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DISCOURSES.

ON THE NATURE OF RELIGION.

I.

SPIRITUAL INTERESTS REAL AND SUPREME.

LABOUR NOT FOR THE MEAT THAT PERISHETH, BUT FOR THAT MEAT WHICH ENDURETH UNTO EVERLASTING LIFE. John vi. 27.

THE interests of the mind and heart, spiritual interests, in other words the interests involved in religion, are real and supreme. Neglected, disregarded, ridiculed, ruined as they may be; ruined as they may be in mere folly, in mere scorn; they are still real and supreme. Notwithstanding all appearances, delusions, fashions and opinions to the contrary, this is true, and will be true forever. All essential interests centre ultimately in the soul; all that do not centre there, are circumstantial, transitory, evanescent; they belong to things that perish.

This is what I have endeavoured to show in a previous discourse, and for this purpose I have appealed in the first place, to Society.

My second appeal is to Providence; Society, indeed, is a part of the system of Providence; but let me invite you to consider under this head, that the interest

of the soul urged in the Gospel, is in every respect, the great object of heaven's care and providence.

The world, which is appointed for our temporary dwelling place, was made for this end. The whole creation around us, is to the soul, a subject and a ministering creation. The mighty globe itself, with all its glorious apparatus and furniture, is but a theatre for the care of the soul, the theatre of its redemption. This vast universe is but a means. But look at the earth alone. Why was it made such as it is? Its fruitful soils, its rich valleys, its mountain-tops, and its rolling oceans; its humbler scenes, clothed with beauty and light, good even in the sight of their Maker, fair -fair to mortal eyes-why were they given? They were not given for mere sustenance and supply; for much less would have sufficed for that end. They need not have been so beautiful to have answered that end. They could have spared their verdure and flowers and fragrance, and still have yielded sustenance. The groves might never have waved in the breeze, but have stood in the rigidity of an iron forest; the hills might not have been moulded into forms of beauty, the streams might not have sparkled in their course, nor the ocean have reflected the blue depths of heaven, and yet they might have furnished all needful sustenance. No, they were not given for this alone: but they were given to nourish and kindle in the human soul, a glory and a beauty, of which all outward grandeur and loveliness are but the image. They were given to show forth the majesty and love of God, and to form in man a resemblance to that majesty and love. Think then, of a being in such a position and with such a ministry, made to be the intelligent companion of God's glorious works, the interpreter of nature, the Lord of the creation-made to be the ser

vant of God alone. And yet this being-Oh! miserable disappointment and failure !-makes himself the slave of circumstances, the slave of outward goods and advantages, the slave of everything that he ought to command.

I know that he must toil and care for these things. But wherefore? Why must he toil and care? For a reason, I answer, which still urges upon him the very point we are considering. It had been as easy for the Almighty to have caused nature spontaneously to bring forth all that man needs, to have built as a part of the frame of the earth, enduring houses for us to dwell in, to have filled them with all requisite comforts, and to have relieved us, in short, from the necessity of labour and business. Why has he not done this? Still, I answer, for the same cause, with the same moral design, as that with which the world was made. Activity is designed for mental improvement; industry for moral discipline; business for the cultivation of manly and high and noble virtues. When, therefore, a man enters into the active pursuits of life, though he pleads the cares of business as an excuse for his neglect, yet it is then especially, and that by the very teaching of Providence, that he should be reminded of his spiritual welfare. He could not with safety, to his moral being, be turned full and free into the domain of nature. He goes forth, therefore, bearing burdens of care, and wearing the shackles of necessity. The arm that he stretches out to his toil, wears a chain; for he must work. And on the tablet where immortal thoughts are to be written, he writes words of worldly care and foresight; for he must provide. And yet, how strange and passing strange is it!-the occupations and objects that were given for discipline, and the trial of the spirit, and the training of it to virtue, are made the

ultimate end and the chief good; yes, these which were designed for humble means of good to the soul, are made the engrossing pursuits, the absorbing pleasures and possessions, in which the soul itself is forgotten and lost!

Thus spiritual, in its design, is nature. Thus spiritual, in its just aspects, is the scene of life; no dull scene when rightly regarded; no merely wearisome, uncompensated toil, or perplexing business; but a ministration to purposes of infinite greatness and sublimity.

We are speaking of human interests. God also looks upon the interest of his creatures. But he seeth not as man seeth. Man looketh on the outward appearance; but God looketh on the heart. He sees that all human interests centre there. He sees there, the gathering, the embosoming, the garnering up, of all that is precious to an immortal creature. Therefore, it is, that as the strongest proof of his love to the world, he gave his Son to live for our teaching and guidance, and to die for our redemption from sin and death and hell. Every bright example, every pure doctrine, every encouraging promise, every bitter pang endured, points to the soul, for its great design and end. And let me say that if I have seemed to any one to speak in language over refined or spiritual, I can no otherwise understand the teachings of the great Master. His words would often be mystery and extravagance to me, if I did not feel, that the soul is everything, and that the world is nothing but what it is to the soul. With this perception of the true value of things, I require no transcendental piety, I require nothing but clear seeing, to understand what he says, when he pronounces men to be deaf, and blind, and diseased and dead in sins. For to give up the joys of

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