the stress we lay on them, in reference to their place both in the system of truth and in the formation of character-our conscience respecting such points-our separation from other Christians on their account and for their sake. All this is unpleasing to the freethinking habits of the working classes. They think themselves superior to it, and more free and impartial in their judgments. They contemn us as sectarian and narrow in such convictions. They have caught this supercilious superiority to any serious judgment of the excellence and importance of some doctrines over others, from the tone of speakers in Parliament, and writers on politics, as well as from mere avowed unbelievers. A taste has been thus formed in them, to which our zeal for opinions is most repulsive. No less is our exclusively religious character repugnant to them. In our public services, in our church proceedings, and in our general activities, we still cleave to a strictly spiritual dispensation. If we discourse or act at all on any political subject, we do it religiously, and regard the matter only as it touches religion. If we mingle in any literary or scientific associations, the same view to religion is apparent; when we handle such topics, or unite in such institutes, it is seen that we cannot put out of view our highest and special object. We must at least tinge everything we touch with this mixture. No less is this peculiarity apparent in our movements for Education and general Charity. We cannot establish a daily school, or join a sick or clothing society, but we must turn the opportunity to religious account. This is plainly discerned by the working classes, but it is not justly appreciated. It is not attributed to honest and loving fervour. It is ascribed to sectarianism, not to benevolence. We are thought to be at work for our party, not for their souls. They think we would get them to chapel, not that we would conduct them to heaven. Our good is evil thought of. What ought to attract, in fact, repels.

Further. The working of our church system casts itself too much into an aristocratic mould to present a pleasing aspect to the working classes. The constitution of our churches is as truly as it is avowedly democratic; but the action of a sound democracy will always work to produce a necessary and useful aristocracy. The unbiassed suffrages of an enlightened constituency secure of its privileges, and using them only for the

common good, will uniformly place the best qualified men in office and authority. Thus it is in our churches. Social position is one qualification for office in every society. This is the dictate of common sense, and the lesson of all experience. Possessions must always form an element of confidence, and therefore of influence. Thus it comes to pass among us. Brethren who add to those qualifications for usefulness which are of a mental and religious nature, such also as arise from position and substance, are preferred for office in our churches. This is so general a practice, that exceptions do but prove it the rule. Nor is management either employed, or necessary, to secure this really desirable result: it arises from the common and prevailing sentiment of all classes among us. Unusual merit in humble life is not excluded by it from honourable service with us; but, other things being equal, station determines the preference. Now this is very distasteful to a class fretting against exclusions, jealous of all the advantages ceded to the possessors of property, and anxious to remove all social distinctions not based on personal pretensions. They turn from the world to the church, and think they see operating, in sacred relations, the same inequalities they deem so unjust in the structure of general society.

And, lastly, it is probable, that so far as the action of our system as carried on in our church-meetings, wherein their business is transacted, comes to their knowledge, it also displeases the working classes. The procedures are too tranquil and devout. The eldership is too active, and the members too quiescent. Promiscuous speeches and resolutions-spontaneous movements originated by individuals-discussions on topics rarely or never introduced-would be far more in accordance with the prevailing tastes of active-minded artizans. This is not meant of such as, being converted, enter our churches as spiritual and humble disciples of Christ; but of the on-looking, and unfavourably impressed multitude of alienated workmen around us: not of those who do come among us, but of those who are prevented from so doing by the notions they form of what we are, and of what we do. Doubtless, it is a nice point in theory-and more difficult to define abstractedly than to attain in practice what degree of freedom in speech and proposals should be sanctioned among the members of churches constituted as ours are. Probably no

rules on the subject would admit of indiscriminate application to all churches. The greater strictness of some, the greater liberty of others, in this particular, may be most salutary where adopted; but to transpose these wholesome adjustments might be most fatal to peace and order. But, as all the great purposes for which church proceedings are conducted bear a decidedly spiritual character, they can never be properly ordered where they cease to harmonize with the grave, subdued, and heavenly spirit, which is alone appropriate for the business as well as for the devotions of Christ's churches. It may be hoped that we have attained considerable success in so ordering our affairs; and it may be feared that, in proportion as we have done this, our practices will appear uninviting to a class whose conceptions, on such matters, are derived from a vehement spirit, exciting associations, and clamorous meetings.

Now, all these points of supposed repulsion in our religious order, operating to sever the working classes from us, are such as we deem our excellences-things that we must not alter, even did we know that the effect would be to gather to us great numbers of the artizan population; for in that case it would really be that we joined them, not they us; we should be making ourselves like them, not assimilating them to us. It is not believed that policy so fatal to our purity would augment our numbers; but were it so, to change a great and consistent religious denomination into an eager and tumultuous party, in which the political should predominate over the spiritual, would be indeed a folly and a ruin.

