all points exemplary; if we resolve never to read a work of instruction because the author had faults, lord Bacon's inexhaustible mine of intellectual wealth might have still lain unexplored. Luther, the man to whom the Protestant world owes more than to any other uninspired being, might remain unread, because he is said to have wanted the meekness of Melancthon. Even the divine instructions conveyed in the book of Ecclesiastes would have been written in vain.

It is not necessary that the writer under consideration should, like the sacred penmen, criminate himself. Their ingenuous self-abasement added weight to the truth of their general testimony, and was doubtless directed by the Holy Spirit, as well for this purpose, as for the humiliation of the offending historian. But above all it is calculated to show that the renovation of hearts so imperfect was the work of the spirit of God.

Though the pious writer in these days is not called upon to exercise this self-disparaging egotism, yet let not his silence on this head be attributed to a desire that he may be thought a better man than Moses, who heroically perpetuated the memory of that offence which was an inhibition to his entering the land of promise, nor than David, the recorder of his own sins, the enormity of which could only be exceeded by the intensity of his repentance, nor than St. Paul, who published himself to have been a blasphemer and a persecutor. If the best men among us have, through the preventing grace of God, been preserved from the signal offences of prophets and apostles, they will themselves be the foremost to acknowledge how, beyond all comparison, they are below them, in that devotedness of spirit, that contempt of earthly things, and that annihilation of self, which so eminently characterized those inspired servants of God.

But suppose we were to go farther, even if it could be proved that some individual charge had not been altogether unfounded. Even this possible evil in the man would not invalidate the truths he has been teaching. Balaam, though a bad man, prophesied truly. Erasmus, whose piety is almost as doubtful as his wit and learning were unquestionable, yet by throwing both into the right scale, was a valuable instrument in effecting the great work in which he was concerned. Erasmus powerfully assisted the Reformation, though it is not quite so clear that the Reformation essentially benefited Erasmus.

If then the writer advances unanswerable arguments in

the cause of truth, if he impressively enforces its practical importance, his character, even if defective, should not invalidate his reasoning. Though we allow that even to the reader it is far more satisfactory when the life illustrates the writing, yet we must never bring the conduct of the man as any infallible test of the truth of his doctrine. Allow this, and the reverse of the proposition will be pleaded against us. Take the opposite case. Do we ever produce certain moral qualities which Hobbes, Bayle, Hume, and other sober sceptics possessed, as arguments for adopting their opinions? Do we infer as a necessary consequence, that their sentiments are sound because their lives were not flagitious?

But though it is an awful possibility, that the same work may at once promote God's glory and prove a danger to the instrument that promotes it; that the opulence of the very mind which is advancing religion, may be used by the owner to his hurt; that he may be so absorbed in it as a business that he may lose sight of his end; that he may neglect personal while he is advancing public religion; or be so anxious for the success of his work, that he cannot commit the event to Heaven: let us thankfully profit by the truths he teaches; bless God that he has been useful to us; and pray that his errors may not be imputed to him.

Many a sincere Christian will confess that when he is writing in an animated strain in the cause of religion, there are moments in which, from imbecility of mind or infirmity of body, or failure of animal spirits, while he is promoting the spiritual interests of others, he is inwardly lamenting his own deadness to the very things on which he is insisting. He however perseveres; like the army of Gideon, "faint yet pursuing," he suffers not the feeling to obstruct the act, till, as a reward for his perseverance, the act brings back the feeling. Were it suspected that some of his most approved pages were written under this declension of zeal, what a clamor would be raised against his inconsistency, when his merit, if we dare use the word merit, consists in overcoming the languor of his spirit, and in acting as if he felt it not. His depression may in fact have been augmented by his humility. He has trembled lest the solemnity with which he has been calling upon others should not stir up his own feelings; lest the arguments which were intended to alarm the reader should leave his own heart cold and unaffected.

While it is of the nature of scientific principles to adapt themselves only to one particular bent of mind, and of the inventive powers to address persons of imagination only, it is the

character of Christianity, and should be the aim of the Christian writer, to accommodate their instructions to every class of society, to every degree of intellect, to every quality of mind, to every cast of temper. Christianity does not interfere with any particular form of study, any political propensity, any professional engagement, any legitimate pursuit. It claims to incorporate itself with the ideas of every intelligent mind which lies open to receive it; it infuses itself, when not repelled, into the character of every individual, as it originally assimilated itself to that of every government, without sacrificing any thing of its specific quality, without requiring any mind of a peculiar make for its reception.

