teaching these particular truths—this becomes a question of mere words. For though originality was no longer possible, in the sense of novelty, still his office was original-he was the first to announce these truths as divine.

Suppose, for example, an inspired prophet were now to appear in the church, to add a supplement to the canonical books, what a Babel of opinions would he find existing on almost every theological subject!-and how highly probable is it that his ministry would consist, or seem to consist, in the mere selection and ratification of such of these opinions as accorded with the mind of God. Absolute originality would seem to be almost impossible. The inventive mind of man has already bodied forth speculative opinions in almost every conceivable form; forestalling and robbing the future of its fair proportion of novelties; and leaving little more, even to a divine messenger, than the office of taking some of these opinions, and impressing them with the seal of heaven. Imagine him to choose for his theme that vinum dæmonum of the church in every age-the subject of a millenium; and may it not be confidently affirmed, that whatever his doctrine might be, an anticipation of it, if not the identical doctrine itself, has appeared already among the thousand theories which the church has heard on the subject? Yet how important the office which would still devolve on him, in evoking the one truth, and dispersing the multiplied attendant errors; and how worthy of a teacher sent from God. Humanly speaking, the task of the aged seer, in selecting from the eleven sons of Jesse the future king of Israel, was easy, compared with the task of him who has to choose from a multitude of speculative opinions, all of which are specious, and popular, and possessed of an apparent likeness, the one heaven-born truth, and anoint it for the Lord.

Now such was the relation in which our Lord may be said to have stood to some of the doctrines of the New Testament. Originality, in the sense of novelty, was, on these particular subjects, impossible: for the teeming mind of man, quickened to activity by some hint of scripture, had already occupied the ground with theories of every grade of merit, and opinions adapted to every taste. With these, hypothetically speaking, the Savior might be acquainted,

or he might not. On the supposition that he did not know them, the doctrine he taught on either of these subjects, however familiar it might already have been to human ears, was unborrowed, original, and emphatically his own; it had no other channel in its descent from the celestial throne to the human heart, but his own inspired lips. On the supposition that he knew them, his office, at least, was original, and equally dignified: for still he proclaimed the particular truth, not because man had patronized it, but because he knew it to be the true saying of God. And more than that, he redeemed it from the base companionship of error, and made it free of the universe. He not merely rescued it from the gloomy region of doubt, but enabled it to shine in its own right, and to illuminate the surrounding darkness. If he found it one of the multitude, he raised it to the throne. If he found it a guess, he left it a doctrine-a living and incorporated member of the immortal body of truth. If he found it an outcast, he took it within the pale and royalty of truth, and surrounded it with the awful sanctions of the God of truth. He proved himself to be the Word and the Wisdom of God.

Had space permitted, it was my intention to have added two sections to this second essay;-one, on the Originality of our Lord's teaching on Faith;-and the other, on the Originality of his teaching on the comparative claims of Heaven and Earth. The former might easily be expanded into a volume, and could scarcely be illustrated in less. The latter requires only a specimen: which, as the preface has already become so miscellaneous, I will take the liberty of giving.

Much of the preaching of Jesus was occupied in adjusting the claims between heaven and earth; so frequently did he return to this theme, and so conspicious a place did he assign to it in his discourses, that it may be said to be one of their distinguishing features. A prevailing characteristic of man, as pourtrayed in scripture, is an inordinate attachment to the world. Sin having expelled from his heart the love of God, the love of the world has rushed into the vaccuum, and made it impossible for any but omnipotence to dislodge it. Having lost that organ of spiritual vision, which, by keeping another world in view in

rivalry with this, would have preserved the balance of his affections even, the present is left to tyrannize over him with all the advantage of a power which is ever visible, ever at hand, soliciting him and making itself necessary to him in a thousand different ways; while the only rival which it has to dread is not only invisible, but incalculably remote and having thus sustained the loss of a world, having thus become reduced in spiritual wealth by the loss of a whole order of ennobling objects, he not only pours out his affections on the unworthiest things that offer, but he has literally idolized the most contemptible. Most graphically is he represented in the word of God as bearing the image of the earthy; his very mind has become materialized: instead of being pictured over with celestial imagery, it only contains the portraiture of the world; in all its chambers of imagery are depictured and burnt in the debasing abominations of earth. The mind, which with one sweep of its pinions should have reached the stars, settles down in the dust; his affections, which were meant to rise and be diffused over an infinite circumference of which God is the centre, let themselves down, and labor to accommodate themselves to an indivisible point, a fugitive atom. As if an anchor were fixed in the centre, his bosom is enchained to the earth. The material particles of which the globe consists, do not obey the law by which they cohere more constantly, than man endeavors to accommodate himself to the world as his centre of moral gravity.

