianity mainly supplies the want. It is the divine helper-the gracious sympathizer-the heavenly benefactor. Regeneration, in the sense of a new creation, is not taught. It has faith; but it is Simple confidence in the paternal goodness of God. It has repentance; but not such grief for sin, not such scalding tears as come from the vivid apprehension of a sacrificial death for redemption from the bondage of iniquity. It binds man to a strict accountability, and demands of him a beautiful, thorough, earnest "self-culture" that shall make him worthy of his sovereignty over this lower world vindicate his title to the "image of God." Such is our imperfect outline of "liberal Christianity." If it has any errors, we hope to be forgiven. Just thinking is the crown of intellectual excellence, and on no account would we invade its claims.

That "liberal Christianity" addresses a certain order of sentiments within us cannot be doubted. If any refined and generous can calmly study the religious system of William Ellery Channing and Orville Dewey without feeling that it touches several sides of his nature, we envy neither his piety nor his wisdom. "Liberal Christianity" has made a truthful, eloquent, indignant protest against various forms of popular ignorance and religious passion. It has offered a vigorous resistance to Calvinism on the score of moral philosophy. It has defended the freedom of man. The social relations of Jesus Christ as a perfect man; the great duty of cherishing his serene spirit and imitating his illustrious example; the claims of humanity and philanthropy as religious considerations; the obligations of "self-culture;" the minor morals of Christianity, which are so often disregarded; the spiritual connexions of literature, science, and art, it has stated, amplified, illustrated, and enforced with remarkable clearness, beauty, and force. For this work it deserves our gratitude. Any man of thoughtful habits must see that these departments of religious intellect these far-spreading fields of scholarship, taste, and elegance-have been shame-fully neglected by orthodoxy. The mind of the Church has been engaged in unfolding Christianity as a transaction between God and man, and, particularly for the last century, the greater part of pulpit talent and lay ability has been occupied with this aspect of the system. But who can doubt that, meanwhile, Christianity, as a social law and a social life, has been strangely thrown into the background? moon turns but one side of her orb to the earth; but is that the symbol of Christ's religion? The sense of ideality is a true element of the intellect. Not in vain have the fair and graceful forms of the material universe been created; not in vain have the stars kindled a festal splendour, and the landscape been robed in a beautiful livery. All these things are far deeper than eye and ear. Poetry cannot satisfy the claims of this universe for expression. There are sights it cannot see, sounds it cannot hear. It cannot put a soul into the vast mysteries rising, swelling, darkening, all around us. Never! Creation-its magnificence, glory, terror-are closed to every creature. Its profoundest meanings are sure to escape us. Its most godlike emblems are the first to elude our search. But the universe exists for Christ. It was made for him as well as by him; and Christianity is his sole representative to interpret the wonders crowding the heavens and the earth. It only can use them so as to insure Christian instruction and pleasure, and render them an illuminated commentary on tile page of Holy Scripture. The same remark applies to all the relations of Christianity to the affections of' daily life. Here are these select ministers of earth's hallowed courts, anointed for pleasant and useful service, waiting the call of any token, glad to anticipate a wish or to suppress a half-uttered sigh; but Christianity has too often been suffered to withhold its influence and refuse its benediction. Men have not been taught, as they should have been, what a wealth of beauty and joy lay around them. Imagination has not been invited to the feast of munificence which the divine hand has spread on its royal boards, and sensibility left to seek its bliss where best it could find sympathy and cheer. And yet more. The law of labour, the toils of business, the enterprises of commerce have mot been appreciated as means of moral and Christian education; nor, indeed, has the machinery of society been made to revolve with those "wheels within wheels" which sweep before us in the visions of prophecy. Orthodox Christianity has limited its field too much, and hence a speciality has been provoked into existence.

