acter of the pious mind, that let us have as it is. Let a man fill his soul with the glorious thoughts, the blessed visions of piety and goodness; and then let him speak from this fulness of his heart, as he would speak for his friend, for his fame, for his country, for his home. This would be reality and power! May we see and hear more of it in our Churches; more of the glowing expression, of the kindling eye, of the bursting heart; more of the native tones of piety, richer than music; more of the seraphic loveliness of religion, pure, undisfigured, and undefiled, before God and the Father!

I must dwell a moment longer on this topic; and I hope I may be allowed to do so with particular reference to Clergymen, and to those who are entering into this sacred profession. With the rational views— I do not mean the doctrinal, but the general views— which we, as Unitarians, entertain of religion, we cannot fall into the sin of cant. We cannot adopt the semitone, that is, the tone of plaintiveness. It is this-for the matter is not altogether conventional-it is this that naturally moves many a hearer, though he scarcely knows why. It is a holy voice; it is an affecting tone; it comes with an unction, to his feelings. We cannot use this tone, and other si:nilar traits of delivery; and, therefore, we shall be prononnced devoid of feeling, by the mass of people, unless we rise to evident and manifest power. It is not enough, it never ought to be enough, to be barely correct in the pulpit. Now, there is feeling in our hearts; there is power in our affections; there is an interest in religion, actually felt among us, which would move others, if we only knew how to manifest it. I do not know a man so ordinary in our pulpits,

but in a private conversation, with an inquiring, troubled, anxious, or afflicted person, he would be interesting. Let us carry this freedom of feeling into the pulpit. Let us be at home in the pulpit; striving, with unwearied preparation and constant prayer, to obtain this freedom. Let us, in 'simplicity and godly sincerity,' speak forth that which is most within us,' and we cannot fail to interest, and to edify our hearers. There is a tremendous loss, to the pulpit, of the talent that is actually in it. How this is to be prevented, seems to me, one of the most important inquiries that can be presented to our theological students, and their instructers.

There are other means and institutions of religion, connected with public worship, besides preaching; but the length to which I have already gone on this head, admonishes me not to enlarge upon them. And the whole subject of ritual religion, indeed, demands a fuller discussion than my present limits will allow me to sketch, even in a general outline. I suppose, however, that the most fastidious on the subject of religious institutions, will allow that religion, in this respect, is to be treated like other things. Let it, then, in this respect, take the fate of education, learning, society or domestic welfare; we ask no better for it. Let men do for religion, as a matter of form and institution, what they are wont to do for these objects; and it shall suffice. And certainly, not till they have done with forms, in entering upon the marriage state, with compacts in society, with establishments for the support of learning, and with teachings in education, can they consistently object to the like things in re

ligion. Not till they decide against the bestowment of time and expense on other objects, connected with human welfare, can they reasonably decide against all similar appropriations for the promotion of piety and virtue. Religion is as truly a social concern as any other. It is as truly a social, as it is an individual concern; and in neither character can it flourish without care and culture. It is, like every thing in this world, dependant on means. It is as dependant on means, as knowledge. And he who, while professing to value it, should be constantly pleading that it is a private affair, and must spring from an inward impulse alone, would act as unwisely, I think, as he who should say, concerning knowledge, True, it is an excellent thing; but it is a thing that every man must have to himself, and within himself; let us destroy the school-houses, and scatter these class books, that are filling the youthful mind with foreign notions and prejudices; let these times and seasons of teaching and learning be abolished; and let all rest in pure simplicity and perfect freedom.' It would, indeed, be the simplicity of universal ignorance, and the freedom of universal licentiousness, And a like result would follow, if a like course were pursued in religion. D.

6

'TO DIE IS GAIN.'

Ah, is it thus, blest mortal?—I would ask

How thou hast weighed, and by what process brought

The Apostle's answer to thy sum of life.

Where are thy balances, and whose firm hand
Did poise therein thy talents and their use
To shew such grand result?—Time's capital
Needs well be husbanded, to leave the amount
Of gain behind, when at a moment's call
The spirit fleets, and the dissolving flesh
Yields to the earth-worm's fang.

-Say, hath thy lip
Too often satiate, loathed the mingled cup,
Unthinking filled at Pleasure's turbid stream?—
Or hath thine ear the promises of Hope
Drank on in giddy sickness, till the touch
Of grave philosophy their emptiness
Detected, and to their own element

Of air reduced?-Or doth thy cheated heart,
Sowing its warm affections on the wind,
And reaping but the whirlwind, loathing turn
From every harvest which these changeful skies
Can ripen or destroy?-Then hast thou proved
The loss of life, but not the gain of death.
But hast thou by thy ceaseless prayers obtained
Such token of acceptance with thy God,
So filled each post of duty, so sustained
All needful discipline, so deeply mourned
Each burden of iniquity, that Death
Comes as a favored messenger to lead
To its bright heritage the willing soul?

-Searcher of hearts, thou knowest! Thou alone
The hidden thought dost read,—the daily act
Note unforgetful.-Take away the dross
Of earthly principle, the gathered film

Of self-deluding hope,-the love and hate
That have their root in dust, until the soul,
Regarding life and death with equal eye,
Absorbs its will in Thine.

CHRIST 'LIFTED UP,' AND

UNTO HIM.

H.

6

DRAWING ALL MEN'

And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me.

John xii, 32.

In this passage, our Saviour speaks of his death as the means of his success and his glory. To be lifted up, undoubtedly means to be lifted up on the cross, to die by crucifixion. And the influence of his death, the Saviour says, shall be in drawing all men to him. It is one of those passages that clearly set forth the purpose of the death of Christ. It was to draw all men unto him. It was to operate, not upon God, but upon men. It was not to make the Supreme Father merciful, but to make man a worthy object of his mercy. It was to make men disciples and followers of Jesus Christ. 'I, if I be lifted up, shall draw all men unto me.' My death shall have a convincing, persuasive efficacy upon the minds and hearts of men. It shall satisfy their understandings of the validity of my claims; it shall awaken their conscience to the evil of sin, when they reflect how much I suffered to remove it; it shall stir and melt their hearts, when they reflect that it was from love of them, that I poured out my blood like