Without altering its properties by any infusions of his own, a judicious writer will always consider how he may render it most acceptable to the capacity of the general recipient. To exclude reason from religion, he knows is not the way to attract argumentative men to inquire into its truth; to exclude elegance from its exhibition, is not the probable method to invite men of taste to speculate on its beauty. If however the writer possess little of the graces which embellish truth, if he cannot adorn it with those charms which, though they add nothing to its lustre, yet attract to its contemplation; still plain sense and unaffected piety may contribute to the production of a work which may prove useful to a large and valuable proportion of readers. But here if genius is not essential, good taste is never to be dispensed with. A sound judgment will be requisite to prevent piety from being repulsive to readers who have been accustomed to view other intellectual subjects exhibited in all the proprieties of which they are severally susceptible. Let them not see a subject of this transcendent importance injured by any debasing mixture, disfigured by any coarseness of language, nor degraded by any vulgar associations.

On the other hand, while some object so strenuously against the introduction of the affections into religion, what are we to understand from it, but that in the opinion of the objectors, a man will write the better because he does not feel his subject; that he will teach religion more safely to others from not hav ing felt its influence on his own heart; that he will make a deeper impression by writing from books than from himself, or rather that making an impression at all is a dangerous thing; that it is of the nature of enthusiasm, proceeding from it, and productive of it; that therefore it is better that the reader should not be impressed, but only informed.

But the sound and sober Christian takes the best precaution

against infusing a fanatical spirit by not possessing it. He cannot communicate the distemper of which he is not sick. He cautiously avoids it on a double ground. He knows that enthusiasm and superstition are not only mischievous in their nature, but that they furnish the profane with a plausible argument against religion itself. He remembers, and applies the observation, that to some pagan poets, especially Lucretius, these errors supplied atheism with her most powerful arms. But though he allows that enthusiasm is dangerous, he continues to write like one who knows that it is not the exclusive danger of the age; like one who is convinced that phrensy is not the only distemper in our spiritual bills of mortality; like one whose heart is warmed, not by animal pulsation, but by those quickening oracles of truth which carry in them "the demonstration of the spirit and of power;" like one who feels that religion is not a misleading fire, but an animating principle, which at once enlarges his views, elevates his aims, and ennobles his character.

But to return to the reader. If we had no higher reason to aim at improvement in piety, one would almost think that the mere feelings of gratitude and good-nature might tempt us to show our affection to our pious benefactors, by profiting from their exhortations, their counsels, their persuasions. It might almost touch a heart dead to superior considerations, to reflect how many departed worthies have wasted their strength, as to us, in vain. Among the witnesses who will appear against us in the great day of account, they will stand the foremost. Let us tremble as we figure to ourselves our unwilling accusers in that band of holy men, who earnestly sought to draw us, not to themselves, but to those treasures of inspiration, of which they were the faithful expositors; to the prophets and apostles," to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant, and to God the judge of all."

And is it not a cruel return to refuse those who still meekly wait the effect of their labors upon earth, the honest gratification of seeing that we have derived some little advantage from their exertions? Let us show them that they have not offered up the fervent prayers which doubtless accompanied their unwearied labors to no end. While so many saints are now rejoicing in heaven, in the society of those whom their holy labors were made instrumental in bringing thither; let us not give those who are still zealously devoting their talents to the same glorious purpose upon earth, sad cause to lament the total inefficacy of their endeavors to regret that they are sent to them who will not hear, or who remain as

if they had not heard-to suspect that if we do give them a patient hearing, it is for the sake of their style, their rhetoric, their good taste; but that when their eloquence opposes our corruptions, when their arguments cross our inclinations, when their persuasions trench upon our passions, or their remonstrances interfere with our vanity, we are insensible to the voice of the charmer; or if we forgive their piety for the sake of their talents, we seldom go further than forgiveness.

CHAP. II.

On Providence.

It is not easy to conceive a more deplorable state of mind, than to live in a disbelief of God's providential government of the world. To be threatened with troubles, and to see no power which can avert them; to be surrounded with sorrows, and discern no hand which can redress them; to labor under oppression or calumny, and believe there is no friend to relieve, and no judge to vindicate us; to live in a world, of which we believe its ruler has abdicated the throne, or delegated the direction to chance; to suspect that he has made over the triumph to injustice, and the victory to impiety; to suppose that we are abandoned to the casualties of nature, and the domination of wickedness; to behold the earth a scene of disorder, with no superintendent to regulate it; to hear the storms beating, and see the tempests spreading desolation around, with no influence to direct, and no wisdom to control them: all this would render human life a burden intolerable to human feeling. Even a heathen, in one of those glimpses of illumination which they seemed occasionally to catch, could say, it would not be worth while to live in a world which was not governed by Providence.

But as soon as we clearly discern the mind which appoints, and the hand which governs, all events, we begin to see our way through them: as soon as we are brought to recognise God's authority, and to confide in his goodness, we can say to our unruly hearts, what he said to the tempestuous waves, Peace, be still. Though all is perplexity, we know who can reduce confusion into order: once assured of the protection of the Supreme Intelligence, we shall possess our souls in patience, and resign our will with submission. As soon as this conviction is fully established, we become persuaded