woman's sensitive delicacy from masculine symmetry, endurance, and strength. All these principles, and of course all secondary ones derived from them, are affirmed and decreed by the general Law. It is a mistake to suppose that the law of love, for example, has its source in the Gospel alone. The Gospel alone has brought it clearly, and with wonderful power of enforcement, into relief. But it shines dimly in Greek, and Roman, and other literatures, apart from the gospel light. It is written in the soul by the finger of its Creator.

Having spread out the contents of the great Law of Right, and shown their bearing upon every thought, word, and deed, in every hour of life, the next step in our course would bring us to the question, HAVE WE OBEYED THIS LAW?—a question solemn and awful in its very propounding; and able, in its answer, to freeze the blood of every son and daughter of Adam.

The line of proof appropriate at this stage of our course, to fasten the conviction that we have all utterly disobeyed that high and holy law that binds the arch of heaven with its eternal chain, we shall the more briefly indicate, since the subject is familiar to every mind, and the conclusion can by no possibility be disputed. The fact appears on every hand, in the present state of the world,-on every page of history,in the laws, maxims, and institutions of society, which in every line and feature bear witness, that they were made for, and by, a race prone to evil,-in the unanimous confession of all men,-in the mutual recrimination, even of those who would fain deny the doctrine, there being, as a general rule, no loudervoiced accuser of mankind in other aspects, than the man who repudiates what is known as the "doctrine of depravity." One of the most emphatic proofs of human sinfulness which we should suggest is, the partial success of all religions, even the Gospel, in purifying the soul. Of all the views of human depravity which can be taken, we know of none more striking, than that afforded by looking into the heart of a Christian,not for its comparative sinfulness, but that, under the full power of the Gospel, it is still so imperfect. The argument, of course, becomes more powerful when the divinity of the Gospel is

assumed. It is, however, stringent, on naturalistic grounds. No philosophy can overlook the sublime elevation, the winning beauty, and the untold weight of motive, brought to bear in the Gospel upon the mind of the believer. That all these should produce so little effect, is proof irrefragable of the utter alienation of the heart of man from good. And finally, we would appeal to conscience. The still small voice accuses us. There is no man who does not hear it;-there is none who dares deny it;-there is none who could be believed if he did.

By voices like these the judgment is rendered against us when we ask, "are we all indeed sinners in the sight of reason and of nature?" There is no mistaking the response.

It is possible, however, that the fact of sinfulness may be admitted in a vague, and somewhat unmeaning sense; or with the idea that it is, after all, a superficial feature of the soul, either of little consequence if remaining, or what any ordinary or chance influence may remove. A slight consideration will dispel these pleasing dreams. If there is anything, belonging not to the fundamental nature but to the activity of the soul, which may be regarded as radical and innate, it is the fact of sinfulness. We believe there has been no child of Adam's race, save the one divine child, that has failed, or would have failed, had it lived, to develop the same sad, universal tendency to transgression. But what do we say of traits of character which show themselves absolutely universal? We call them radical and fundamental. Consider, too, the early age at which signs of depravity begin to appear, -even under the most pure and benign influences,-no family on earth ever yet so holy, no household pervaded by an atmosphere so sweet, that the noxious weed has not sprung up and grown spontaneously, as if native to the soil. The fact already mentioned of the partial success of even the best influences, the purest and most powerful religion,—in lifting men wholly above the power of sin, proves the depth and inveteracy as well as the existence of sin. Whoever looks closely at the fact of sinfulness as it exists among men, will be forced to the conclusion that the root of it lies deep below all exercise or development of character, even in the nature itself. The

absurd and impossible views so often entertained of the nature of sin, which place the sin itself before all action, all consciousness, and even all personal existence, contradictory as they are to the essential nature of moral quality, are yet the by no means unnatural result of the terrible proofs everywhere exhibited of the depth and inveteracy of sin-sin, which, if not itself, as has been supposed, a nature, most unmistakably evinces that the seed was sown, and the root planted, not in character and activity, but in the nature itself of the soul. There is no more awful, no more dark and dreadfully mysterious fact, in all the compass of human observation, than this of the real nature of sin.