Let us not be misunderstood. We prefer no charges against orthodox Christianity on the score of earnest sincerity, sound doctrine, pure morals. It has witnessed a good confession. It has translated the ritual of heaven into the language of childhood, youth, and age. It has taught jurisprudence its wisdom, and government its creed. It has proclaimed the cross far and wide as the only hope, the sufficient hope, of the world. A ministration of power and purity, a co-worker with the Holy Ghost, it has borne a saving testimony to the majestic truths that are embodied in the New Testament. The precise point is this, viz.: The individual relations of Christianity to the higher forms of earthly sentiment and personal culture-its authority in literature, art, business, and intercourse-its bearings on the great out-door realities of practical existence-have been too much omitted; and in this way another system has been developed into life and activity. "Liberal Christianity" has (FOURTH SERIES, VOL. VII.-17) undertaken to supply this felt deficiency. It has summoned men to consider the authority of reason; emphasized the strength, loveliness, and honour of sensibility; elevated the affections of home, kindred, and race; dwelt on the capacities of mind, and carried agency through all the wide circuit of endeavour, struggle, suffering, and heroism. Had we to contemplate it in these aspects alone, it would win our warmest admiration and call forth our most cordial greeting. But the religious idea of the system-its provisions for a fallen, ruined, guilty race-will press themselves on our attention. Here, we feel its utter feebleness. Here, its pretensions stagger confidence in its most amiable moods. Here, we are unable to resist the oppressive thought, that it has forsaken the central seat of Zion and occupied a remote hill-top on the outskirts of the world's province. Here, in a word, our consciousness assures us, that it does not represent Christ where Christ most truly and fully revealed himself-in the garden of Gethsemane, on the cross of Calvary, on the mount of heavenly intercession.

The history of "liberal Christianity" throws light on these suggestions. We speak particularly of its history in New-England. Commencing as a reaction against the Puritan theology, resisting its supposed exclusiveness, harshness, and bigotry, and demanding a freer atmosphere, a broader horizon, and a more genial companionship, it went forth mildly but boldly into the realm of intellectual and speculative inquiry; it accepted the Bible as God's book, and its interpretation of Christianity as God's religion. Believing in the necessity of a divine manifestation, it received Christ as the great teacher and inspired example to the human race. It did not let aside the supernatural element in Christianity, but acknowledged the miracles wrought in attestation of its claims, and preached the operation of a heavenly influence to assist the struggles of our frail nature. The sanctity of private reason and the injunctions of Catholic charity, were brought out in special prominence. It was the champion of free-will, free-thought, free-utterance-the firm opponent of creeds and dogmas; it was jealous of associations and combinations, lest they should fetter the individual, and monopolize the influences of the age; no stranger to the woes of humanity, it cherished a tender sympathy with human sorrow, and offered its balm to bleeding hearts; the degradations the race awakened its philanthropy, and stirred its deepest sensibilities. Poverty and nakedness, ignorance and crime, misfortune calamity, were more than spectral shapes moving in wild dismay and savage fury before it. Dread realities were they on which the sunshine of God lay pale and lustreless. And then, beside these, but in a lower wretchedness, the spiritual nature, so forgetful of its princely birth, so unfaithful to all its better instincts, so heedless of the myriad voices calling it to high communion, so sunk in oft-occurring bestiality, moved its emotions to interceding prayer and eager effort. It chose its modes and means of action'. Endowed with intellect not surpassed; enriched with learning, scholarship, and literary arts; alive with Anglo-Saxon blood, and proud Of Anglo-Saxon traditions, it entered the pulpit, employed the press, discoursed at the fireside, and brought all other honourable instrumentalities into its service. No experiment was ever tried under more propitious circumstances. Its dissent shut it out from no offices of place and power. It was under no state ban. The field was wide open; it could have the whole sweep Of the horizon and multiply converts in any direction. If, now; any system, rejecting the divinity of Jesus Christ, the doctrine a vicarious sacrifice, and the work of the Holy Ghost in renewing our fallen and helpless nature, could reach the heart and reform the world, it was New-England Unitarianism, for it was Unitarianism in its most attractive and effective form. The repulsive features of English and Continental Unitarianism were softened down to the utmost extent of which the distinctive tenets were capable, and apart from that, a class of persons became its adherents and disciplines in our country, whose tastes, habits, and circumstances would correct, as far as practicable, the excesses of the system. And what have been the results? A few of its advocates have reached the border-land of infidelity. Numbers have welcomed Transcendentalism and its egregious follies; idealism, speculation, and extravagance have misled others. But, confining our view to those who still represent original Unitarianism, what tidings do they offer of its strength, progress, prospects? A careful study of its movements and effects cannot fail to demonstrate that it is a feeble religious creed. It has no centrality-no staminal trunk, out of which the Various branches can grow; it has no ground of Christian sympathy. Brotherhood is one of its favourite sentiments; but this is such a general principle. diffused over so large a surface, and supported by such inadequate motives, as to be a practical nullity. Cordial Christian union-fraternal feeling, as begotten by a common interest in Jesus Christ, and the constant habit of dwelling on the same object and with the same associations-is unknown to it. In aggressiveness it is equally lacking. To push its way among the haunts of men, to storm the battlements of hoary corruption, to gain trophies from the very vicinage of hell are, apparently, beyond its scope. It has laid a decided stress on insight, and yet, strange to tell, no literature is so deficient in penetrating the soul, tracing its dark labyrinths, exposing its endless mazes, and forcing its darling delusions out into the glare of the sunshine. Insight What is there in all the compass of its rich and diversified literature to compare with the microscopic eye of John Bunyan; the deep, silent, earnest search Philip Doddridge; the philosophic penetrativeness of Jonathan Edwards? If these are facts, then, what is the lesson of "liberal Christianity?" It seems to us that it proves the absolute impossibility of reducing Christianity to the conditions of art. It furnishes the most convincing evidence that "Christ crucified" is by the laws of philosophy, by the instincts of the soul, as well as by the provisions of the gospel, the only doctrine that can humble human pride, teach human reason, rouse conscience, change the heart, and regenerate society. But is this all? No; it teaches another lesson: it delivers a message to orthodox Christianity; it instructs us that the beautiful, the tender, the truthful, the noble in our nature are not to be neglected or despised.

