but as Aristotle somewhere speaks, there is a perpetual peace and agreement between truth and truth, be they of what nature and kind soever. Nay, all the philosophy, that I give but a probationary countenance to, is so far from clashing with Christian truth, that it were to me, next to the Bible, the greatest corroboration of my faith in all the grand strokes of our religion, that I can imagine or desire.' Wherefore he conceived it was assigned to him to manage the truth of our religion in such a way as should be most gaining upon men of a more rational and philosophical genius, the present age abounding so much with such.'" - p. 482.

This he effected by referring the doctrines of Christianity to

"Those eternal and immutable rules of divine reason, which God has engraved on every man's spirit, and without which, whatever prophecies there are, or instructions in the Holy Writ, it were impossible for us to be ascertained of them, or indeed of any meaning in them."-p. 108, et passim.

His discourses* contain little that is remarkable. But his divine dialogues have been long and justly admired.† The form of this work is that of a series of Platonic dialogues, between a lover of God, a deeply thoughtful man, a wary man, a pious politician, a critic, a materialist, and a Cartesian. They "are all free spirits, mutually permitting one another the liberty of philosophizing, without any breach of friendship." Our limits forbid us to make extracts, which are the less necessary, since this is the least rare, and most readable of all his writings.

* London, 1692, 8vo.

† Divine Dialogues, containing sundry disquisitions and instructions concerning the attributes of God and his Providence in the world, collected and compiled by the care and industry of Franciscus Palæopolitanus, 2d ed. Lond. 1713, 8vo. To this is annexed a "Brief Discourse of the true ground of the certainty of faith in points of religion, together with some few plain songs or divine hymns, on the chief holy days in the year." A volume of his letters has been published, 8vo. Lond. 1694, and a "Collection of Aphorisms," made by him; 1704, Lond. 8vo. His Manual of Ethics has been translated into English by Southwell. Lond. 1690. We have seen a work referred to, called "Pathomicia, or Love's Loade-Stone, a Drama, by Henry More;" 4to. 1630; which, perhaps, belongs to our author, though it is doubtful that he published a Drama at the age of sixteen.

Most of his theological writings are collected in a volume with the title, "Theological Works of Henry More, D. D.," &c., containing the Grand Mystery of Godliness; the Mystery of Iniquity; Exposition of

The character of this great and good man may be delineated in a few words. Love of God was his prevailing sentiment. This burned at the centre of his soul. It warmed and enlightened his solitary speculations, and transcendent devotion. His chief desire was to live the divine life, and perpetually renew God's image in his heart. He strove to secure to others what he sought and won for himself. This was his sole desire in writing. He never sought fame, and scarcely welcomed it when it came uncalled for. He loved truth, with a deep, tranquil affection. He loved truth as a bride, not for what she brought, but for what she was. Animated with a spirit so pure, looking to objects so lofty and noble, he could not fail to be glorified while he ran. He revered the divine spirit in man, and saw the goodness of God in everything that lives, as a star reflected from a drop of dew. He felt it in the balmy wind of evening, which he loved so well. He saw it in every change of human affairs. His love had cast out fear; his hope was changed to an absolute trust in God. From this a shade of mysticism stole over him, which lessens none of his beauty. His intellectual faults were numerous; he was sometimes crushed by his own weapons. He had the learning of a giant, so his march was usually slow, and sometimes tedious. He would have written better, if he had referred more to life, and less to his common-place book. But these faults were merely accidents, the stain of a pedantic age, which did not injure the calm beauty of his soul. He had attained an eminence in Christian graces; had passed from virtue to goodness, and from fearful hopes to Christian tranquillity.

T. P.

the Epistle to the Seven Churches; Grounds of Faith in Matters of Religion; Antidote against Idolatry; Appendix to the same, with some Divine Hymns, "according to the author's improvements in his Latin editions." London. 1708. fol. Besides those already named, we have seen but two other works of Dr. More, viz., a Discourse of the Real Presence, 4to. Lond. 1686, (2d edition,) and a volume of tolerably good Discourses." Lond. 1692. 8vo.

ART. IV. - Lecture on War. By WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING. Boston: Dutton & Wentworth. 1839. 8vo. pp. 50.

THE decided and yet discriminating character of this lecture precisely meets the wants of the times. The moral aspect of war cannot be brought out too strongly. Amid the multitudinous cries of policy, of passion, of national pride, it does the heart good to hear the calm, strong voice of moral truth; and no one has done more to give a healthy tone to the agitating discussions of the day than the author of the discourse before

us.

His influence is not confined to our own country. It is stamping itself upon the age in which we live.

