The possibility of man's sinning, indeed, only demonstrates the reality of his freedom. And the fact that his sinning was only possible, and not necessary, proves that the limitation arising from his dependence left that reality untouched. We are not now, however, treating of man actual and historical, but of man potential. And, we repeat, that the fact that the infinitely free God was pleased to will the limitation of His own agency, is the very ground which makes the freedom of man possible, though he is dependent; and which provides for his obedience, though he is free. While his necessary finiteness and dependence surround him with a circle beyond which he has no power to move, the Supreme Will assigns that, within that circle, his will shall be free from the centre to the circumference. what higher guarantee can be given that his unconstrained movements will be all in harmony with the free activity of the Supreme Agent, than the fact, that his freedom is an endowment designed expressly to manifest and represent the Divine freedom?

And

29. This coincidence of the free human will with the Divine is essential, therefore, in order to its perfection. For if the operation of the Divine will is according to infinite reason, and is therefore perfect, the "freedom of a finite will is possible under this condition only, that it becomes one with the will of God." Where this harmony has either never been disturbed, or is entirely restored, holy influences from without may be supposed to act on and through the emotions most directly. There is nothing in the mind to divert their course, or to diminish their intensity. "The pure in heart shall see God;" and the light which streams from his presence reaches their will without decomposition or refraction. Voluntarily they place themselves in a line with its rays, and spontaneously move only in the direction of its beams; and as they go on consciously brightening under its radiance, the continuous act of unconstrained choice which retains them in it, reflects it back again in homage with added splendor. And thus the state in which they appear, from their spontaneous and perfect conformity to the Divine law, to be the least free, or to be most completely surrendered to the will of God, is the state in which each is most vividly conscious of individuality, and in which all feel themselves most exultingly free.

30. This view suggests the reply appropriate to the second part of the inquiry-How can the freedom of the human will consist with the necessary laws to which nature is subjected?

Nature itself owes its origin to the same source, and exists for the same end, as the human mind, however different its constitution. Had the free human being come into a world not yet subjected to law (admitting for a moment the possibility of such a world), he would have found that until it was brought under law, it was no world for him either to know or to employ. Its pre-existing laws were the very conditions of its habitableness. All of them, however, are but the appointments and inferior expressions of the same Divine will which has endowed him with freedom. It is not possible, therefore, to conceive, on the one hand, of nature as standing in contradiction to freedom; and if, on the other, the human will is in coincidence with the Divine will, it follows that it is in coincidence with everything that expresses that will, and therefore with nature. Besides, nature itself is mechanical only as viewed apart from its Maker; and as having no will of its own, or in itself. Regarded as the production of the Infinite will, and the expression of Divine attributes, it supposes that the finite will which already agrees with the Infinite will, is one with nature also. "The finite will," as Coleridge expresses it, "gives a beginning only by coincidence with the absolute will, which is at the same time, infinite power. Such is the language of religion, and of philosophy too, in the last instance. But I express the same truth in ordinary language when I say that a finite will, or a finite free-agent, acts outwardly by confluence with the laws of nature." Primarily, the only freedom he needs, is that of being able to act on his own nature, to assert his exemption from the iron chain of physical laws. And this liberty he consciously asserts, partly in the high ends to which he applies these laws. Availing himself of these, or acting in harmony with them, his power over nature is of a degree unknown-a power, indeed, which, as comprehended in his own will, corresponds with the Supreme will. Nature thus treated, so far from being hostile to his freedom, aspires to share it; and he, the finite artist, aspires to call into existence forms unknown to nature- a second nature-in humble imitation of the productive energy of the Creator.

31. And thus we arrive at the conclusion, that though motives are not the compelling cause of volitions, they yet stand harmoniously related to them as essential conditions. This is at once a fact of observation, and a truth of consciousness.

* Aids to Reflection, p. 261.

It is

this which makes both sin and holiness possible. And it is this wondrous arrangement by which man, the inferior part of whose constitution is itself mechanical and necessary, possesses the means of bringing that part of his nature into the Divine presence, and of offering it up as a free-will offering to God. Thus resembling his Maker in another respect; for as all material nature is the product of the Divine will, and is made subservient to the Divine glory, so man, made in the image of God, possesses the means of subjecting that condensed world, his own nature, to the Divine will, as the free act of his own individual will.

