But as Christianity is thus made for the heart of man, and fitted to purify its every emotion, so it is by the respondings of the heart to its compassionate appeals, that he commences or continues his participation of its restoring efficacy. It is on this account, that the reception of its benefits is described in Scripture, not as an exercise of cold intellection, but as the gratification of eager desire. "Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, you have no life in you." Unless your belief in the great Christian Sacrifice be to you a matter of positive fruition, you cannot but be dead; because you are destitute of that instinctive relish for spiritual nourishment which indicates the existence of spiritual life. To expatiate here, however, would be endless. This high-toned religion is all over a religion of love. Whether we look at it in its origin, or its doctrines, or its spirit, or its discipline, or its progress, or its consummation, we see it to be pervaded, and illumined, and encompassed by the glory of divine munificence. If it were not a religion of love, it would be lost upon human nature; for man, as the creature of God, is endowed with affections which, whether he will or not, and whether he be holy or unholy, are the medium of his happiness or misery. They are essential parts of his constitution, ordained to stimulate his powers of action, and, without them, his thoughts and his recollections, and, of course, his capacities of pain or pleasure, would languish in eternal torpor. But we

may say, it is more than a religion of love; at least, it is love modified and mixed up into an exact accordance with the present condition of man. This, indeed, is the character of every dispensation which comes

from God to his rational offspring. When he created our world, and wrapt it in respirable air, and gilded it with light and colour, and covered it with freshness and verdure, and overspread its teeming bosom with all the diversities of fruit and fragrance, and placed it under the dominion of man, and exhibited the whole as a mirror for reflecting the wonders of his Godhead, he showed himself, by symbols the most expressive, to be the fountain of exuberant goodness; adapting that goodness, in wisdom the most exquisite, to the situation of holy human intelligences. to enjoy him, even in this state of things, it was indispensable that the innocent creature who drank from the rivers of his pleasures, should exercise the purest religious affections. But when he created ChrisHe formed the new

And

tianity he did more than this. dispensation to the new state of things. By a fresh development of wisdom, he carried his love beyond the precincts of innocence, and sent it forth on a great pacific embassy into the dark regions of depravity, proclaiming to the creatures of rebellion and wretchedness, who had lost the use of his material creation, and converted its stores into the resources of crime, "forgiveness with him that he may be venerated, and plenteous redemption that he may be sought unto."

If these things are so, (and who that has but glanced on his Bible can set them aside?) they teach us most forcibly, that to propose to be religious, without the exercise of the affections, is to meditate a wild excursion into the regions of impossibility, to attempt an impotent and daring infraction at once on the specific bearings of Christianity, and on the con

stitution of the human mind. We may have to do with many trivial things, and we may give them their due in a state of comparative neutrality of mind: but duty to God, and sin against him, are great things and righteous; or wicked, pious, or impious we cannot be, without a strong excitement of human feeling. The reason is, that thought, and feeling, and conduct, are inseparably conjoined in such minds as ours; and where the heart is not given, the man is not given. Make of it then what we may, it remains a truth, that the religion which is from above was made for hearts-for human hearts-for human hearts depraved by sin,-it is kind, and gentle, and suasive, and social, that it may interest such hearts; and so far as it is excluded from the heart, it can have no living subsistence among the children of men. A person may honour it with whatever else he pleases; he may give his body to its ceremonies, or his mind to its disquisitions, or his money to its promulgation, or his influence to the enforcement of its social moralities; but unless these givings be sustained and consecrated by the higher and holier devotion of the heart, they are inanities in the sight of God.

If it be asked, "Why labour to make out a point which is self-evident, and which no man in his senses will venture to deny?' the apology is, that although the point itself be evident, yet the moral principle involved in it is wofully obscured; and we know of no fitter means competent to man, for restoring it to its place, as a stimulant of action, than a display of its force and solidity, or an honest disclosure of the consequences in which the man is involved who continues to disregard it. The only way in which

a man can have access to the conscience of his fellow-man, is by appealing to his understanding, from the principles of the Bible; and although the moral of these principles be always a plain point, yet it furnishes material for that very species of discussion and persuasion which the Spirit of God employs for accomplishing his merciful purpose. Now, it is strange indeed that religion, with its collateral interests, is almost the only thing within the whole range of voluntary avocation, from which many thousands of baptized men withhold the exercise of their affections; and if they found a man displaying the same apathy in his secular pursuits which they display in this department, they would be tempted to question the sanity of his mind. What, for instance, would be thought of the man who, while he had joined himself to the admirers of the drama, and continued to occupy a seat within the walls of the theatre with the utmost steadiness and regularity, had no relish whatever for dramatic representation? and, while others around him were gathering up delight from the burst of eloquence, or the flash of wit, or the play of humour, which the incidents of the piece, or the skill of the performers was successively sending forth upon them; while, in short, they were wafted along by the current of the sentiment, and giving way to the alternations of joy or of terror, of tenderness or of sensuality, which the spirit of the amusement was fitted to inspire, he was as completely isolated from the whole as if he had been blind, and deaf, and dumb. Such a person would unquestionably be marked as a strange anomaly in his department, and it might puzzle ingenuity to ascertain what could

possibly induce him to be there at all. The same thing might be said of the initiated sportsman. He is not addicted to the toils, or fearless of the hazards of the field, as a matter of mere ceremony. He gives his heart to it, as, to him at least, the medium of high delight. Every incident of the scene gives a new impulse to his soul, and catching the inspiration of the howling quadrupeds which scour the plain before him, he shares in their brutal happiness, or suffers along with them in their disappointment.-Sọ it is also with the miser, or the sensualist, or, to rise to names of another order, the man of taste, and science, in letters and philosophy. It is counted on, as a matter of course, that each is actuated by the spirit of his pursuit, or formed into its likeness with more or less entireness, according to the place which it holds in the affections of his heart; and where this inspiration fails, he is disowned by the brotherhood on which he is thus obtruded, as a hated obstruction to the flow of their enjoyment. This is the way of the world; but why should it be otherwise in reference to Christianity? Shall men pour

out the whole fervour of their souls on science, or wealth, or vulgar amusement, while the things which involve eternity, with all its woes or felicities, are treated with callous neglect? Men are accustomed to pervert themselves thus, and the evil is so common, it has ceased to be wondered at; but were they to look at things as they really are, the enormity of their conduct, as an offence against reason, to carry the matter no higher, would fill them with alarm.

It is no vindication of the apathy complained of to say, 'I cannot do otherwise. My friends, and