To those who are familiar with Dr. Channing's writings the Lecture on War contains perhaps no new doctrines. It is but a particular application of the great central truths in unfolding, which his life has been spent. It is distinguished for the power with which it lays bare a subject that has been disguised and consecrated by the homage of the world, through all the ages that are gone. There is no denunciation. It does not throw a shade over the characters of the great and good men, who have distinguished themselves in war. And yet there is no compromise. We cannot but be moved by the simple, solemn earnestness of its tone, the beauty, freshness, and almost startling force of its illustrations, the clearness with which it unfolds, and the confidence with which it applies, the great principles of moral and religious truth. The general views are almost precisely those which we had before entertained. Should we differ from it at all, it would be in laying greater stress than it might warrant upon the useful influence of war in the early stages of society.

It is a mistake to suppose, that, because principles are unchangeable, their results will be always the same. It is one unchanging law that causes the clouds to rise, the rain to fall, the moon and planets to revolve. Because, the law remains the same, its operations must vary with the circumstances under which it acts. It is so in the moral world. The law of justice is one, unchangeable; but its results are as various as the instruments it employs, and the circumstances under which it works. It delights the good, it torments the bad; it makes the virtuous free, for the vicious it forges chains, builds prisons, secludes them from the eye of man.

So in the more complicated measures by which its natural retributions are brought upon society at large. In the absence of good men, by whom righteous laws may be enforced, the bad become a scourge to each other. By unhallowed means, from wrong motives, since they alone are found, crime is suppressed, society advanced. In the progress of civilization, as sentiments of justice become more common, laws take the place of arbitrary decrees, and a government founded upon right, so far as the moral sense of the community will allow, succeeds to a despotic authority. Thus a band of robbers, cementing their union with murder, are gradually transformed into the free state of Rome; and again, with the influx of crime, sink under a despotism, until, through a series of unparalleled vices, they become the prey of barbarous tribes. Through all these revolutions we may trace the same justice, by an impartial retribution, allowing to every people only such institutions as they are able to support; and when at length they are no longer competent to sustain any government, their kingdom is given over to other nations, whose destiny, in like manner, through all changes, is to be wrought out in obedience to the same unchanging law.

These general remarks may be applied to war. In the early stages of society, when the intellect is sluggish, and to be called into action only through some strong physical excitement, it stimulates minds which otherwise might sleep. It is certainly a remarkable fact, that none but warlike nations have ever attained to any considerable degree of refinement. Through wars and rumors of war, over the field of battle, amid shouts and groans, trailing her garments in the blood of her children, has Humanity thus far advanced from the dens and cages of savage life. Poetry has placed the scene of her sweetest, wildest, and most thrilling lay amid the strife of hostile chiefs. Eloquence has seldom spoken with so terrific a power as in times of warlike tumult and commotion. Freedom, marching onward from century to century, has nowhere among the nations bared her bosom with such an air of majesty, or sent forth a cry so strong and startling, as amid the civil contests which have led on to war. The admiration of mankind has not been wholly misplaced. A nation rising in arms, with a calm but determinate resolution to conquer or die in defence of right, is a spectacle which does the world good. That nation may fall. Armed oppression may overpower her. But the field of battle survives. VOL. XXVII. 3D S. VOL. IX. NO. I.

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It marks the onward progress of liberty. It remains through all times, an imperishable talisman, to strengthen the heart, to rouse the spirit of freedom.

It is not the highest principle. It is not, in all its bearings, the principle which we, as Christians, should uphold. But it is the noblest impulse which, in a certain stage of society, men will appreciate. It has prepared the way for something higher than itself.

We cannot, therefore, look upon war as pure, unmitigated evil. It has accomplished a great purpose in the advancement of the world. It has worked with terrible instruments, indeed,

tearing away the fruits of long and patient toil, the silent growth of many a quiet day; but it has purged the heavy atmosphere of society; it has given to man an energy, a life, which, on the restoration of peace, has repaired the ruin, and led on to yet higher works. When has the world witnessed such resources of activity, such products of toil and invention, such an accumulation of material and intellectual riches, as within the quarter of a century which has elapsed since the close of that dreadful series of conflicts that followed the French Revolution? Old institutions, hardening with time, cramping the growth, stifling the free breath of society, have been thrown. off only by great civil commotions, which almost uniformly end in war. And taking men and governments as they have been, selfish, passionate, headstrong, and unjust, we see no other way in which freedom of thought and action could be gained.

Still it is not the highest spirit. It is not the spirit which Christianity approves. That is the spirit of martyrdom, which, 'conquering the world not by killing, but by dying," rests on spiritual arms alone, putting its trust in the omnipotence of the principles it maintains. It implies the sublimest heroism, the keenest intellectual perception, an immovable confidence in God, in virtue, in the human soul, and the supremacy of spiritual greatness. It claims no distinction but that of doing good. It asks no privilege but the rights of conscience. It recognises no higher law than the law of duty. Though unresisting, it is unconquerable; penetrating, subduing, moulding at will the stubborn elements of society; slowly but certainly undermining every form of tyranny which wars against God's laws or human rights.

This is the spirit of Christianity, the only principle on which the perfect Christian can act. But it implies the possession of