principles they were wrought to confirm. Being all performed expressly in the name of Jesus who was crucified, and who escaped from his sepulchre in opposition to the force, and eluding the vigilance of the Roman soldiers; they were so many proofs that his removal and disappearance were the result of a divine interposition, and that his whole person was translated to an invisible state, in which he was invested with all that authority which was ascribed to him. They were not only suited to prove a divine interposition in his favour, but that particular kind of interposition by which he had uudergone this glorious transformation of every power, both corporeal and mental. And, together with it, they are particularly adapted to establish the general position, of a similar event to be extended to all his followers, and ultimately to the whole human race.

It is manifest that the profession to perform miracles so palpable to the senses, and which must have furnished such abundant opportunities for examination, had it not been founded in reality, would in all probability have effected the speedy overthrow of his pretensions. Had the illiterate Galileans professed to declare fluently in languages which they had never learned, a doctrine so odious and incredible to all parties to whom it was addressed, as that of the elevation to invisible and supreme authority, of the man, in whose crucifixion there had been so general a concurrence, how ineffectual must have been the attempt― how certainly must it have drawn upon them the ridicule and contempt it would in that case have deserved! The same remark equally applies to the case of the man well known in Jerusalem to have been lame from his birth;* and in general to all those miracles, by the reality of which alone these plain men were enabled to maintain their stand against the power, the malice, and acuteness of their enemies. Alike impossible must it have been for the Apostle Paul-whose epistles sufficiently evince that he determined to adhere strictly to the doctrine of the crucified Jesus, as the anointed of God, having been raised from death and elevated to celestial authority to have gained credence to it among Gentiles, had the numerous miraculous powers, to which he appeals,† as existing in the societies

* Acts iii. 2.

+ See particularly 1 Cor. xii. 4-11; and 28, 29. Gal. iii. 5. And Eph. iv. 11, 12.

and persons to whom he wrote, had no foundation but in imagination or pretence. Nothing but the reality of powers of healing-powers of speaking in unknown tongues, and of explaining ancient prophecies applicable to the Messiah and the progress of his doctrine, can account for the admission of these facts by the numerous bodies of Gentiles to whom his epistles are addressed, and in attestation of a doctrine which by their prejudices and interests they were so strongly inclined to disbelieve and oppose.

That the Christian religion did originate from Jesus who was crucified, and after making considerable progress among the Jews, and from the spot in which he suffered an ignominous death by the public authorities; and that it soon afterwards made great progress at Rome, and in many cities and districts of the Roman empire, is evinced by the concurring testimony of both its friends and its enemies;* who also concur in testifying that its adherents were exposed to severe punishments by the ruling authorities; the Jews, as a nation, maintaining their enmity against it, and the Roman powers endeavouring to crush it by a series of cruel persecutions; notwithstanding which, it continued to spread without any other means than the power of its evidences and the influence of its spirit, till in the third century from its introduction, it was embraced by the Roman Emperor, probably from mingled motives of conviction and of policy, and thus, in the language of an adversary, "the banners of the cross were erected on the ruins of the capitol." A doctrine which enjoins, on the authority of a crucified "Jewish peasant," that its votaries should "not resist evil, but overcome evil with good;" by their persisting to act on this principle, in the assured expectation, that, like their master, they should as the

* Tacitus Ann. Lib. xv. chap. 24, attests the spread of Christianity to Rome, shortly after the execution of Christ by Pilate, as a criminal; and the cruel persecution of Christians by Nero. Juvenal, in his 4th Sat. describes their sufferings in corresponding terms. Suetonius expressly mentions the same event, which happened about A. D. 64. Pliny, in his letter to Trajan, A.D. 107, testifies its spread, not in "cities only, but in the lesser towns and the open country;" that "the temples were almost forsaken," although he had succeeded, by the terrors of death, in causing them to be somewhat "more frequented." subsequent progress of this religion, the persecutions of Domitian, Decius, and Dioclesian, and the success of Constantine in maintaining his authority unopposed by any heathen competitor, after the last most cruel attempt to extirpate, Christianity, are facts of notoriety.

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reward of their obedience, undergo a transformation from death to life and immortality, at length prevailed against the most violent and determined opposition, that was perhaps ever aimed at a body of men and the religion they had embraced. Could a doctrine so opposed to the principles, prejudices, and worldly interests of all parties at the period of its introduction, have made such progress by appeals to proofs of the most palpable description, and by the spirit of meekness in opposition to the most determined, powerful, and cruel hostility, by any other means but the reality of the principles and facts on which it was established? Could a system which obtained an influence at once so powerful and so salutary on the minds of its votaries, transforming them from "men of violence to quite another nature," be any other than divine? Had their discerning enemies been able to detect a fraud or a fallacy in their statements, by the exhibition of evidence or the force of reasoning, would they have grown so furious, and have opposed appeals to facts by torture and destruction, thus marshalling their powers against the unresisting? At length, finding attacks unsuccessful, would they have come over to their "standard," and when grown too powerful for their opposition, have affected to take them under their protection? This protection, indeed, has involved Christianity in the longest and most difficult struggles which it hath had to encounter; but the pure gold is gradually purifying itself from the alloy, and at length it will emerge from the embraces even of this insidious enemy. HOMO.

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The Character and Writings of Fenelon.

(Concluded from page 399.)

