INTRODUCTION.

THE present work first appeared in 1847 as a pamphlet, and attracted considerable attention. It has for some time been out of print, and as it continues in demand, I have been led by circumstances to enlarge it in the present edition. As the investigation contained in it is of great extent, and embraces a consideration of the present religious creeds of Europe, I shall introduce it by a brief notice of the incidents which led me to take an interest in the subject. By pursuing this course, I shall be under the necessity of introducing a portion of my personal history-which may expose me to the charge of vanity and egotism; but on the other hand, the narrative will shew that the questions here discussed have long formed topics of earnest and serious consideration in my mind, and that the views now advanced are brought forward in no light spirit, but are founded on deep and solemn convictions.

An event so common and trivial as almost to appear ludicrous when introduced into a grave discourse, but which is real, gave rise to the train of thought which is developed in this work. When a child of six or seven years of age, some benevolent friend bestowed on me a lump of sugar-candy. The nursery-maid desired me to give a share of it to my younger brothers and sisters, and I presented it to her to be disposed of as she recommended. She gave each of them a portion, and when she returned the remainder to me, she said, "That's a good boy-God will reward you for this." These words were uttered by her as a mere form of pious speech, proper to be addressed to a child; but they conveyed to my mind an idea;—they suggested intelligibly and practically, for the first time, the conception of a Divine reward for a kind action; and I in

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stantly put the question to her, "How will God reward me ?" "He will send you everything that is good." "What do you mean by 'good'-Will he send me more sugar-candy?" "Yes -certainly he will, if you are a good boy." "Will he make this piece of sugar-candy grow bigger ?" "Yes-God always

rewards those who are kind-hearted."

I could not rest contented with words, but at once proceeded to the verification of the assurance by experiment and observation. I forthwith examined minutely all the edges of the remaining portion of sugar-candy, took an account of its dimensions, and then, wrapping it carefully in paper, put it into a drawer, and waited with anxiety for its increase. I left it in the drawer all night, and next morning examined it with eager curiosity. I could discover no trace of alteration in its size, either of increase or decrease. I was greatly disappointed; my faith in the reward of virtue by the Ruler of the world received its first shock, and I feared that God did not govern the world in the manner which the nursery-maid had represented.

Several years afterwards, I read in the Grammatical Exercises, an early class-book then used in the High School of Edinburgh, these words: "Deus gubernat mundum," "God governs the world." "Mundus gubernatur a Deo," "The world is governed by God." These sentences were introduced into the book as exercises in Latin grammar; and our teacher, the late Mr Luke Fraser, dealt with them merely as such, without entering into any consideration of the ideas embodied in them.

This must have occurred about the year 1798, when I was ten years of age; and the words "Deus gubernat mundumMundus gubernatur a Deo," made an indelible impression, and continued for years and years to haunt my imagination. As a child, I assumed the fact itself to be an indubitable truth, but felt a restless curiosity to discover how God exercises his jurisdiction.

Some time afterwards, I read in the Edinburgh Advertiser, that Napoleon Buonaparte (instigated and assisted, as I used to hear, by the devil) governed France, and governed it very wickedly; and that King George III., Mr Pitt, and Lord Melville, governed Great Britain and Ireland-not very successfully either, for I read of rebellion, and murders, and burnings,

and executions in Ireland; while in Scotland my father complained of enormous Excise duties which threatened to involve him in ruin. I saw that my father ruled in his trade, and my mother in her household affairs, both pretty well on the whole; but with such evident marks of imperfection, that it was impossible to trace God's superintendence or direction in their administration.

In the class in the High School of which I was a member, Mr Luke Fraser seemed to me to reign supreme; and as I felt his government to be harsh, and often unjust, I could not recognise God in it either. Under his tuition, and that of Dr Adam, the Rector of the High School, and of Dr John Hill, the Professor of Latin in the University of Edinburgh, I became acquainted with the literature, the mythology, and the history of Greece and Rome; but in these no traces of the Divine government of the world were discernible.

