to an abstract principle in morals, why does he reject it when it loses its abstractness, and comes in a form of power and efficiency? The principle continues the same; it has only assumed a more active attitude. In truth, he now rejects it because it is active, and because it strenuously opposes many of his favourite inclinations. He does not wish to be guided by what he knows to be right, but by what he feels to be agreeable. "He does not wish to retain God in his knowledge." He does not wish, at any risk or with any sacrifice, to do the will of God; and therefore "he doth not know of the doctrine whether it be of God." Such an ignorance as this is criminal; because it arises from a wilful stifling of conviction, and an aversion to admitted truths.

It thus appears, that, by the help of abstract ideas and general terms, a man may appear to have made great progress in morals, whilst in fact he has learned nothing. Things operate on our minds exactly according to our apprehension of them, and not according to their own intrinsic value. Our apprehension of abstract truths in morality is so vague, that they hardly operate on our characters at all. Does it not, then, approach almost to a demonstration, that if God really intended to improve the happiness and characters of men, by instructing them in the excellence of his own character, he would communicate this instruction, not in the form of abstract propositions and general terms, which are, by the construction of the human mind, incapable of producing

any real and lasting effect upon us, but by that way which coincides with our faculties of apprehension, that is, by the way of living and palpable actions, which may add the weight and distinctness of their own substance to those truths which they are intended to develop ? That men stand in need of such an improvement, is certain; that a gracious Being should intend it, is surely not improbable; and if he had such an intention, that some such scheme as Christianity should have been adopted, seems necessary to its success.

At first sight, it may seem strange that a system evidently flowing from so much goodness, tending to so much happiness, and constructed with so much wisdom, should in general be either rejected, or admitted with an inattentive and therefore useless assent: But there are circumstances in the case which abundantly account for this. The Great Author of Christianity anticipated this rejection, and forewarned his disciples of it. His knowledge of the heart of man made him well acquainted with many causes which would operate against the reception of his doctrine. When Agis attempted to regenerate the diseased government of Sparta, he stirred up and armed against himself all the abuses and corruptions of the state. It would have been strange if this had not happened; and it would also be strange, if a doctrine which tends to regenerate human nature, and to eradicate the deep-seated and yet favourite diseases of the

heart, should not arm against itself all those moral evils which it threatens to destroy.

A man finds no difficulty in giving his acquiescence to any proposition which does not carry along with it an obligation on him to something which he dislikes. The great bulk of the population in this country, for instance, acquiesce in the Copernican system of astronomy, although they may possess little or no knowledge of the mathematical or physical truths on which this system is reared. But let us make the supposition for a moment, that an acquiescence in this theory somehow or other involved in it a moral obligation on every believer of it to walk round the world, we cannot doubt but that the party of Ptolemy, or some other less imperious philosopher, would, in these circumstances, very soon carry almost every voice.

The religion of Jesus Christ involves in it a great variety of obligations; and it was indeed principally for the purpose of elucidating and enforcing these obligations, that God was pleased to make it known to mankind. And many of these obligations are so distasteful to the natural selfishness or indolence of our hearts, that we feel unwilling to embrace a conviction which involves in it so complete a derangement of our plans and a thwarting of our habitual inclinations. Were the beautiful lineaments of the Christian character to be portrayed in a theory which should disclaim all interference with the consciences and du

ties of the world, it would infallibly attract much intellectual and sentimental admiration : And were the high and holy character of God, and its universally-pervading influence, to be painted in glowing colours, and were that unbounded liberty to be described, in which those spirits that are perfectly conformed to His will, must expatiate through all the vastness of creation and eternity,-were all this to be couched in the terms of a lofty imagination, without any appeal to the conscience, and without attempting to bring in this splendid vision to haunt our hours of carelessness or of crime,-who can doubt that taste and fancy and eloquence would pour in their converted disciples within the engaging circle of such a religion? And yet we find, that taste, and fancy, and eloquence, and high intellect, and fine sentiment, often reject Christianity: And the reason seems to be, because it is not a science merely, but a practical art, in which every part of knowledge is connected with a corresponding duty. It does not present to us a beautiful picture merely, it commands us to copy it; it does not merely hold forth to us the image of perfect virtue,-it declares to us also our own guilt, and denounces our condemnation; it does not merely exhibit to us the sublime idea of a spiritual and universal sovereign, -it also calls upon us, by this very exhibition, under the most awful sanctions of hope and fear, to humble ourselves before Him, and to look to Him as the rightful proprietor of our thoughts and words and actions. There is

something in all this very harassing and unpleasing to our nature; and the fact that it is so, may account for the real rejection that it generally meets with even amongst its nominal friends, and may also operate as a warning against ascribing too much weight to that contempt or aversion which it sometimes receives from those whose talents, when directed to other objects, we have been accustomed to follow with our admiration and gratitude. The proud man does not like to give up the triumph of superiority; the vain man does not like to give up the real or fancied applause of the circle in which he moves; the careless or worldly or sensual man does not like to have himself continually watched and scrutinized by a witness who never sleeps, and who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity. Now, as great talents are often to be found in men of such characters, we need not wonder that they employ these talents in defending the foundation on which their chief enjoyment is built, rather than in pursuit of a truth which, they are conscious, would level the whole fabric with the ground. Men do not look very diligently for that which they would be sorry to find.

It is difficult to persuade a careless profligate to live a life of temperate and useful exertion; because it is difficult to obtain from him a candid hearing on the subject. He thinks exclusively of the gratifications which he is called upon to renounce, and never allows his mind to rest calmly on the motives which would in