No middle ground is wanted; the foundations of Christianity cannot be changed. "Christ crucified" must be preached; without it there is no hope, no pardon, no peace. The view of "natural virtues," presented by "liberal Christianity," cannot be incorporated into Christianity as we hold it, for that view entitles them to the rank of dormant religious germs, awaiting the process of mere development and superseding the necessity of a regenerating work of grace. But, nevertheless, a great advance in the conceptions of evangelical persons, and especially in the temper of their 'minds on this subject, would be effected, if the hand of the Divine Husband-man were traced 'in the growth and cultivation of these "virtues." Justice to these "virtues" does not require them to be recognised as the incipient principles of vital religion, nor, on the other hand, does it bind us to treat them as the offspring of Satan. The essential elements of heaven and hell do not' appear in those sensibilities out of which the beautiful forms of social humanity spring. First of all, therefore, the distinction is to be broadly laid down between the social nature and the moral nature of man, in regard to the law of responsibility, and the awards of the final judgment. If that is clearly apprehended, the next point is to consider the "natural virtues" in their relation to the plan of redemption. Are they connected with the mediatorial economy? The fact seems to be indisputable. They exist in the human heart because Jesus Christ died; they are a portion of the benefits of his assumption of our guilt are under the care of Heaven, for purposes ulterior to themselves. The whole system of earthly providence is founded on them, and by means of their operations conscience is awakened to see the need of a divine guidance, infirmity is taught to seek the aid of Christ, self-righteousness is convicted of folly and guilt, and salvation by faith in the atonement is revealed to the heart. Such views practically tend to enhance the power of Christianity in our hands. The strength of rebuke-that mighty agent in the minister of the sanctuary-is left untouched, and its loyalty to the commission from above is maintained in undiminished vigour. Sympathy is likewise encouraged. A gentle, tender, affectionate spirit, finding so much amid the ruins of human nature to gladden its eye and cheer its hopes, deepens the fervours of entreaty and inspires the eloquence that beseeches men to be reconciled to God.

On the one side, decision is guarded from the extreme of dogmatism and malignity; on the other, charity is preserved from laxity and weakness. In brief, it impresses us that the line of thought adopted and enforced by Mr. Mercein is admirably fitted to define the boundaries of morality and religion-to relieve these subjects of much of their perplexity, and make them more tangible to certain orders of thinkers. No greater service can now be rendered to truth than to give distinctness and boldness to its features-to present its substance in a sharp and angular manner-to limit it with exact justice to its own ground by preventing its encroachment on foreign soil. Whoever brings out obscure ideas into full relief; and teaches us the precise bearings of their foundations and forms, confers a great benefit on the highest interests of science. It is not the most showy and splendid sort of originality; so, at least, the world thinks; but, in our estimation, men of this class, searching among the approved verities of familiar meditations, clearing away their false incidents, and unfolding the entire complement of their relations, are worthy of the lofty praise of intellectual benefactors.

