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Lord showed to Moses "all the land of Gilead, unto Dan, and all Naphtali, and the land of Ephraim, and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah, unto the utmost sea, and the south, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, the city of palm-trees, unto Zoar." (Deut. 34: 1–3.) And as all the possessions of the tribes of Israel were thus pointed out, so all the goods and truths of the church are thus frequently depicted to the eye of the believer, and in this state of elevation of the understanding above the will, the prospect is refreshing indeed. How much does it include! "This," says the Lord, "is the land which I sware unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, saying, I will give it to thy seed." (v. 4.) Every possible good and truth which can enrich the celestial, spiritual, and natural departments of the human mind, - this is the prospect which appears from the mountain top; · "I have caused thee to see it with thine eyes,

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but thou shalt not go over thither."

How often is it verified in the mind of the believer! There is many a Pisgah - many a Nebo, visited by the enthusiastic admirer of spiritual truths, especially such truths as are now revealed for the New Jerusalem and it is a part of the dispensations of Mercy, that we should thus be capable of interior elevation even above what we find it possible to practice. It is a peculiarity of life introduced into human capacity after the Fall. Before that, the men of the first church, according to Swedenborg, received divine truths by an internal way, into the good of their will, and through that into the truth of the understanding; and whatever was thus received was immediately reduced to life and practice. Hence they received no more truth than what was united with the good that was in them. Such continued to be the state of man till the period of his fall, when the will, in process of time, became so corrupted with evil, that if divine truth had any longer been inseminated in this way, it also would have become utterly corrupted, and his salvation made impossible. He would have perished from the earth. To prevent this catastrophe, a new church or state of

humanity was instituted with the posterity of Noah; and it was providentially ordained that the will principle should thenceforth be separate from the intellectual, and that man should no longer be reformed and regenerated by the reception of good immediately into the will, and thence truth also, but should receive truth first into the understanding, by which the will might be rectified, and regeneration effected. This is the state of the world now; we are led to good by truth, and not vice versa; hence the remarkable power of seeing so much more truth than is generally reduced to life and practice. It is a provision of the Divine Mercy. If we could not, by some effort of the intellect, lift ourselves above all that pertains to the will, we should not, in our present corrupt state, see enough of the truth to enlighten the dark and deep recesses of the depraved soul, and to save ourselves from imminent destruction. Therefore it is that the spectacle is so frequently presented, of a man well stored and furnished with all the principles of a correct life; with an intellect of shining and brilliant qualities; who can even understand the most divine truths, and take delight in their promulgation and defence; and yet whose life is a sad comment on the influence of those truths to bend the will, or soften the asperities of the natural man. He is indeed like a traveller over mountain heights. And if he be a man of taste and imagination, how well does the experience which he then undergoes illustrate the phenomena of such spiritual quickenings! He may not only see, but feel strongly, and be entirely overcome by the excitement and power of the occasion. There is not, perhaps, a better illustration of the subject in hand. He may give way, for the time being, even to religious feelings, and realize within him all the glow of a most rapturous adorer. Powerful feeling is frequently produced by the survey of some vast field of natural scenery. Suppose, for instance, the man really stands upon some conspicuous mountain of the earth; and as he views outstretched before him the prospect of an almost boundless vision; as he stands in the centre of a hori

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zon embracing earth, and sea, and sky, and all the picturesque and surpassing beauties of Nature in her grandest attire ;here, for miles around him, a connection of cultivated fields and waving harvests ready for the reaper's hand; there the towering hills and loftier mountains of a more distant scene ;— and the thousand-fold area of diversified land, and flowing streams, and scattered towns and villages, with the spires of still more distant cities enriching and giving interest to the whole prospect; when all this enters the mind, and impresses itself upon the still more imaginative faculties, how common it is to feel one's self elated, and carried away with a rapture of profound and religious contemplation. The man finds awakened in him susceptibilities which make him almost feel that he is equal to the prospect before him. He feels truly religious. He cannot look upon such a scene, and feel no rising emotions to Nature's God. And he makes use of the occasion, perhaps, for new and more profitable reflections. He carries it all to the more sacred retreat of his own soul, and secretly resolves to live, henceforth, in accordance with a nature more sublimely grand than all the materialism which is thus lighted up in glory around him.