32. We have now to attempt, as proposed, a brief exposition of the laws of the will in relation to motives. If the view which we have taken be correct, it may be expected (1.) that the will is capable of availing itself, in some manner, of the different motives or classes of motives, to an act or a course of conduct, before it decides what that course shall be. Motives are of different orders, answering to man's different relations, internal and external; motives arising from his appetites, his self-love, his affections, and his regard for the will of God. (Of that sense of duty, or consciousness of obligation, which may underlie the entire field of motives, and which, when present, adds to them a sacred and ultimate character, we have not now to speak.) These motives lie around the will, and enclose it. The more a man observes, converses, and reflects, the more the motives of each class are multiplied. No motive of one class can influence him to put forth a volition, to which volition motives belonging to the other classes do not also bear a more or less intimate relation. Are these other classes of motives to exist in vain? At one time or other, they have been present to his mind; can they in no way be recovered when it is most important that they should be felt? and, if they are recoverable, what is the state of the mind in the interval which passes between the first motive to an act, and the action? Now, that the will is not necessarily impelled by the first motive which acts on it, in any given instance, we have seen already. And if, having decided not to yield to it, at least, till other motives appear; if, during this pause, the mind re-produces prior convictions, or presents new considerations, and if the will is then decided by these latter reasons, it has in so far resisted the first motive, and has adopted another, which presented itself as the indirect consequence of that resistance. This is a mental process of familiar occurrence. If the plurality of motives

between which the will decides be not a plurality of coexistence, but of successive existence, the process begins in the act of the will negativing the first motive, and thus affording scope and opportunity for the introduction of others; this is followed by the power of recollection, or suggestion, or both, producing them; and of attention in regarding them; though after all, perhaps, the first motive may prevail. This power of the will it is which constitutes the chief difference between the mere creature of impulse or of circumstances, and the man who acts from wise deliberation.

33. (2.) It would further augment the power of the will if, besides being able to call for objects of thought as motives to action, each of these objects should suggest to the mind a train of other and associated objects, accompanied by their appropriate emotions. Now, such proves to be the fact. An object may solicit the will to move in a particular direction, but before the movement is made, other objects of thought are summoned to reinforce the prior motive, or else to counteract it. They come not singly, but in linked association; and it depends on which of these the attention fixes, and on its character, as to whether the will moves in the direction at first indicated, or in an opposite course. Not only will that act of attention magnify the importance of the object, and invest it with a light which will cast the others into shade; if that act of attention be continued, the effect will be to bring all those other thoughts as auxiliaries, and to range them around that central motive, to strengthen and to serve it. Everything will seem to join as minor motives, in urging the will in the direction of that selected and principal motive.

How vital the connection which exists between the subjective and the objective, when the world without is thus able to call up trains of thought in the world within; and the world within to be ever drawing in fresh materials of thought from the world without! How vital the connection between these movements within, when, to call for a single thought is to tend, at least, to move the whole; and when, of all which do appear, there is not one which might not prove an incentive to action! And how lofty that power of the mind which, when surrounded by these motives, and influenced by them, can yet decide to which it will yield!

34. (3.) The power of the will would be still greater if, besides indirectly calling for motives to action, it could select and attend to any one of these motives at pleasure. We say in

directly call for them, for, as we have shown above, the will cannot, on the instant, did any or every train of thought into its presence which the nature of the impending volition might render seasonable and important. But, having delayed the volition, having resisted a present motive that it might delay, and having thus placed itself in a condition to receive the influence of other motives, the mind does possess the important power of selecting either of these, and of concentrating upon it the whole of its regards. This is the faculty of attention; and an act of attention is a voluntary act, an exercise or manifestation of the will.

According to a preceding head, I can, by a volition, transport myself to a new scene of observation; and, in so far, I must be regarded as voluntarily exposing myself to the action or influence of whatever objects that scene may exhibit. But, when surrounded by these objects, I can, according to the present head, determine, by another volition, on which, or whether on any, of all these objects I will fix my regards. Besides the muscular power which my will employed to take me to the spot, I can, when there, employ the same muscular power to remove me from it; or to close my eyes and to shut out the entire scene; or to keep my gaze steadily fixed on only one of all the objects which it contains. So also, by voluntarily calling for certain objects of thought, and by bringing them from the past, the distant, or the future, I am, in effect, willing the emotions which they are calculated to excite. The particular object I wish to think of, indeed, may be forgotten; but something relating to it may be remembered, and by dwelling upon that, I am voluntarily giving it the opportunity of recalling all the objects of thought with which it is associated; and, among them, the particular idea I desire to recover. Not only therefore is the emotional influence of that particular idea when recovered to be traced back to that act of the will which first called for it, but whatever influence has been shed on me by the train of ideas which at length brought me to it, I must be regarded as having voluntarily submitted to likewise. And, in like manner, if I desire to avoid a certain object of thought, I can call for one of a contrary nature; in which case, I voluntarily withdraw my mind from one class of emotions and subject it to another.

35. (4.) Further, the power of the will would be shown if, besides being able to summon objects as occasions of motives into its presence, and to select any one of these as an object of attention, the effect of that attention should be to render our perception of that object more vivid than it would otherwise be.