Now the Savior addressed himself to the task of correcting this evil. Entering the mart of the busy world, where nothing is heard but the monotonous hum of the traders in vanity, he lifts us his voice like the trump of God, and seeks to break the spell which infatuates them, while he exclaims, What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul? or what shall he give in exchange for his soul? Were all sublunary glory laid at your feet, let a few years expire and death would force you away from your world; and then a few years more, and your world, and all that is in it, would be burnt but your soul, your immortal soul-what can com

up;

C

pensate for the loss of that?' He calls for that nobler world they had lost from their hemisphere, and brings it again within the range of their vision. He takes them to the threshold of the infinite, and shows it flushed in one part with living glories, and in another burning with the fiercest flames of wrath; while he assures them that in one or the other of these states they will shortly be fixed for ever. Watch therefore,' saith he, 'for ye know not when the time is.'

Having thrown open to view that interminable duration, and compelled them to see that they are actually approaching it, he proceeds to adjust its momentous claims in harmony with the duties of the life that now is. It might have been apprehended that the vision of eternity, if once beheld, would utterly incapacitate us for the affairs of time; that the infinite grandeur of the future, having suffered so total an obscuration from the littleness of the present, would have taken revenge on that littleness, by henceforth engrossing our every thought. But the Savior did not come, as the avenging champion of eternity, to annihilate time and its appropriate interests. Having deposed it from its usurped supremacy, he takes it by the hand, and assigns it its place and its duties as a subject. He aims to impregnate every moment of life with endless results. Having weeded life of its vanities, he commands us to cultivate it with all that is useful and precious as fruit for the heavenly garner. He would have every moment of life to be so passed, as to fructify into an age of pleasant recollections.

That eternity might not be an object of mere barren contemplation, he has so revealed it that its hallowing light falls upon fields of activity and usefulness which before were involved in darkness; every thing conducive to our real interest, in every relation of life, receives its countenance, and rejoices in its sanction. If he finds us lost in indolent musing on the future, he breaks up our vacant-eyed reverie by the startling monition, Why stand ye here all the day idle? Work while it is day, for the night cometh wherein no man can work.' That eternity might not overwhelm us by its solemnities, he has not only softened its aspect, and made it welcome as the face of a

friend, he also engages our attention to daily duties which hold us in a state of healthful activity. Our life, in his hands, is converted into a lamp, which, like the virgins of the parable, or the priests of the temple, we are to keep bright and burning. Our various endowments are so many talents, which the Lord of all expects us to multiply by constant use. He calls us to be the almoners and agents of providence, to the poor who are always with us;' models of correctness in all the relations of life; and centres of light and usefulness wherever we move. It is necessary that celestial observations should be taken in order to construct a terrestrial chart; and having a chart to consult thus accurately formed, the skilful mariner is prepared to navigate the wastes of ocean with tranquil confidence. If the view we entertain of eternity disqualifies us for the duties of life, it is not to be traced to the gospel of Christ; he meant not that it should haunt us as a terror, but accompany us as a guide: nor will he accept the convulsive service which it may occasionally extort from us, by alarming us into a spasm of fear. He camly enquires, Are there not twelve hours in the day? Does not the day of life, short as it is, contrasted with eternity, contain time sufficient, if properly employed, for all that is truly valuable?' And having engaged us in his service, and pointed out our duty, he gives us a glimpse of eternity to quicken the pulse of activity, and expects us to distribute our agency as equally as possible over the remaining hours of time.

But the liability of eternity to paralyze the active duties of time is not to be named, as a danger, compared with the fatal and universal propensity of men to subordinate the claims of the future to the affairs of the present. While their enlightened judgment compels them to concede the point of superiority to heaven, their depraved heart is for giving the practical precedence to earth; and the result of this variance is an attempted compromise between the two claimants. But against such an accommodation, the Redeemer enters his protest; appealing to the tribunal of common sense, he exclaims, 'No man can serve two masters, whose interests clash.' The experiment has been made and repeated in every form, and in every age; and