WE have finished our remarks on the first element of perfection, according to Fenelon, self-crucifixion. We proceed to the second, love to God. On this topic we intended to enlarge, but have left ourselves little room. We are happy to say, that we have less to object to Fenelon's expositions under this head, than under the former. Of the grandeur and the happiness of this principle, he speaks truly, worthily, in the penetrating language of calm and deep conviction. In one particular, we think him defective. He has not stated, and, in truth, very few do state with sufficient strength and precision, the moral foundation and the moral nature of religion. He has not taught with sufficient clearness, the great truth, that love to God is, from beginning to end, the love of virtue.

He did not sufficiently feel, that religion is the expansion and most perfect form of the moral faculty of man. He sometimes teaches, that, to do God's will, we must renounce ourselves and silence reason; as if the divine will were not in accordance with our faculties; as if it were something dark and mysterious; as if to follow it, we must quench the light of our own minds. Now, the truth is, that the divine will is in harmony with our nature. It is God's approbation and injunction of that moral rectitude, of which the great lines are written on the human soul, and to which reason and conscience, even when they fail to secure obedience, do yet secretly, and in no small degree respond. The human mind and the divine law are not distinct and disconnected things. If man were not a law to himself, he could not receive the revelation of a law from Heaven. Were not the principle of duty an essential part of his mind, he could be bound to no obedience. Religion has its foundation in our moral nature, and is indeed its most enlarged and glorious form, and we lament that this great truth does not shine more brightly in the pages of Fenelon. We intended to give to it a particular discussion; but as we cannot do it justice in the present article, we prefer to dismiss it, and to offer a few miscellaneous remarks on that sentiment of love towards God, on which our author so perpetually insists.

We are aware, that to some men Fenelon may seem an enthusiast. Some may doubt or deny the possibility of that strong, deep, supreme affection towards the Supreme Being, with which Fenelon's book overflows. We wonder at this scepticism. We know no property of human nature more undoubted than its capacity and fulness of affection. We see its love overflowing in its domestic connexions, in friendships, and especially in its interest in being separated by oceans and the lapse of ages. Let it not be said, that the affections to which we here refer, have fellow beings for their objects, and do not therefore prove our capacity of religious attachment. The truth is, that one spirit runs through all our affections, as far as they are pure; and love to mankind directed aright, is the germ and element of love to the Divinity. Whatever is excellent and venerable in human beings, is of God, and in attaching ourselves to it we are preparing our hearts for its author. Whoever sees and recognises the moral dignity of impartial justice and disinterested goodness in his fellow creatures, has begun to pay homage to the attributes of God. The first emotion awakened in the soul, we mean filial attachment, is the dawning of love to our Father in Heaven, Our deep interest in the history of good and great men, our veneration towards enlightened legislators, our sympathy with philanthropists, our delight in mighty efforts of intellect consecrated to a good cause, all these sentiments prove our capacity of an affectionate reverence to God; for he is at once the inspirer and the model of this intellectual and moral grandeur in his creatures. We even think, that our love of nature has an affinity with the love of God, and was meant as a preparation for it; for the harmonies of nature are only his wisdom made visible; the heavens, so sublime, are a revelation of his immensity; and the beauty of creation images to us his overflowing

love and blessedness. To us, hardly any thing seems plainer, than that the soul was made for God. Not only its human affections guide it to him; not only its deep wants, its dangers, and helplessness, guide it to him; there are still higher indications of the end for which it was made. It has a capacity of more than human love, a principle or power of adoration, which cannot bound itself to finite natures, which carries up the thoughts above the visible universe, and which, in approaching God, rises into a solemn transport, a mingled awe and joy, prophetic of a higher life: and a brighter signature of our end and happiness cannot be conceived.

We are aware, that it may be objected, that many and great obstructions to a supreme love of God, belong to our very constitution and condition, and that these go far to disprove the doctrine of our being framed for religion as our chief good. But this argument does not move us. We learn from every survey of man's nature and history, that he is ordained to approach the end of his creation through many and great obstructions; that effort is the immutable law of his being; that a good, in proportion to its grandeur, is encompassed with hardship. The obstructions to religion are not greater than those to knowledge; and, accordingly, history gives as dark views of human ignorance as of human guilt. Yet who, on this ground, denies that man was formed for knowledge, that progress in truth is the path of nature, and that he has impulses which are to carry forward his intellectual powers without end? It is God's pleasure, in his provisions for the mind, as well as for the body, to give us in a rude state the materials of good, and to leave us to frame from them, amidst such conflict, a character of moral and religious excellence; and in this ordination we see his wise benevolence; for by this we may rise to the unutterable happiness of a free and moral union with our Creator. We ought to add, that the obstructions to the love of God, do not lie wholly in ourselves. Perhaps the greatest is a false theology. This interposes thick clouds between the soul and its Maker. It darkens and dishonours God and his works, and leaves nothing to sustain our trust and love.

The motives which are most commonly urged for cherishing supreme affection towards God, are drawn from our frailty and weakness, and from our need of more than human succour in the trials of life and in the pains of death. But religion has a still higher claim. It answers to the deepest want of human nature. We refer to the want of some being or beings, to whom we may give our hearts, whom we may love more than ourselves, for whom we may live and be ready to die, and whose character responds to that idea of perfection, which, however dim and undefined, is an essential element of every human soul. We cannot be happy beyond our love. At the same time, love may prove our chief woe, if bestowed unwisely, disproportionately, and on unworthy objects; if confined to beings of imperfect virtue, with whose feelings we cannot always innocently sympathize, whose interests we cannot always righteously promote, who narrow us to themselves instead of breathing universal charity, who are frail,

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