gracious power! May it lead us in the true, the firm, the brightening path of the just, till it brings us to the perfect day!

Oh! my brethren, we sin against our own peace, we have no mercy upon ourselves, when we neglect such a religion as this. It is the only wisdom, the only soundness, the only consistency and harmony of character, the only peace and blessedness of mind. We should not have our distressing doubts and fears; we should not be so subject as we are to the distracting influences of passion, or of the world without us, if we had yielded our hearts wholly to the spirit and religion of Jesus. It is a religion adapted to us all. To every affection, to every state of mind, troubled or joyous, to every period of life, it would impart the very influence that we need. How surely would it guide our youth, and how would it temper, and soften, and sanctify all the fervors of youthful affection! How well would it support our age, making it youthful again with the fervent hope of immortality! How would it lead us, too, in all the paths of earthly care, and business, and labour, turning the brief and weary courses of worldly toil into the ways that are everlasting! How faithfully and how calmly would it conduct us to the everlasting abodes! And how well, in fine, does he, of whom it was prophesied that he should not break the bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax-how well does he meet that gracious character, when he says,-shall we not listen to him?—"come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest: take my yoke which is easy, and my burden, which is light; learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls."

74

DISCOURSE V.

THE APPEAL OF RELIGION TO HUMAN NATURE.

PROVERBS, VIII. 4. UNTO YOU, O MEN, I CALL; AND MY

VOICE IS TO THE SONS OF MEN.

THE appeal of religion to human nature, the deep wisdom of its instructions to the human heart, the language of power and of cheering with which it is fitted. to address the inmost soul of man, is never to be understood, perhaps, till our nature is exalted far beyond its present measure. When the voice of wisdom and purity shall find an inward wisdom and purity to which it can speak, it will be received with a welcome and gladness, with a joy beyond all other joy, such as no tongue of eloquence has ever expressed, nor the heart of worldly sensibility ever yet conceived. It is, therefore, with the most unfeigned diffidence, with the most distinct consciousness that my present labour must be incipient and imperfect, that I enter upon this great theme-the appeal of religion to human nature.

What ought it to be? What has it been? These are the inquiries which I shall pursue. Nor shall J attempt to keep them altogether separate in the discussion; since, both the defects and the duties of religious instruction may often be best exhibited under the same head of discourse. Neither shall I labour to

speak of religion under that abstract and figurative character with which wisdom is personified in the context, though that may be occasionally convenient; but whether it be the language of individual reason, or conscience; whether it be the voice of the parent, or of the preacher; whether it be the language of forms or of institutions, I would consider how religion has appealed, and how it ought to have appealed, to human nature.

The topics of discourse, under which I shall pursue these inquiries, are the following-in what character should religion address us?—to what in us should it speak? and how should it deliver its message? That is to say-the substance, the subject, and the spirit of the appeal, are the topics of our inquiry. I cannot, of course, pursue these inquiries beyond the point to which the immediate object of my discourse, will carry them; and I am willing to designate that point, at once, by saying, that, the questions are, whether the character in which religion is to appeal to us, be moral, or not; whether that in us to which it chiefly appeals should be the noblest or the basest part of our nature; and finally, whether the manner and spirit of its appeal should be that of confidence or distrust, of friendship or hatred.

I. And with regard to the first question, the answer, of course, is, that the character in which religion should address us is purely moral. As a moral principle, as a principle of rectitude, it must speak to us. Institutions, rites, commands, threatenings, promises-all forms of appeal must contain this essence; they must be moral; they must be holy.

It may be thought strange that I should insist upon

a point so obvious, but let me crave your patience. What is the centre, the first principle, the essence, of all that is moral, of all that is holy? I answer, it is goodness. This is the primary element of all virtue. Excellence, rectitude, righteousness, every virtue, every grace, is but a modification of the one, essential, all-embracing principle of love. This is strictly, metaphysically true; it is the result of the most severe, philosophical, analysis. It is also the truth of scripture. The character of Supreme perfection is summed up in this one attribute: "God is love." This is the very glory of God. For when an ancient servant desired to" see his glory," the answer to the prayer was, that "he caused all his goodness to pass before him."

The character, then, in which religion should appeal to human nature, is that of simple and essential goodness. This, the moral nature of man is made to understand and to feel; and nothing else but this. This character, doubtless, has various expressions. Sometimes it takes the forms of command and threatening; but still these must speak, in the name of goodness. If command and threatening stand up to speak for themselves-alone-dissociated from that love which gives them all their moral character-then, 1 say, that the moral nature of man cannot receive their message. A brute can receive that; a dog or a horse can yield to mere command or menace. But the moral nature can yield to nothing which is not moral; and that which gives morality to every precept and warning is the goodness which is breathed into them. Divest them of this, and they are not even religious. Nor are those persons religious, who pay obedience to

command, as command, and without any consideration of its moral nature, of the intrinsic and essential sanction which goodness bestows on the command.

The voice of religion, then, must be as the voice of goodness. Conceive of every thing good and lovely, of every thing morally excellent and admirable, of every thing glorious and godlike, and when these speak to you, know that religion speaks to you. Whether that voice comes from the page of genius, or from the record of heroic and heavenly virtue, or from its living presence and example, or from the bosom of silent reverie, the innermost sanctuary of meditationwhatever of holy and beautiful speaks to you, and through what medium soever, it comes, it is the voice of religion. All excellence, in other words, is religion. But here we meet with what seems to me, and so must I denominate it, in justice to my own apprehensions, a stupendous error; an error, prevalent, I believe, and yet fatal, so far as it goes, to all religious emotion. All excellence, I said, is religion. But the great error is, that, in the popular apprehension, these things are not identified. In other words, religion and goodness are not identified in the general mind: they are not held by most men to be the same thing. This error, I say, if it exist, is fatal to genuine religious emotion, because men cannot heartily love, as a moral quality, any thing which is not, to them, goodness. Or, to state this position as a simple truism, they cannot love any thing which is not, to them, loveliness.

Now I am willing, nay, I earnestly wish, that with regard to the real nature of religion, there should be the utmost discrimination; and I will soon speak to