The remaining essays in the volume are devoted to the consideration of the religious principle in man, the process of conviction, repentance, faith, and kindred topics. All of them present the strong characteristics of an earnest, logical, forcible mind.

The observations on self-culture, in connexion with religious experience, are exceedingly sensible; but we wish that they had been extended. We have long been satisfied that there is a serious defect in our preaching and literature on this subject. The time has come for Methodism to pay more attention to its duties and means; it has given special significance to the supernatural element in Christianity, and urged with uncommon ability the cardinal doctrine of the Holy Ghost's influence. Not the slightest abatement of this supreme truth do we wish to see; but rather, as time advances, and the Church expands her field, let it be exhibited with increasing zeal. The genuine idea of self-culture accompanies this divine agency. Religion, as a constant education, as ministered to by all the offices of daily life, as the universal absorbent that is to draw upon everything with which we come in contact,-religion every moment everywhere, in every connexion, is the urgent want of the times. Few there are who continually feel that the charms of the home, the pleasures of friendship, the grace of intercourse, the meetings on the street, the commerce of business, the thousand objects acting on us, are the materials of Christian spirituality. Who think of the lessons of Heaven written all over this wide-spread world? Who realize that the beauty of childhood, the endearments of filial love, the oneness of marriage, the greetings of the market-place, the honours of confidence, and the other experiences of earthly history are instruments to promote our growth and strength? The whole system of creation and providence ought to be classed under "means of grace." And the reason is obvious: personal Christianity has its earthly side as well as its heavenly side; prayer and praise, sanctuary service and sacraments, Scripture and meditation,-these are inseparably identified with all the emotions of the heart in their worship of the Invisible, in their homage to Christ, in their preparation for heaven. But where are the thoughts, born in these serene and sacred hours, to find their companionship? Where are these seeds to vegetate and bloom? The relations of social existence have a vast work to perform within us. Business, relaxation, - literature, art; whatever addresses reason, taste, affection; whatever disciplines the sense to skill-the heart to virtue-the conduct to energy, patience, fortitude, belongs to God. They have been ordained for our improvement, and never can we enter into the full meaning of Christianity until we learn to make everything contribute to our moral and spiritual progress. Is it a fictitious fear or a profound reality, that the transition from an experimental Christianity to a sentimental and mystical Christianity is an easy process? The heart cannot be too frequently and pungently appealed to; but may not the appeal be too exclusive? If this is the fact, where but in the provisions of self-culture, as derived from the regimen of common life and the open universe, are we to seek the safe corrective, the sure and unfailing balance to emotional and reflective piety? Is it all a fable that Antaeu must fall back upon the earth to recruit his strength?

There is one other remark that may be worthy of notice. The habit of inward effort to enlarge the scope of reflection, to strengthen conviction, to penetrate deeply into the reasons of things, to purify feelings, to expand the intellect by large thoughts and the heart by generous sympathies; and above all, the constant exercise of our active faculties, whether of perception, will, or sensibility, in finding the auxiliaries of religious nurture in every phase of human life., are peculiarly demanded by the fact, that in this age of popular interests and general movements, we are peculiarly liable to what may be called the formative power of religious machinery. Surrounded by 'a vast "apparatus" of spiritual energy, our creed faithfully and fully expounded on each returning Sabbath, our praise embodied in printed hymns, our prayers led by others, our social meetings adapted to a regular order; in brief, a continued succession of precisely the same forms and a ceaseless direction of the mind in the same channels, we are strikingly exposed. to the operation of those circumstances which tend to diminish freshness of impressions, force of personal effort, independence of individual aims, and sturdy robustness of sentiment. Such dangers must remain. The best , earthly economy is inseparable from them. But a safeguard has been furnished in the agency of self-culture. By its instrumentality the associations of the multitude furnish materials for solitary study, the fellowship of the sanctuary heightens the charm of self-communion, the familiar routine perfects our individual freedom, and we attain the stature of men in Christ Jesus.

