respect to be attributed to it, but not every thing, nor even the principal influence. Still, what a man believes, must have some influence upon what he feels. In fact, what he really believes, constitutes a part of what he is. But so has religion been severed from all rational connection with every thing else, that it has been possible for the most beautiful forms of character to grow up amidst every variety of belief, and of the most monstrous belief. The result is not logical; but men are not logical. The result, too, is somewhat exceptional; and, with the body of mankind, what they think must have a great deal to do with what they are. Mr. Lecky has drawn a terrible picture of what the doctrines of exclusive salvation and eternal perdition, for the mass of men, did, to produce a general inhumanity and the most relentless persecutions; and it is not more terrible than true.

Within the last twenty or thirty years, there has been a remarkable decadence of controversial theology, and especially perhaps, among ourselves. The older men among us, who took part in the controversy with the Orthodox faith, became thoroughly tired of it; and mostly in their preaching turned away from it. This tendency, I believe, has gone full far, and ought to be checked. The day of creeds, it is said, has gone by; but I do not think so. The day of dogmatic creeds, if you please, but not of vital beliefs. And I conceive that it is our duty again to spread before the people, in books and tracts, the views we hold of religious truth and of religion. I believe they are of the utmost importance in building up a rational, cheerful, and earnest faith and piety.

But there is a controversy which has arisen among ourselves, and is of more interest to us than any we have with others; and that relates to the character of the claim which Christianity itself has upon our reverence. Has it a supernatural claim? Does it bear upon it the stamp of miracle, either in the character or in the works of its Founder?

This question turns upon the view we take of the Christian. records? Are they reliable? Are they to be taken mainly as they stand? Or do they consist, in considerable part, of legendary accretions that grew up about the original story? Are

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they in part, of the same unreliable character as the spurious Gospels? We have a body of such Gospels. They contain internal evidence enough of being spurious. No one can read them without feeling it. With the exception of the Gospel of Nicodemus, or Acts of Pilate, which is evidently a constructed fiction, all these writings are full of improbable, or absurd and idle stories. But the genuine Gospels bear all the marks of sobriety and honesty together; and are, indeed, every way of such a moral tone, that it is impossible to believe that the writers intentionally inserted what they knew to be mere fables, to embellish their narratives. And, if they had given simply and only an account of Jesus as a pure and sublime Teacher, we should have credited them without hesitation.

It must be, then, a distrust of all miracles, that leads us to distrust the Evangelists. It is the assumption that a miracle is in itself and altogether, an impossible and an incredible thing. Are we entitled to take this ground? Is the system of the universe such a system of "evolutions," rolling up every thing into their folds, that it is not left to God himself, to change or re-enforce any power in matter or mind? If we say this, upon what grounds can we say it? Certainly not that we intuitively know it. And if upon any other ground, it must be that we know all the facts and possibilities in the universe; which we do not know.

The truth is, I suppose, that the rejection of miracles does. not depend on argument, but upon a general state of mind. It is that state of mind which Mr. Lecky has described in his admirable book on the history of Rationalism in Europe. We all know - know by experience - what it is; and we all welcome in general the progress of Rationalism. But all progress goes by swayings back and forth; and the question is, whether the rationalistic tendency may not, on this subject, go too far; just as every other tendency-liberty, equality, democracy-may at times go too far. It certainly may be so; and it would not surprise me to see a re-action in favor of miracles.

But, however this shall be, I desire for myself to touch

ground amidst the swayings of the great rationalistic tide, and not to be carried too far. If there is one state of mind that is unfavorable to miracles, there is another that is favorable to them; and it may be the most philosophical of the two. Is the Supreme Nature an infinitely loving Nature, or is it a mere impersonal Force? When I am most impressed with God's tender mercy to every creature, and dismiss the childish thought that it cares less for this world because it is one of an infinite number; when I see what a world it is, and feel the mighty burden upon its heart, of sorrows and strugglings and perils; and when I behold that immaculate Wonder which rose in the world, eighteen centuries ago, to shine with healing power upon all the ages, it does not seem to me irrational to believe, that this grandest intervention for human help, was marked by the finger of God, with some special emphasis and attestation. I cannot say that I know it, this is not a matter for dogmatic and unquestionable statement; but that my mind inclines me to believe it.