Two considerations, however, remain to be mentioned, in which, probably, may be seen peculiarities attaching to the Independent denomination unfavourable to its influence on the working classes, which, if neither positively blameable, nor entirely removable, should be counteracted and corrected as far as possible for it is not easy to mention a matter, at this moment, of greater religious and national importance than that of bringing multitudes of our artizans under the power of the gospel.

The first of these two considerations is the essentially middle-class character of our Congregationalism, and of our churches-and, therefore, of everything about them- preaching, buildings, ministers, manners, notions, and practicesall have on them the air and impress of English middle-class life. Our churches

have more and more worked themselves into this mould, as time and change have proceeded. Are they not at this time far more exclusively of that class than was the case a century ago? The higher orders, then not sparingly sprinkled among them, have now left them almost to a man; though it must, however, be acknowledged, that probably a larger proportion of poor may be now found among them than at the beginning of this century; but their access, as yet, has had little influence in changing that paramount impress of the middle so obvious on our denomination. The effect of this is, that persons of that station in life find themselves most at home in our fellowship. All things among us are adapted to their tastes and habits. We equally eschew the refined, imaginative, and hierarchic forms so congenial to the higher ranks on the one hand, and, on the other, the rough simplicity that might attract keen but unpolished artificers. Undoubtedly this circumstance presents us in a very unfavourable point of view to the artizans, whose great quarrel with English society altogether turns on its class structure, who complain incessantly of class interests and class legislation, and who are ever at war with the class spirit. It may be that these complainants are as deeply imbued with an exclusive class sentiment as any other portion of the whole community; but this does not alter the fact of their strong dislike of that in others with which they themselves are no less thoroughly imbued. Also, it is obvious that of all the classes prevailing in England, the artificers most dislike the middle class. antipathy is as apparent as it is strong. It prevented them even from rendering any assistance in the great Anti-corn Law struggle, and severs them widely from their natural allies in all political inter

ests and elections.

This

Now if we cannot-and it is believed that we cannot-alter much this class character of our churches, ought we not to discern that it does constitute a strong impediment to our success among the working people; and turn to mitigate its intensity in any way within our power? Wherever possible, we should sympathize and act with the mechanics in any movement to promote their intelligence, privileges, and welfare. In our religious proceedings and order, we should meet their tastes as far as practicable. We should remove whatever barriers to association and sympathy between us and them, in

the religious life, admit of correction. Especially, our minsters should aim to understand this class, and to remove, both from their public services and pastoral deportment, whatever may possibly render them unacceptable to so numerous and important a section of the English people.

The second consideration worthy of notice in this inquiry, as both tending to alienate the working classes from us, and also capable of some remedy, is our essentially antagonistic position. This we cannot avoid or alter. We may pronounce it a woe; but it remains no less on that account a fact, that we are born unto strife, as a religious communityhallowed strife, we believe-strife only for truth against error-no other strife than that essential to those who will stand faithful to their convictions, and to their Master. But such is the antagonism of our position, in doctrine, in worship, in polity, we are witnesses against what we deem most injurious errors. As such we are separated and marked. All eyes are on us, and all unfriendly. Our testimony troubles the land. We disturb the indolence, the security, and the interests of powerful bodies. We are greatly disliked and resisted. We are as much misunderstood and misrepresented. Such being our position and our repute, we can expect the adhesion of none but those powerfully convinced, and thoroughly decided. There is nothing to attract to us the timid, the careless, and the selfinterested. Still it is not for the sake of this objective view of our position that the circumstance of its polemic character has been adduced, but rather to offer a remark or two on its subjective influence on ourselves; and how it renders our churches abodes as unattractive as garrison towns. It tends to make our preaching technical, narrow, and hard. Some abstract topics are too frequently discussed-some simple, generous themes are almost altogether excluded-we move in a doctrinal orbit, remote from the common sympathies of men-and whatever be our theme, we are prone to reason and dispute, rather than to melt and glow. Moreover, it is not impossible that antagonism has driven us too far in rejecting indiscriminately whatever has been adopted by others who have doubtless associated much good with their evil; and whose ill use or association of anything true and good, ought not to have driven us to its rejection. Also our energies have been so much directed to testify