Sinners! sinners! then we stand before that mighty Law,and sinners in such a sense as has now been explained. The law is the law of nature and of our own being, written in the constitution of things. Our sin is against nature, and against ourselves, as well as against abstract truth and right. The vital forces thus of the very universe rise up and condemn us, -the deepest nature of our being cries out against us. Nay, in a sense, time, and space, and substance, with the principles of eternal reality and right, these are our accusers, our judges, and our avengers! O soul! soul! what will you do? Where will you hide? Nature, from all her depths, and with all her voices, your own included, is against you; and wherever the eye can turn, or thought can fly, there is nothing that is, or can be imagined to be, but is your enemy.

We have now arrived at the third stage in our course. It is laid in the answer to the question, What ought we to do, in the circumstances in which we find ourselves placed? What ought we in the eye of right? what ought we in the eye of prudence?

There can be but one answer. REPENTANCE, REPENTANCE FOR THE PAST, AND AMENDMENT FOR THE FUTURE, is the least that we can think of offering to the offended majesty of righteous Law.

A single consideration sufficiently illustrates this self-evident truth. Not to repent is to continue the crime; and to con

tinue, is every moment to repeat it. By how much, therefore, our guilt is guilt, by so much, each moment repeated, are we bound to repent and forsake. The reduplication and piling up of guilt, thus effected, is a fact of terrible import.

Moreover, the repentance which is called for must be no less deep, humble, and comprehensive, than the sinfulness for which it seeks to atone. Any holiday dress will here be as inadequate to the solemn truth involved as in respect to the nature of sin. The remedy must go as deep as the disease. See where sin lies in the soul, and what it is in its nature, and you need ask no further as to what genuine repentance must be, and where it must work, and what the change of character it must produce.

We now reach our fourth position in the question, WHAT

WILL BE THE CONSEQUENCES OF SIN, IF UNREPENTED OF AND UNFORSAKEN?

If we first observe the analogies of the physical and intellectual world, as related to this subject, we find that every infraction of law in the realm of matter is followed by its evil result, and if continued, by the ruin of its subject. True, nature sometimes exhibits a certain recuperative power. But this involves the fact of injury as its very ground. Without this there could be no recovery. But the healing of a wound does not make the wound a blessing. Though the injury may cease to continue, it is not thereby annihilated from the history of its subject. Injuries and cures, if repeated too oftenfilling the life of a subject-would involve an anomalous condition, little short of ruin. Moreover, the recuperative principle confers no positive good; it is merely the slow passing away of a previous evil. It requires time; and hence, if crowded too close between frequent injuries, must fail to do its work, and leave the subject to ruin. Nor does the recuperative power often, perhaps ever, amount to a complete removal of the injury; while, if ever so small a portion remain, continued repetition will end in ruin. Moreover, the power of recovery supposes, necessarily, that the evil is no longer accumulating, that is, that the infraction of the law has ceased. There is no recovering force which can make head against a

continued injury,-certainly if a serious one. Nor does it appear that in order to this the process of wounding must go on forever. Ordinarily, if not always, a point may be reached comparatively near at hand, beyond which the vital force of recovery seems to die. It should also be observed, that the most remarkable exhibition of the recuperative power in nature, is in the case of systems, races, and economies, not in that of individuals. But for all the purposes of the present argument those cases are not significant. The relation of the individual to the infraction of law, is the direction in which the analogy is to be made to bear. Thus, there are laws in material nature, so high and sacred that their infraction draws down inevitable evil, of but partial and doubtful susceptibility of mitigation, and if too long continued, inevitably ending in ruin. And this action lies, not among the lighter phenomena, but among the deepest principles of nature.

If we pass to the mind of man, we find similar principles holding sway; as illustrated by the results of over-work, of work under too great excitement, or too deep emotion, of idleness, of dissipation, vice, and other such causes, producing feebleness, distraction of judgment, prejudice, and even insanity. We may not be able to determine on the principles of nature merely, whether the process of decay could go on to the absolute death of the soul; though material analogies would seem to favor the supposition; but certainly it may go to the length of virtual ruin.

Why, now, we ask, should not a similar law be expected to prevail in the realm of morals? This is a realm certainly higher and more sacred than the others. Now everywhere in nature, the higher you rise in the scale of being, as privilege grows broad and high, the penalty of loss and failure becomes proportionately dark and deep. We should expect, therefore, to find the law of consequences resultant from error, more, rather than less stringent in the realm of morals than in that of matter and of mind. So far as we can trace the order of cause and effect in this department, the expectation is fulfilled. Injury to the soul, of the most serious character, does result from the infraction of moral law. See the difference between