The question here, belongs to the philosophy of Christianity, and not to its essence; and ought not to alienate or separate its true friends. I see as good men on one side of it as the other. And for good and thoughtful men to hold one another under any religious or social proscription for their honest opinions, ought to belong to the accursed intolerance of the past.

The truth is, the vitality of the Christian religion, lies deeper than miracles. The mission of Christ is the same in its object, whether attested by miracles or not, to lead us out of darkness into light; out of distrust and despair to filial faith; out of sin and sorrow to holiness and blessedness. Men may be so led, are so led, without ever thinking of miracles or the miraculous. There are miracles in the human soul,— at least there are direct and divine imprints upon it, that are of deeper import than any that are external or exceptional. Christianity itself, is based upon something deeper than its visible form or claim. I accept it as the best of religions, but not as the whole of religion. "The Christian consciousness," though that phrase is constantly pronounced as the

The final and great word God; and the spirit of God Nothing offends me more than

is

final word, is not the final word. Jesus himself being witness breathing in the human soul. the extravagant claims of the Christian dogmatists, saying "Nothing but Christ, nothing but Christ," as if God were not; and the presence of God were nothing. No: it is not true that all religion lies within the compass, even of Christian dogma and institution. It comes also from the wayside of still meditation. It comes from the midnight stars. It comes from the clouds of eventide. It came so to Antoninus and Boethius, and many another, who, without written law, were a law to themselves. It comes from converse with good men's presence and example and heroic deeds. It comes from the biographic page, from poetic inspiration, from pictures of saints and martyrs, from the deeps of music; from wherever the spirit of God, like the unseen wind, breathes holy refreshment and healing life through the hearts of the children of

men.

But I am dwelling too long upon this topic; and I have something yet to say of the Church and its ministrations, as the means of awakening and kindling a religious life in the people. I must limit myself to a few words upon the Church as a working institution (so to speak); upon preaching and the manner of the Great Preacher; and upon the Ordinance that commemorates him.

With regard to the Church as a working institution, I have often thought, that if I were the pastor of a church, in town or country, but especially in the latter, I should want a building of hardly less capacity than the Church itself, for various purposes. I should want a library-room, and a reading-room, and a lecture-room; which should also be a chapel for conference and other religious services; and also one or two rooms for charitable work. I would make this a rallying-place for the congregation, where they might find "books and work and healthful play" of the intellect. Here I should like to talk to them, from time to time, of the works of Nature, of the world they live in, and try to make them understand something of it. I should like, too, to have lectures from the more

intelligent members of the congregation, and discussions, conference, questions and answers upon these subjects; and also at times, deeper religious conference. And it seems as if something might be done here, to make the people acquainted with the intellectual world they live in. That grand outcome of the world's thought which we call Literature, what a sad default to reason, to common sense, for persons who can read, to pass through this life-sphere, and to know nothing of its sublimest oracles! Men read, read much perhaps; but what? Ephemeral trash, the last sensation novel, or the newspaper; and they know little or nothing of Plato or Epictetus, of Hooker or Addison, or Milton or Burke, hardly of Shakespeare, but that such persons have lived. And I firmly believe, that, if any pastor would take up this plan; if he did not preach so much; if, instead of wearing himself out with making formal visits, and writing so many sermons, -Dr. Chauncey said, two hundred were as many as any man should write; if, I say, he would meet the people in this way, they would know him better, and he them; and altogether they might build themselves up in a culture, both of knowledge and religion, that, for a religious congregation, would be a new thing in the world.

Such gatherings of the people might be on one or two evenings of the week, or on Sunday afternoons. It would be better, I think, than to listen to a second sermon, which drives out the first, a custom, too, which muddles the people's ideas about sermons altogether, so that they can tell less about them than of any thing else they hear or know. There is too much preaching. There is too much preaching for the preacher. There is too much preaching for the people.

But preaching, - this is the second point I am to notice. There is a sigh through all the land, over dull preaching. And when a man comes along, who touches and melts the heart of the people, it is an era to them: they remember it long after. I am speaking in the general. I know that we have interesting preachers among us, and a good many of them, more, I believe, than any other people have. Still, there is a sad deficiency; and the question is, and it is the