against evil, that the strength and energy have been thus absorbed which ought to have been employed rather in spreading truth, and strengthening, by increasing, our own body. We have seemed more intent on removing unsound systems than in establishing others truly scriptural. No doubt a further evil has accrued to us from our essential antagonism in its effect upon our spirit, which has been far more perceptible to others than to ourselves. The devout, gentle, and calm temper, so gracefully accordant with our holy religion, has with us suffered damage from our controversial calling. It were well if, as a religious class in this country, at the present juncture, we could see ourselves as others see us; if we could quite correctly ascertain how our buildings and devotions, our churches and discourses, look in the public view; how far they excite reverence, attract regard, command respect, or kindle hope in our on-looking countrymen; in particular, whether we are the people towards whom, by preference and sympathy, the working classes would be chiefly drawn, were their present antipathy to all religion removed; and, if not, what in us admits of such change and improvement as might tend to win the hearts, as well as to convince the judgments, of those that have been so long without. Most probably to the working classes we seem to stand in competition for their adherence with the other religious bodies of the country. As yet, they have rejected all alike. Nothing, however, has indicated that they have turned from us less resolutely, or more reluctantly, than from others. Are we, indeed, as repulsive as would seem, and can we neither discern nor remove the causes?

The imperfection of these remarks is strongly felt; their freedom is intended to be quite free from offence; their design is to move and help discussion. The subject to which they refer is confessedly most important. The facts they state or imply will hardly admit of question. A meeting of the Congregational Union cannot be more legitimately and usefully employed than in attempts to ascertain the exact character and position of the Independent churches at this time. To exercise the honesty and courage by which alone faults can be discovered, acknowledged, and corrected, is a most wholesome virtue. To think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think, is a corporate, quite as much as it is a personal fault-perhaps more so. Yet ought

we not so to depreciate ourselves as may exceed truth, or damp zeal and spirit. If we are not, indeed, a body adapted to act powerfully on the working classes, that may not be our calling of the Lord. It may be enough that we bear our witness, maintain our truth, and carry on our struggles through all disadvantages; and having done this, the great Master may say, "Well done! good and faithful servants!"

BY WHAT MEANS CAN WE, AS A BODY OF CHRISTIANS, BEST PROMOTE THE RELIGIOUS GOOD OF THE WORKING CLASSES?

By Edward Swaine, Esq.

"Our flesh is as the flesh of our brethren; our children as their children," NEH. X. 5. WHATEVER difficulties beset this question, perhaps its delicacy is not the slightest of them. To say what honest conviction impels to say, may require a statement

on

some points considerably differing from that which would express the mind of hearers; and, in suggesting remedies, opinions may be further crossed. But let the assurance be accepted that offence against a genial spirit, or fraternal feeling, if committed, will result only from want of skill, not from oversight of what is due. The honour of addressing this Union was entirely unsought; but, to be invited to it, does not the less impose an obligation to use the opportunity with moderation and respect, remembering whence it came.

The working classes!-Who has not, at some time, felt "How awful is a multitude," a congregated mass of men? The "wide silence" of a wilderness is not more impressive. When we have seen collected, on some special occasion, an excited throng of thousands, whom we would have fain controlled, and of which, too, it was possible to conceive ourselves the victim, what image scarcely has been more striking to us of resistless power, or given us more vividly the sense of individual weakness? Reflecting on the class which our question concerns, the whole assembled body may be imagined in review-not as it is, but as it might be ;-not in tumult which only God could still, or oppressed with toil, or want, or morally debased, but well clad, well fed, orderly, industrious, sober, and religious. Think of it-the concourse greater than was ever yet convened, and stronger in intelligence and physical force, because better ordered both in body and

in mind, but suggesting no awfulness save that of goodness, and exciting no sense, in relation to ourselves or to the commonwealth, but that of safety, competence, and honour.

Why do we imagine? Why is not the picture true? The inquiry is not impertinent, for the question before us implies that the reality is possible. We presuppose by it that we have principles and truths to employ, adequate to effect whatever results, temporal or spiritual, legitimately flow, sooner or later, from the Gospel to a people subject to its sway. Yes; fathers and brethren! that great aggregate of intellect, moral capacity, and which centres in the working power, classes of our land, that multitude of precious souls is before you, as the material upon which, in entertaining this question, you propose to act, by the help of God, in order to the blessed consummation but as yet imagined.