The religion of the New Testament is now thoroughly vocalized. It is sting in choirs. It is melodized in concerts. The swell of the organ floats the sound of 'human voices on its aerial waves and shakes the sanctuary with its triumphant exultations. Christianity is articulated in every variety of tone and modulation; whispered, shouted, thundered; "from lively to severe," if not "from grave to gay," it runs through all 'the gamut of utterance and holds the ear in firm captivity. Here is the logical voice, cold, dry and hard-here is the metaphysical voice, dull and dreamy-here is the philosophical voice, contented, calm, complacent-here is the didactic voice, firm and fearless-here is the descriptive voice, following the quick glances the organ of sight, and beating time to the palpitations of the eyelids-here is the voice of denunciation, storming the citadel of sin here is the 'voice of pathos, tenderness, expostulation, and love-all fulfilling their province with wondrous variety, skill, and success. It is certainly the speaking age of the Church. And we rejoice in it. But can we disguise the painful truth, that thousands depend on vocal instruction with too much satisfaction, and rest in it as a sort of intellectual finality? Faith comes hearing. So urges the apostle, and so believe all Christians. But how does it stay? In what way is it to be matured and perfected? The act of preaching mind on hearing mind is absolutely essential; but it has its fixed limits. No amount, no excellence of oral instruction can fully develop character. Its use is to inform, to quicken, to transmute itself into recipient natures; and whenever that is done, the individual man must convert its influence into the means of personal power and progress. After all, it is a mere tributary to self-culture. Its specific design is to put the sympathetic spirit in the best possible position to exert its own faculties and build itself up in the knowledge and service of Christ.

Alluding to the charge against the Church of a want of interest in the philanthropic schemes of the day, Mr. Mercein proceeds, after repelling the false accusation, to make some remarks on the general subject. "Perhaps the irreligious philanthropists may see more clearly the outward and material machinery to be used in regenerating society, because their attention is not distracted to the want of that spiritual life in the world's heart, without which it can-not receive and perpetuate the new forms which it is proposed to give it. Earnest and enthusiastic spirits, men of noble energy and daring, need a field of exercise and display. A secular philanthropy is the chivalry of the nineteenth century." (P.270). We wish that this view had been extended. If secular philanthropy had been satisfied to present its merits as philanthropy, if it had prudently and wisely confined itself within its own precincts, there might have been an occasion for honest differences of opinion; but there would have been none for differences of feeling. So far from adopting such a course, it has too often taken special pleasure in choosing an antagonistic attitude in respect to the Church. It has taunted, mocked, insulted ministers and members. It has even proclaimed its narrow, local, fugitive creed, with "pictures to match," as a substitute for Christianity. Don Quixote showed a glimmering of in selecting a windmill for attack, but they dash against the battlements of Zion. It is shocking to any moral sensibility to contemplate the vindictive malignity, the furious fanaticism, the wanton sacrifice of the finer, nobler traits of our nature in this fierce assault on the evils of society. A philanthropy of this sort profanes its own name. It can never do God's work. Whatever schemes of usefulness may be devised and executed, the first consideration is the effect on their own immediate adherents. They are viewed as exponents-as witnesses; and hence, if they are transformed into bigots and zealots, nothing can save their cause from odium and disgrace. There is a generous martyrdom that we all admire; but the martyrdom of courtesy, refinement, truth, and virtue, for the sake of consummating a benevolent enterprise, excites our commiseration, if not contempt. The influence of these movements on the Church has been, in some instances, exceedingly disastrous. Good men have conceded too much to them. The attention of tile Church has been frequently diverted to their measures, and its patronage, tacit or active, has been extended to them. Have we to learn at this late day where our strength lies? If our guns have been mounted for ages, have we now to dismount them for the purpose of proving their metal? No moral in Church history is plainer and fuller, than that the power of Christianity is in its concentration, in its asserted and vindicated supremacy, in its complete and perfect adaptation to the regeneration of the world. The simple reason why Christianity is comparatively inert and feeble in our hands, is because we fail to trust it. Our unbelief multiplies false auxiliaries, and in turn they educate our scepticism still further. Even where the institutions are not obnoxious to serious charges, is it not to be apprehended that we are distributing our capital into more forms of business than we can manage effectively? If the Mississippi were drained of its waters as the Church is drained of her intellectual and moral resources, it would need a number of Ohios and Missouris to pour a strong, full, broad current into its tropical gulf.

