of it, which do not, in the slightest degree, impair its vitality and power as a principle of conduct. And I now proceed to advert, as was proposed, to some of those circumstances which have conspired to give our views of Christian truth an appearance, I say an appearance, of being speculative, cold, and inoperative upon the affec

tions.

One of the circumstances, which has had, as is be lieved, this effect, is the manner in which they have sometimes been inculcated. I would speak with a becoming diffidence on this subject, and as one who claims no exemption from what he cannot but think is a faulty method of enforcing the claims of any religion. Our views, then, of Christianity, it is apprehended, have been but too often presented in a manner cold, formal, and didactic; as if they were mere truths in moral philosophy; as if it were enough to make men Christians, to convince them that it is wise and expedient to become Christians; as if the reasoning head were alone to be consulted, and not the believing heart; as if the affections were not necessary to impart life and vigor to our convictions. In those topics, by which the will is to be influenced as well as the mind instructed; where information is not so necessary as persuasion; where impression is more important than conviction; where the infinite fallacies of selfdeceit are to be detected; the moral infirmities of men probed; a stubborn worldliness to be broken; the iron chains of habits to be rent asunder; the palsied conscience to be quickened; where, in a word, light is to be thrown in upon the dark concealments of self-love, and the heart is to be touched and the deeper feelings interested; mere abstract speculations, however elegant, refined, or just, are frigid, ill-adapted and unaffecting.

We want something which bears more the stamp of reality; something which is less staid and official; something, too, more distinct, more direct, close and plain-spoken; something to assure us that we are the persons addressed; we are the persons interested; something to convince us that we are not listening to a discourse on abstract questions in morals, but to the gospel of Jesus Christ; a gospel enforced by all that a rational being can hope or fear; a gospel addressed to us individually, and which we are to receive or reject at our own personal peril.

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There is a manner of writing, too, which is, in itself, unexceptionable, and yet utterly bad as a means of persuasion. A composition may be faultless, saving only that it is without force. It is possible to fill up the time with a sermon, which shall have proper words in proper places," which shall exhibit, throughout, a high literary finish, and be illustrated, moreover, with fine and tasteful imagery; but which, after all, will be, so far as respects the legitimate objects of preaching, less affecting than the wild strains of fanaticism, as powerless as the prattle of a child. Great results are sacrificed in a studied attention to details; powerful impression, in a pursuit of the minor graces of diction; the benefit of the many, in an excessive deference to the refined tastes of a few. Anything, almost, that has pith and point is better than this sentence-making, this tame and lifeless rhetoric. The great, the noble, the commanding aim of the speaker, should ever be kept in view; and this is not the amusement, not the gratification of his hearers; still less their admiration of himself; but their conviction, their persuasion; it is to stamp deeply and irresistibly on their minds the impress of his own. "I would rather," says St Paul, speak five words with my understanding, that by my

voice I might teach others also, than ten thousand words in an unknown tongue." And how much better, in point of effect, are those words which only play over the surface of the mind, than those in an unknown tongue? Nor will the preacher, who feels the true dignity of his office, freeze his words as they fall from his lips, by his own apparent indifference to their import, or permit them to vibrate in a sleepy cadence, or to sink into a drowsy monotony. Nor when he speaks of themes that should strike and rouse the soul, will he speak as if he were performing a set task, but as if he were moved by a strong impulse to speak. He will endeavor to feel as well as to understand the truths he utters, feel them in their full import, feel too the responsibleness under which he is acting. Let him but gain this intimate apprehension of important truth, this real, this intense feeling of his subject; let him forget himself and all things else in the enforcement of his theme, and he need not ask for any other eloquence. He may forego, as secondary things, without a sigh or a care, all mere outside accomplishments, all mere graces of manner. He may be sure that he will not speak to dull and inapprehensive ears. The divine light within will irradiate his countenance; his whole manner will be imbued with a solemn, tender, affecting earnestness; his appeals will go like lightning to the souls of men, and penetrate to their very core. is the foundation of true eloquence; this is the fountain of sympathy; this puts words of persuasion on the tongue; this gives the accents that tone of reality which was never yet mistaken; this is the Divinity which speaks within; this the voice of power, in mortal man, which none can withstand.

This

There are obvious causes for the adoption of the manner of inculcating our system of faith, which I have ventured to call in question, and which leave entirely untouched the entire seriousness and engagedness of its advocates. This system is primarily addressed to the understanding, and it is probable that a conviction of this. fact has prevented more direct addresses to the affections, and rendered the whole tone calm and subdued. In making the argument conclusive, it is often forgotten that the moving principle of the great mass of men is not so much abstract truth as strong sentiment. An abhorrence also of all fanaticism and extravagance, by a natural reaction, may have led to the opposite extreme of naked rationality and apparent indifference. There is often, too, perceived in men of sensitive natures that "faulty bashfulness," spoken of by one of the best of the English essayists, which, in an over-deference to the opinions of the audience, forgets a just respect for the truths they are about to deliver. But whatever the causes of this manner of communicating religious truth may be, the effect is certainly to be deprecated. Until the world becomes. more intellectual than it now is, cold, dead words, though instinct with oracular wisdom, will fall, like snow-flakes on frozen ground, upon cold, dead hearts. Men wish to see, and have a right to expect, a correspondence between what is said and what is felt. And if they do not, they will be apt to infer that what drops so lifelessly from lifeless tongues, does not, in itself, possess much vitality or power. Now to apply these remarks to the precise object for which they were introduced, it is evident, that in whatever degree this apparent want of directness, interest, and fervor pervades the inculcation of our views of

Christianity, in the same degree will it be charged upon the views themselves. That there is no foundation, in point of fact, for this, will, I trust, appear in the sequel of the discourse.

Another circumstance which has given an appearance of coldness to our system of faith is, that it is professedly rational. By this is meant, that we endeavor to interpret the revelation of God, in the gospel of his Son, by the aid of those powers which belong to us as rational beings. We do not believe that these powers are superseded by a supernatural, uncontrollable influence; an influence imparted to some and withholden from others, upon no known and determinate law; and depending wholly on the arbitrary will of the common Father of mankind. Such a belief must necessarily inspire those who adopt it with an excessive fervency of spirit. But a faith which does not permit us to consider ourselves the especial favorites of Almighty God, and is ascertained by our rational faculties, assisted by his good spirit and revealed word, will naturally produce a more modified and guarded zeal; a zeal which is controlled by a reference to every personal and social duty, and devoted to appropriate objects, at fitting times, in a proper degree. Its first object will always be self-improvement, and next, the improvement of others; but always with an entire respect and deference to their character, condition, feelings, and rights. will never seek to make a convert for the sake of making a convert, but from an earnest desire of making him a better, and therefore a happier man. It will regard an attention to any of the means of religion, which are incompatible with a due performance of important personal or relative duty, as a desertion of a greater duty for a less. It is obvious that a zeal like this will be compara

It