of the eye and its motions, enable us to read off from the face and eyes thus acted upon what the affections and thoughts of the mind are.

How this is done may be considered as a fair subject for inquiry, but at present all that is known regarding the transmission of the will and thought to the muscles is limited to the channels of transmission, the nerves; the peculiar power by which it is effected is unknown. It is called by physiologists nervous force; by Swedenborg, influx.

The different aspects of the face produced by the influx of nervous power from the brain through the nerves on the muscles, as beforementioned, afford a beautiful exemplification of the Science of Correspondences, for these aspects correspond exactly to the motions in the brain, and these again to the thought or will of the mind; yet how do we perceive this relation? Is it from use and experience alone? Or do we not possess some instinctive power of perceiving this correspondence, a power fully possessed by the men of the most ancient church, when there were no dissemblers, and still continued to us in an imperfect state?

In support of this view the following circmustance is adduced, as narrated in the "Autobiography of Heinrich Zschokke," which may probably be in some degree explained upon the supposition, in his case, of a great increase in this perception of man's character, informing him of the minute particulars of the whole or a part of man's past life; when of a part, as related below, then probably of some circumstances which something had recalled to the man's recollection, and which, being then active in the memory, were pourtrayed in the face at the time of meeting.

The work from which this extract is taken, has been noticed in a previous number of the Intellectual Repository. It is the autobiography of a good man, written at the close of a long life of usefulness during the struggles of the Swiss Republic for liberty and order, and containing a great deal of most interesting matter, illustrating faithfully the effects of the dawning light of truth upon ignorance, and its gradual operation in developing order, despite the fierce opposition of the selfishness and worldly-mindedness of those in power. In effecting this he played an important part, and became consequently more or less intimately acquainted with the leading characters who took part in the desolating wars that spread over Europe from the close of the last century to the peace of 1815, and in resisting the attempts which were afterwards made to restore many of the governments to their former states of tyranny and bigotry.

The following is the narrative alluded to:

"It has happened to me sometimes on my first meeting with strangers, as I listened silently to their discourse, that their former life, with many trifling circumstances therewith connected, or frequently some particular scene in that life, has passed quite involuntarily, and as it were dream-like, yet perfectly distinct before me. During this time I usually feel so entirely absorbed in the contemplation of the stranger life, that at last I no longer see clearly the face of the unknown wherein I undesignedly read, nor distinctly hear the voices of the speakers, which before served in some measure as a commentary to the text of their features. For a long time I held such visions as delusions of the fancy, and the more so as they shewed me even the dress and motions of the actors, rooms, furniture, and other accessories. By way of jest, I once in a familiar family circle at Kirchberg related the secret history of a seamstress who had just left the room and the house. I had never seen her before in my life. People were astonished and laughed, bnt were not to be persuaded that I did not previously know the relations of which I spoke, for what I had uttered was the literal truth. I, on my part, was no less astonished that my dream-pictures were confirmed by the reality. I became more attentive to the subject, and when propriety admitted it, I would relate to those whose life thus passed before me the subject of my vision, that I might thereby obtain confirmation or refutation of it. It was invariably ratified, not without consternation on their part. I, myself, had less confidence than any one in this mental jugglery. So often as I revealed my visionary gifts to any new person, I regularly expected to hear the answer-'It was not so.' I felt a secret shudder when my auditors replied that it was true, or when their astonishment betrayed my accuracy before they spoke. Instead of many, I will mention one example which preëminently astounded me. One fairday, in the city of Waldshut, I entered an inn (the Vine) in company with two young student-foresters. We were tired with rambling through the woods. We supped with a numerous society at the table d'hôte, where the guests were making very merry with the peculiarities and eccentricities of the Swiss, with Mesmer's magnetism, Lavator's physiognomy, &c. One of my companions, whose national pride was wounded by their mockery, begged me to make some reply, particularly to a handsome young man who sat opposite us, and who had allowed himself extraordinary licence. This man's former life was at that moment presented to my mind. I turned to him, and asked whether he would answer me candidly if I related to him some of the most secret passages of his life? I knowing as little of him personally as he did of me. That would be going a little further, I thought, than Lavater did with his physiognomy. He promised, if I were correct in my information, to admit it frankly. I then related what my vision had shown me and the whole company were made acquainted with the private history of the young merchant,-his school years, his youthful errors, and lastly, with a fault committed in reference to the strong box of his principal. I described to him the uninhabited room, with whitened walls, where, to the right of the brown door, on a table, stood a black money-box, &c. A dead silence prevailed during the whole narration, which I alone occasionally interrupted by inquiring whether I spoke the truth? The startled young man confirmed every particular, and even, what I had scarcely expected, the last-mentioned. Touched by his candour I shook hands with him over the table, and said no more. He asked my name, which I gave him, and we remained together talking till past midnight."

The Intellectual Repository, October 1, 1862.

This relation also illustrates what Swedenborg states respecting the interior memory: :

"Whatsoever a man hears and sees, and is affected with, these are insinuated, as to ideas and ends, into his interior memory, without his being aware of it, and there they remain, so that not a single impression is lost, although the same things are obliterated in the exterior memory. The interior memory, therefore, is such, that there are inscribed in it all the particular things-yea, the most particular-which man has at any time thought, spoken, and done; yea, which have appeared to him as a shadow, with the most minute circumstances, from his earliest infancy to extreme old age. Man has with him the memory of all these things when he comes into another life, and is successively brought into all recollection of them; this is the book of his life, which is opened in another life, and according to which he is judged. Man can scarce believe this, but still it is most true; all the ends of his life, which were to him hidden in obscurity, all that he had thought, and likewise all that he had spoken and done, as derived from those ends, are recorded, to the most minute circumstance, in that book, that is, in the interior memory, and are made manifest before the angels in a light as clear as day, whensoever the Lord sees good to permit it. This has at times been shewn me; and evidenced by so much and various experience, that there does not remain the smallest doubt concerning it." (A. C. 2474.)