Had the plan of the work permitted, Mr. Mercein would, doubtless, have been gratified to exhibit the doctrine of the atonement in its relations to the scheme of redemption. The great truth a vicarious offering, a sacrificial death for us, runs through the work both by necessary implication and formal statement; but, nevertheless, it is not developed as fully as we could have desired. The philosophy of the atonement may embarrass minds that accept it as divine fact. Coleridge was an instance of this perplexity; and yet we think that the habit of dwelling on it as an expression of governmental principle is highly beneficial. Apart from this, it is so intimately connected with the condition and circumstances of our fallen, ruined, condemned nature in its moral suggestions, its spiritual significance, its prodigious weight upon the conscience and sensibilities, that we like to see it brought out in marked prominence when-ever depravity, restoration, and eternal life are under review. We beg not to be understood as finding fault. It simply occurs to us, that the "natural virtues" have a terrible account to render with this event, even on the ground which they propose to occupy. Any theory of goodness, claiming the name and sanctions of religion, must insulate the death of Jesus Christ from all ordinary phenomena. The wickedness of the Jews is not sufficient to account for it. Alone must it stand among all the tragedies of earthly history. If it were a mere seal of martyrdom, it does not confer a particle of strength or interest on the truths which the inspired teacher taught, nor does it set off with any more distinctness and adaptability the actions he performed as our example. These rest on totally different grounds. Confronting that amazing spectacle, the "natural virtue" must feel, in moments of subdued thoughtfulness, that there is something found here, differing in kind, in purport, in significance, from all else in the universe; nor can we conceive how it is possible for noble and generous instinct, for manly sentiment, for responsive sensibility to suppress the rising suggestion, there is a divine meaning here which penetrates the profoundest depths of our spiritual being.

The patient reader, who has accompanied us through this article, needs not to be assured that the subject of human depravity, actual, total depravity, has a peculiar interest for our thoughts. Were it a mere earthly thing, it would press itself on our consideration; it would be a mystery, calling in no uncertain or feeble tone for prompt and satisfactory solution. Never could we look into the eye of childhood, never watch the deepening shadows on the hearthstone of home, never tread a silent churchyard, never commune with midnight stars, never scan the many-coloured panorama of life, without feeling that evil demanded explanation. But when we take it in all the dread relations of immortal existence, shaping those huge images that rise up from the rolling surge of eternity, and as silently sink back into its recovering waves, there is a terrible fascination in its influence that cannot be resisted. No sooner had man been expelled from Eden than this torturing idea began to agitate his soul. It expounded the curse. Fiercer than the fiery sword guarding the gates of Paradise it gleamed before him wherever necessity and sorrow bent his footsteps. The oldest annals, the remotest traditions, the earliest usages, present it to our contemplations. The records of patriarchal' and Jewish life are full of its facts. The ancient books of the Brahmins, the speculations of Eastern Pantheism, the mythology of Lesser Asia, the symbolic parable of Prometheus, the fable of Cupid and Psyche, all assert its preponderance in the minds of men. Heathens have given it their most anxious thoughts; deists have struggled with it as a mighty nightmare. Not peculiar to Christianity, it is yet essential to its scheme of redeeming grace; and hence it is unfolded in the New Testament with a frequency, a force, an exhaustive fulness proportioned to its commanding importance. In every age it has been the foremost theme; in all philosophy it has been the returning enigma; in all culture it has proved itself to be the most profound science. Poetry has struck every string in its harp to its melancholy wail. One generation bequeaths it to another, and the sorrow rolls on in an unabated tide. What a literature it has written! See Sir Thomas Browne musing over it in his Urn-Burial, Blair in his Grave, Hervery in his Meditations among the Tombs, Foster in his mournful questionings, Pascal in his devout contemplations! See Goethe and Byron throwing the quick, sharp glances of their bold imaginations into its massive gloom!-see philosophers like Coleridge, orators like Robert Hall, thinkers like Chalmers, divines like Wesley and Fletcher, yielding to it their most earnest studies, and breathing over it their most believing prayers!-see patient watchers at the hidden gates of heaven-watchers like Cowper-waiting for the awful mystery to depart!

It is not pain, it is not suffering that thus torments the mind. No; it is SIN, it is guilt that oppresses our anxious hearts.

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