other, their lines of thinking are exactly struck out, and their prejudices so deeply rooted, that, in the present state of things, it is impossible to approach either side, with the least hope of bringing them to measures that promise a speedy adjustment. And it is a problem with every unprejudiced mind, whether, if Paul and his fellow-laborers, could return to earth again, they would assort with one more than the other, or whether they would justify or condemn one more than another. The controversy has induced habits of feeling, on both and all sides, about equally unfavorable to an adjustment on the plain ground of revealed truth.

Could they be induced to come to a fair examination of recorded christianity, it would probably lead to an ultimate agreement. To this point, therefore, our few remaining remarks will be directed. The least reflection will teach any man, that we have no guide in ascertaining, either the spirit or form of a religious rite, but the express command of Him with whom it originated. Who else was competent to say, what should be the specific use of such a rite, or what, among the numerous actions of which we are capable, should be selected to subserve that use? Neither nature, nor history, only so far as it throws light on the inspired pages, can be relied upon in a matter like this. For it affords no clue at the object to be gained; and certainly it is unable to specify the manner of gaining it. There is nothing in one external action, from which we are able to discover its appropriateness to subserve a religious purpose, more than others. No one, and no class of the actions within the scope of our physical organization, is endued with an inherent sanctity, nor an intrinsic power, either of taking away sin, or of exerting over the soul, a remedial influence. They all stand in these respects on the

same basis.

Moreover, there are a great number of actions,

equally adapted with those in use, for suggesting pious trains of thought, and aiding the memory and imagination in bringing to view any subject, that God might think proper to have represented in an external rite. The fields from which the mind may cull the means of assisting its pious associations, are ample, and supplied with inexhaustable materials. All earth and ocean, the ever varying drapery of the clouds, the flowery lawn, the murmuring brook, the azure canopy of a clear still evening, all have, apart from every factitious aid, a language which the heart alone can understand. But, let the action of viewing any one of them, become, by divine appointment, associated with the objects of faith, so as to bring those objects to our view, and that one will acquire new tones in addressing our feelings. Christ might have identified the prominent events of his earthly history with the constellations of heaven, after the manner of pagan apotheosis, so that the glories of an evening sky, might be, in all ages, the means of spiritual edification and immortal hope to his children. Thus, we might enumerate ten thousand things, which, so far as we can see, might have been consecrated to a religious use, as well as those which He has actually selected.

Does not our reason for preferring one before another, therefore, consist wholly in the preference which Christ has actually given, as it is to be learned from His word? If His word affords no clue at making a selection, we are under no obligation to attempt it, and so, we have a religion without ceremony. But, if it affords such a clue, then, the actions to which it points, are the ones to be preferred, and they are to be preferred solely on the ground of revealed testimony, and no other considerations are of the least value. Hence, we are thrown wholly upon the resources of philology, in settling questions of ceremony.

The questions at issue are these; what events has our Saviour chosen that we should memorialize? and by what external actions, or in what manner, are we to do it? And it would be a singular thing in the history of philology, if we cannot arrive at a tolerable degree of uniformity, in judging of a matter like this. If, in languages whose remains are so copious as those of the original Scriptures, especially of the Greek, which is chiefly to be relied on in deciding these questions, a bodily action is described in terms that do not admit of definiteness, in judging of its form and intention, it is a case that has no parallel in the history of language. Had it been a conception of the mind, or even had it been a fragment of obsolete rites, whose precise nature cannot now be recalled, such as inquiring of the Lord by Urim and Thummim, there might be grounds of uncertainty that we could not surmount.

But when we come to the bodily actions, which are designed to represent and memorialize certain great matters of fact, and described in a language whose remains are greater than those of any other which has ceased to be spoken, it would be singular, if any material differences should spring up. All the differences of judgment which do arise, under such circumstances, should be passed over, just as we omit the fractions in numbers, which are too small to affect the result. They never should be made an occasion for dissensions, especially since we have the case of one, who, without the aid of visible rites, was allowed to join the triumphal procession of the Redeemer, as he passed from the cross to the throne.

12

CHAPTER III.

Departure from the canons of just interpretation.

Of

The moral sense in man, like the eye, requires aids extraneous to itself, to qualify it for performing its of fice. It is adapted to receive, but not to originate the light of religious truth. If thrown upon the resources of our unaided reflection and conscience, our moral being must grope its way in a darkness as profound, as that of our physical, when cut off from the light of this world. Our perceptions of right and wrong, of obligation and duty, are the combined result of the moral faculty which belongs to our own nature, and of the means afforded to assist its operations. course, they will be clear or confused, according to the amount, or the use we make, of the means within our reach. If our means of knowing religious truth are limited, our moral perceptions will be so too; or if they are abundant, and yet our moral faculty is so diseased, as to disqualify us for using them judiciously, the result will be much the same as if the means themselves were limited. Disease of the visual organ, may as effectually doom us to darkness, as the absence of light. How many, with every means of knowing religious truth, live and die in an ignorance of it as profound, as that of those who are the farthest removed from every such advantage. reason is, that their consciences are perverted, or they neglect the light within their reach, or it is conveyed to their optics through the medium of prejudice, bad education, or some other means of tinging the celestial ray with unnatural hues.

The

There are two sources, from which religious and moral truth, is reflected upon the human mind,—nature and supernatural revelation.

By paying due attention to the tendency of different passions, affections and actions, to produce happiness or misery; by carefully observing the moral relations in which we stand, and the obligations they involve; and thus, by honestly using those means of knowing what is truth and duty, which are spread before us in nature, we may advance far in making correct moral distinctions. Of this fact we have abundant evidence, in the distinguished virtues, which have in some cases flourished even on pagan ground. Who can deny to Socrates, to Plato, or to Epaminondas the meed of splendid moral worth? And, though the relics of Grecian and Roman literature teem with deformed, impure, and erroneous images, they abound in maxims of life, which, if practiced, would impress upon character some of its noblest features. These examples illustrate the inspired text, that "these having not the law, are a law unto themselves," and do simply by the aid of nature, better than many under the full light of revelation; and hence, by showing how much better all might do, whether with or without revealed law, they stand as monuments of the divine justice, in placing the whole world under condemnation. Nature itself, if we would listen to its dictates, would correct many of the foibles, which exist in the best state of society.

It does not comport with our design to inquire into all the causes, which preclude from the mind, moral and religious light. They are numerous, and some are our fault, and others our misfortune. Among those which imply no fault on our part, is, what we have already noticed, the imperfection of language. Since language is the vehicle of all that portion of truth, which is conveyed to us by supernatural revelation, whatever serves to render the meaning of