Louth.

J. B.

THE STYLE OF THE WORD SUITED TO THE CHARACTER OF THE SUBJECT.

THE Scriptures were written, not to charm the ear or please the taste, but to inform the understanding and improve the heart; they were written, not for effect, but for power,-not to dazzle, but to enlighten,-not to move, but to elevate. For the most part, therefore, the Scriptures are expressed in, humanly speaking, unstudied and unadorned language, in the simple narrative, the plain precept, the earnest exhortation; yet in some instances, where the subject-still humanly speaking-demands it, where especially the perfections, the works, and the government of God are the themes, the language of inspiration rises into the highest order of rhetorical beauty and sublimity. The Song of Moses, in which the prophet celebrates the Almighty for the marvellous deliverance of the people, by opening for them a passage through the Red sea, and overthrowing Pharaoh and his host in its waters,—the Psalms of David, in which the Lord is praised for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men,—the prophecies of Isaiah, where the Lord is glorified as the living and omnipotent God, in opposition to dumb and senseless idols, and where His Advent is celebrated as the glory of Jehovah revealed, the commencement of the reign of truth and

The Intellectual Repository, October 1, 1862.

righteousness; these are instances of Divine Inspiration clothing itself in language at once impassioned and ornate. A well-known instance of

this occurs in that magnificent prophecy in the 40th chapter of Isaiah:"To whom will ye liken God? or what likeness will ye compare unto Him? It is He that sitteth on the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers; that stretcheth out the heavens as a curtain, and spreadeth them out as a tent to dwell in. Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of His hand, and meted out heaven with a span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance? Hast thou not known, hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? There is no searching of His understanding."

The knowledge of the true God, which the Israelites and Jews were instrumental in preserving amidst the darkness and error of the heathen world, was sufficient to inspire them with gratitude for the superior light which they possessed. When they looked abroad upon the wide creation, the heavens above, with their rich garniture; the earth beneath, with its out-stretched plains and everlasting hills; the great and wide sea, with leviathans playing therein, besides creeping things innumerable;—when they considered all this fair creation as the work and the domain of an infinite and eternal Being, and saw around them the nations bowing down to stocks and stones, worshipping the unreflecting brute animals, or adoring the unconscious luminaries of heaven, they could not fail to be impressed with a sense of the surpassing glory of that God which they were privileged to know and worship.

But, without the contrast which enabled the sincere Israelite to exalt his views of the Divine Majesty, the immensity of creation must call up in every devout mind some of the loftiest conceptions of the wisdom and power of God, and some of the most reverential feelings which can be directed to Him. How great must be that Being who framed the universe! Yet great and marvellous as the material universe is, it is but the outwork of His creation,—the lowest and humblest part of His dominions,—the angelic heaven being as His regal throne, high and lifted up, compared with which the earth-the whole material universe-is but His footstool. And great as these are, they are yet finite; while He who made them is Infinite, between whom and His works, inconceivably immense and glorious as they are, there is no proportion. "The nations are as nothing before Him; He taketh up the isles as a very little thing. He measures the water in the hollow of His hand, and meteth out heaven with the span, and comprehendeth the dust of the earth in a measure, and weigheth

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SUITED TO THE CHARACTER OF THE SUBJECT.

459

the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance." Considered only as figurative, this language conveys an idea sufficiently expressive of the nothingness of creation, great as it undoubtedly is, compared with the infinity of the Creator. But the figures are not introduced merely to heighten the subject. The Word of God, even on the higbest subjects, expressed in the most impassioned or figurative language, does not contain an expression which has not a precise and suitable spiritual meaning. In virtue of their inspiration, the words, though taken from the finite mind of the prophet, are the clothing of ideas descending into them

from the infinite mind of God. These ideas, in their origin divine, and in their heavenly manifestation spiritual and celestial, are equally in every part of the Word, whether it be plain or figurative in its natural expression; but the spiritual ideas it contains relate to spiritual subjects.

Before we can see the fitness of the spiritual sense of the words of Divine Inspiration, we must see the proper subject to which they relate. The literal sense of the passage we last quoted relates to this material world, and conveys a general idea and impression of the greatness of the Being by whom it was created. But the spiritual sense relates to the spiritual world, or to God's spiritual creation, and is expressive of the goodness and wisdom of the Lord, as manifested in His works of redemption and salvation. The context itself leads to this conclusion. Redemption is the theme of the prophet in the previous part of the chapter. "Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God; speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem. The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God! O Zion, that bringest good tidings, get thee up into the high mountain; lift up thy voice with strength: lift it up, be not afraid; say unto the cities of Judah, Behold your God!"

Although there may not be a necessary, there appears a natural connection between those passages of the inspired Word; and this connection will not appear forced to those who know that the whole Word, in its inmost sense, relates to the Lord and His work in the flesh. The nature and effects of redemption are frequently described in the language of analogy or correspondence, the earth and the heaven being symbols of the church in the natural and spiritual worlds. Redemption was a work which had relation to both worlds. It consisted essentially in introducing order into the spiritual things of both worlds. It restored the balance or equilibrium between heaven and hell, on which the freedom of the human will depends, and which is necessary to salvation. The equilibrium of heaven and hell in the spiritual world is also necessary to the existence of an equilibrium between good and evil in the