These were the only governments of which I then had experience, or about which I could obtain any information; and in none of them could I discover satisfactory evidence of God's interference in the affairs of men. On the contrary, it appeared to me, that one and all of the historical personages before named did just what they pleased, and that God took no account of their actions in this world, however He might deal with them in the next. They all seemed to acknowledge in words that God governs the world; but, nevertheless, they appeared to me to act as if they were themselves independent and irresponsible governors, consulting only their own notions of what was right or wrong, and often pursuing what they considered to be their own interests, irrespective of God's asserted supremacy in human affairs. Most of them professed to believe in their accountability in the next world; but this belief seemed to me like a rope of sand in binding their consciences. They rarely hesitated to encounter all the dangers of that judgment when their worldly interests or passions strongly solicited them to a course of action condemned by their professed creeds.

From infancy I attended regularly an evangelical church, was early instructed in the Bible, and in the Shorter and Larger Catechisms, and the Confession of Faith of the Assembly of Divines at Westminster; and read orthodox sermons

and treatises by various distinguished authors. In the Old Testament there were narratives of God's government of the Jewish nation, by the exercise of special acts of supernatural power, and I understood this as a clear and satisfactory exposition of Divine government. In the New Testament, also, certain special acts of Divine interference with the affairs of men were recorded, which likewise gave me great satisfaction, as evidences that God governs the world; but I never could apply these examples to practical purposes.

I learned, in some way which I do not now recollect, that during many ages after the close of the Scripture records, the Roman Catholic priesthood had asserted that such acts of special supernatural administration continued, and that they themselves were the appointed instruments through whose medium it pleased God thus to manifest his power. But I never saw instances of this kind of government in my own sphere of life.

In the course of time I read arguments and criticisms which carried with them an irresistible conviction, that these pretensions of the Roman Catholic priesthood had been pious frauds practised on an ignorant and superstitious people. Here, then, was another shock to my belief that God governs the world; and the difficulty was increased by an obscure impression, that notwithstanding this denial by the Protestant divines, of the continuance of a special supernatural Providence acting through the Roman Catholic priesthood, they and their followers seemed to admit something very similar in their own favour.* As however, I could not discover, by observation, satisfactory evidence of special acts of Divine interference in human affairs, taking place in consequence of their solicitations, any more than in consequence of those of the Roman Catholic priesthood, I arrived at the conclusion that all special acts of Divine administration had ceased with the Scripture times; and thus I was again sent adrift into the great ocean of doubt, and no longer saw traces of the manner in which God governs the world in our day, whatever He might have done in the days of the Jewish nation.

As I advanced in understanding, my theological studies

*See examples in Ioint in Chapter I.

rather increased than diminished these perplexities. I read that "not a sparrow falls to the ground without our heavenly Father," and that "the very hairs of our heads are numbered;" which seemed to indicate a very intimate and minute government of the world. But, simultaneously with this information, I was taught that God forgives those who offend against his laws, if they have faith in Jesus Christ and repent; and that He often leaves the wicked to run the course of their sins in this world without punishing them, reserving his retribution for the day of judgment. This seemed to me to imply that God really does not govern the world in any intelligible or practical sense, but merely takes note of men's actions, and commences his actual and efficient government only after the resurrection from the dead.

During the time these speculations engaged my attention, my mind opened to the import of the Calvinistic theology which had formed the staple of my religious instruction. I was taught to repeat the Catechism from which an extract is given on page 186, and I attended regularly a church in which Calvinism was preached by one of the ministers, in a form which, to me, was very terrible. Conscious of being no better than my fellow-creatures, I could discover no reason why, if any were to be passed over to the left hand at the day of judg ment, I should not be one of the number. The narrative of the sufferings and death of Jesus Christ, excited in me only strong feelings of compassion for Him, and of indignation against his persecutors. I was overwhelmed by the terrors of a future judgment, and wished myself an inferior animal without a soul. So deep and habitual was the gloomy impression, that summer was rendered appalling by the prospect of thunder storms, in one of which I might be struck instantaneously dead and precipitated in a moment into everlasting misery. In the autumn evenings, I used to climb high up on the rocks of Edinburgh Castle, which overhung my father's house, and gaze with intense interest on "The Evening Star," or planet, that shone with resplendent brilliancy in the wake of the departed sun; I longed to see into its internal economy, and thought: "Oh! could I but discover that summer and winter, heat and cold, life and death, prevail in you as they do here, how happy should I be! I should then believe that this world