But he descends from the mountain, and meets with his fellows who live in the plain. Alas! how often is it that the descent is made spiritually as well as naturally, and, the sight out of mind, out of mind also all the high feelings and lofty thoughts which have been inspired by the scene. He descends to the plain level of the natural man. He mixes with all the frivolities of a world lying in wickedness, and instead of a survey from the top of a mountain, his understanding has fallen, and his will has fallen, into the dark and narrow boundaries of sensual indulgence, and the dwellings of the unclean.

So it is with many a beholder of the spiritual truths of the New Jerusalem. A vast field of vision is opened to us here. Indeed, there is nothing equal to it. By this capacity in some men of fine parts, of the elevation of the understanding above the will, one may stand upon an eminence of all-commanding

survey. Oh, how great it is!—and as he looks with mental eye upon the spiritual prospect spread out before him, the vast realities of the eternal world,—the glories of heaven far above him, and the deeps of hell beneath him,-the far-off mansions of the eternal city, the green pastures, the still waters, the fields and paradises more real and more substantial than all the solid materialism of the world, -the fruits of every month which hang upon the trees of life of every heavenly inhabitant; -and as the songs and rejoicings of that world come even now to his spiritual ear, and he realizes that all this is or may be for him, and such as him, truly it would be difficult not to feel strong emotions rising within the breast, which might convince a man that he was far, very far, from that thorough depravity which preys through all the natural mind. And besides all this, there is the whole system of doctrinal truths presented for a refreshment to the understanding. And if he be a man capable of appreciating consistency, or revelling in the midst of mental beauty, then I know not of a richer banquet that can be spread to the intellect, than the treasure-house of such truth affords. For there never was so sublime a philosophy, and never such thorough satisfaction to all the hitherto divided faculties of the human mind. What, indeed, are all the philosophies, from Plato down to the last improvements of unaided human science, compared with the clear, analytical and synthetical presentations of the illuminated Swedenborg? Now, all this is augmented a thousand-fold by being pressed into the service of religion,-by being sustained and systematized by the Word of God,-by being supported by so many consentaneous and minute particulars, and by being in every way such as to enlist the whole man-affection, imagination, thought and all, in the most stupendous and consistent system ever presented to the human mind. Is it marvel that many any are captivated? Were it not for the greatness of the theme, and the life that it requires, would there not be ten thousand more? These indeed are the Pisgah heights of the New Jeru

salem. Whether or not we have adopted all the truths of this spiritual church, these are the heights over which the intellect must frequently travel. It is here that we are led by the Divine Providence, that from such an elevation we may view the country that stretches far into the promised land,—a land flowing with milk and honey, but which none but the faithful, like Caleb and Joshua, are ever permitted to enter. We cannot be too thankful even for the sight of such a land. How stimulating it is, or may be, to all good endeavor! What a prize for the ambition of immortal spirits! And in our sins and defilements too, to be able thus, not only to form a mere ideal, a sentiment, but to catch an intellectual view of so divinely authorized a prospect, and hold it steadily to the mind, -how should it affect us in all our trials, in all our disappointments, and our labors of love for one another! Oh, it were a pity that we should be transported to the mountain tops only to die there;-to see the glorious country beyond, and not to go over thither. And yet if it be all that we can attain to in this part of our pilgrimage, well were it still that we should die at one hundred and twenty years, like the patriarch before us, with the "eye not dim, nor the natural force abated.” (Deut. 34: 7.) For in this is contained a spiritual promise and prophecy, that if we do not abuse the knowledge we possess, even if we do not fully use it, the life that remains in us will be quickened and animated beyond the grave, and lead to the Canaan of heavenly rest. Yet often, even in this life, we have to descend from this Pisgah of faith and intellect, to fight with the enemies that dwell in the plain. We deceive ourselves with the mountain view, and are only brought to our senses again by the sad reality of so much to do before we can over thither."

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