Yet the question needs to be justified as assuming no fallacy, and laying no groundless accusation. It does not imply that labour is unfriendly to religion, and so forget that, probably, He, the holiest, and certainly, those who best exemplified His spirit, wrought with their hands for daily bread. Nor does it imply that the welfare of the working classes has been to any a matter of indifference, however their actual condition may be a ground for blame. But it does imply that they need, and should engage, our sympathies and efforts in a special manner. Possibly some may think, that in this it assumes too much. They may be disposed to infer, from the prevalence of mechanics' institutes, loan libraries, and other indications, especially such as the 1025 Essays on the Sabbath, recently, and so greatly to their honour, produced by members of the working class, that as many of them in proportion are under moral and religious influence and culture, as there are of any other class. Even if it were so, their vast number, including families, would give them a special claim on our solicitude, and the unquestionable condition of too many of them would enforce it. A daily journal thus forcibly describes it:

"The dangerous classes' in every community must in general be said to be the classes who are themselves in danger. They lack secure or adequate means of subsistence. They possess either no pro perty at all, or so little that they live in daily fear of seeing it consume away in the inexorable demands of present want.

They would live by labour if they had it, if they could do it, if there were any cause to hope that to-morrow work would be even as yesterday, if not more abundant. But where multitudes stand all the day because no man will hire them, and where there is no tangible, proximate prospect of their being employedwhere such even as have work fear to think how soon it may cease and determine, and have no reasonable cause to hope that any alternative of toil exists for them-there are to be found dangerous classes-classes wavering on the brink of social or potitical demoralization-brands, fit and ready for the burning, whenever accident or mischief shall kindle the flame."-Daily News, Sept. 14.

Who will dispute that this is a true witness? For their own sakes, then, and for their country's sake, for the world's sake, for the sake of humanity, law, morals, and religion in general, the question before us would be urgent, even if the class it relates to were, proportionately to its bulk, as religious as any other. But what are the facts? Competent persons, amongst the various Protestant denominations, affirm their belief that of few congregations do the operatives constitute a considerable portion, and yet the number of male operatives, of twenty years of age and upwards, employed in England, as weavers, spinners, factory-workers, and hand-loom weavers alone, approaches half a million; while the whole male population of the same age, of the manufacturing districts of Yorkshire, Lancashire, Cheshire, and Derbyshire, where our textile manufactures are chiefly conducted, cannot exceed 600,000-the whole population, according to the valuable statistics of Mr. E. Baines, in 1843, being about 2,200,000, and the men, from twenty upwards, according to the census tables of 1841, constituting rather more than one-fourth of the whole population of the kingdom; clearly showing that the male adult operative class, if Protestants of any kind, should form a conspicuous portion of the men of every Protestant congregation in those districts. But the sittings in all the Protestant churches and chapels are only about 950,000 (according to Mr. Baines), and, at the usual reckoning on these subjects, not more than about 200,000, or 220,000 adult males, of all classes, would be in attendance, proving that all the remaining 380,000 or 400,000, or thereabouts, except those who are Roman Catholics, attend nowhere.

Passing the question who is most chargeable with neglect, lest, in accusing, we fall into the same condemnation, we proceed to offer some answer to our question.

In order that public teachers have free and permanent access to a people under no compulsion to receive them, two conditions are essential sympathy and truth. To win, there must be sympathy; to attach, truth. Ostensibly Christian teachers, bringing "another gospel" than the true, may obtain temporary popu larity, but they would not, nor would any succession of them, gain the world; for the world is for truth, and truth is for the world; or God's word would find no "entrance" into human minds and give no "light"-moral influence and action would be impossible. But truth must be presented truly-not so as to belie or obstruct itself. The doctrine that purports to come from infinite compassion, must come with mien and tone in unison; and not only so, the sympathy that seems must be, and the more complete it is the more certain the success.

There was one who "spake as never man spake" both to heart and mind. "The common people heard Him gladly." When his enemies sought Him they could approach only as dastards, and "by night, because they feared the people." "In the absence of the multitude" only could they apprehend Him. it all miracle? Was it not rather all natural, save in this, that " His understanding" was "infinite?" "He knew

Was

all men," and (emphatically truth Himself) must have sympathised with all just desires and lawful aspirations. He understood them; His heart was with them in all things right, and He spake to the heart, although he stirred no lawless passion, and touched no worldly chord. He brought not only the benign aspect, the kindly tone, the generous feeling, and the true doctrine, but that mystenous influence, "without measure," which attends in every case, more or less, where "heart meets heart." If we would largely win and benefit the working classes, we must aim, at least, to understand them. Our lamentation is that they do not attend the ministrations of Christian truth in any proportion to their numbers. Is it because they are only halt employed, and, consequently, ill clothed and pressed with worldly cares; or, through excess of competition, overworked, and seek indulgence on the day of rest? or is it because they are sensual,