but curse the anticipation of the hallowed morn, are greatly benefited by it when it comes. It does good to all. It brings, as it were, the breath of God even to the nostrils of the most wicked. It is a sore trial to the worldling. He can scarcely defend himself against its influence but by cursing it. And many yield to its blessed influence, and are brought to God by it. And those who go the other way, if they confess at all before they die, generally confess this, that the neglect and violation of the Sabbath, was the beginning of their strength in crime. Let no one speak against the Sabbath, till he has thought much upon the subject.

The positive precepts of Paradise, therefore, so far as we can learn, when referred to general principles of morality, or, in other words, when moralized, amount to these all-embracing maxims,—Beware of Indulgence, and ADORE GOD, maxims in which it might be demonstrated that all true duty, all true happiness, are included; and by which it might be equally shewn that all true liberty must be circumscribed.

But the precepts necessary for the admonition and education of reason and conscience thus laid down for our first parents in two positive institutions, all the details of every-day life, were fully committed to their own conduct. A command was given, and that wholly in the form of a command. And this, all independently of its particular nature, was calculated to remind them, as it echoed in their memories, that they were creatures, and that the first article in their calling was obedience to their Creator. But yet, even in this command, very much was left for the discovery of their reason. It went a certain length, but yet it left far more to be understood by them than was expressed in it. In so far as concerned the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, it regulated man's manner of living. But, thus taught that one pro

duct of the earth was injurious, man was left to discover for himself with regard to all others, except fruits, whether they were fit for use or not. His religion, in like manner, was regulated for him so far. The Sabbath was appointed. But as to man's mode of worship, no formal ritual was prescribed. On the contrary, he was required to develope for himself a congenial and suitable Sabbathservice out of the grateful and devotional sentiments of his own heart.

Now, if, in such circumstances, we conceive that, instead of a single pair, there had been thousands of worshippers assembled in many groves all over the East, is it credible that there could have been an universal uni

formity over all! An unity of faith, an unity of spirit, a communion among all, there would undoubtedly have been. But when the utterances of thousands of hearts, all individualized and peculiarly strung, freely embodied themselves in unrestrained words, and attitudes, and forms of worship, would there not have been variety too as well as unity? Who can doubt it for a moment?

But not to dwell on this argument, since it stands on a mere hypothesis, and since the melancholy fact is, that the human race fell from innocence, while yet, instead of being thousands, they were only two, let us pass on, repeating only the fact which so fully appears from what has been stated, namely, that when man was innocent, almost every thing was entrusted to his reason and conscience, almost every thing was expected from the piety of his own heart, enlarged and ennobled by immediate converse and communion with God. Such was the state of things in Paradise. And what could be more diverse from that which the church that insists on uniformity,—the church of Rome-presents to us? In that church, the prescribed form, the positive institution, the rubric, is every thing. In Paradise, on the contrary, a sense of God, the

utterance of the heart, spontaneous piety was every thing. In so far, therefore, as the paradisaical state is to be viewed as the limit towards which the gospel is designed to raise those whom it regenerates, it is very certain that the attempt to suppress the dictates of reason and conscience, and the utterance of the heart, in order to gain an universal uniformity in religion, derives no countenance from it.

THE CHERUBIM.

But the dreary hour is come when man, refusing already to remain in the place assigned to him by his Maker, and aspiring to be a god, is "divorced"—is driven forth from Eden; and the cherubim are placed at the east of the garden "to keep the way of the tree of life." Now, whatever view we take of these cherubs; whether we adopt the ordinary view and regard them as actual angelic beings; or prefer the opinions of those who, after having bestowed great pains on the inquiry, regard them as the originals of the cherubim afterwards ordered for the Tabernacle, and believe that they were appointed to keep the way of the tree of life in the same way as the symbolism of the Old Testament economy was; we are equally led to the conclusion, that their office or ministry must have been to quicken conscience, of which their flaming sword (or involving fire) was so apt a representative; and to keep alive a sense of God on those who, but for some such symbolism and memorial of his character, might have soon forgotten Him.

Even supposing, as may be maintained with much learning, if not with equal evidence from Scripture, that this place to the East of Eden, where the cherubim were posted, was the spot where resort was made for the primitive worship of God, who, as we know He did after

wards, may possibly then have communed with the worshippers from between or above the cherubim, still there is nothing in this resorting there for worship, which reason and conscience could not bring about. On the contrary, such a result as the congregating thither of the primitive worshippers, is just what is to be expected, if we suppose them left wholly free to the guidance of these monitors. Thus, suppose there were an object now, whatever its nature, if only it were known to have been placed where it stood by God, who would be contented till he had gone and seen it? And if it were a divine symbol impressed by the Divine presence, whether with life or fire; and especially if it told such a tale as the expulsion of man from paradise by the God whom he had justly offended, who could refrain from being moved by devotional feelings in the presence of that object ?-who could refrain from kneeling down there to implore pardon, and pray for a way of acceptance? Thus, even supposing it to have been the work and design of God that the first men should come to the east of the Garden of Eden to worship, it would not have needed a positive command to bring them there. Nor could any positive precept have made so sure of their coming, as the curiosity and other motives which the placing of the cherubim would call into action.

This view, if adopted, would enable us also to explain all the leading features of the early idolatries, especially the resemblances among their principal idols; while, with regard to the Mosaic symbolism, the disagreeable idea that much of it was merely adopted from that at Egypt as its prototype, would fall to the ground; because, according to this view, the idolatrous objects of the Egyptians themselves, which are known to have resembled, to a considerable extent, certain symbols which Moses was commanded to construct, would be viewed in the light not of originals but spurious representatives of an older symbolism belonging

to the true religion, of which the true forms and symbolic meanings had been lost and corrupted by human depravity. All this would follow if the view which has been given as to the cherubim at the East of Eden being the original Tabernacle of the first worshippers be adopted; for, according to the principles of human nature, it is only to be expected that, in these circumstances, men, as they multiplied and spread, and became more indifferent about Eden and about the cherubs there, would construct representatives of these cherubs at their homes and in their cities, and depart from all truth both as to their forms and signification. In this way the winged figures which we find among the monuments of the ancient Persians and Egyptians, would receive a happy explanation. In a word, in order to account for all the phenomena of the early mythologies, it would only be necessary to consider the workings of natural reason and conscience in fallen man.

Nor let it be advanced as an objection to the views of this work, that it is confessed in the preceding remarks on the cherubim, that there was an uniformity in the primitive worship, because it has been shewn to have been extremely probable that all the worshippers came to the cherubim, and probably expressed there, the same feelings and offered up the same prayers. Such uniformity, an uniformity which results from the spontaneous movements of the hearts of individual worshippers, is not objected to in this work; on the contrary, it is anticipated as one of the most beautiful features of the millennium.

But what, let me ask again, did the cherubim sym bolize and represent; and what views respecting the necessity of an uniformity over all the church, or of the sufficiency of an unity of spirit in variety of form, does this view of the subject lead to? The prevalent view respecting the cherubim is, that they were angelic beings, or symbolic figures which represented angelic beings. Some