of consciousness, will inevitably determine the character of the whole course of speculative inquiry into the nature of both the finite and infinite spirit. The necessary limits of such an article as this permit but a brief exhibition of a truth, which, judging from present indications in the religious world, is beginning to be more clearly seen. The consciousness of sin necessarily implies the existence of conscience, and the absolute truth and authority of its decisions. Let this be true, though all other faculties of the human soul be liars. Nothing therefore is to be admitted into a speculative system, which plainly contradicts the decisions and commands of conscience, and is thereby at war with the earnest demands of that rational and moral nature necessarily implied in conscience. This part of man, inasmuch as, by virtue of it, he is put into relationship with the eternal world and the whole system of moral truth, is the fundamental and most deeply-seated part. "It is his being," as Milton says. It is, therefore, the deep subjective foundation of certainty, and in all his speculations man should reverently listen to its voice. He should hold all the other powers of his being in obedience to this; acknowledging that his high intel. lectual powers are inferior in rank to the moral, and were given only that they might subserve his development as a moral being; that the speculative should be guided and tested by the practical, and be subordinated to it; and that the heart should instruct the head. If now the philosopher, through the consciousness of sin, is led to recognize and feel the inalienable authority of conscience in all his speculative inquiries, it is plain that his system will harmonize with the Bible in the assumption of a personal God, and of a will in man responsible to God for its obedience or disobedience of his law. For sin is personal, and committed against a person. Thus the two forms of Pantheism, (ultimately meeting together and becoming one in Atheism,) into which speculation has hitherto most frequently fallen, will be avoided; and the holy and personal God of Christianity will be the God of philosophy. If, however, the truth-revealing power of the consciousness of sin ceased here, the philosopher would stand upon the same ground with the later heathen moralists; and the peculiar truths which distinguished Christianity from their pure theism would not be recognized. But it does not stop here. The deep and painful demand the indwel consciousness of guilt and corruption, must seek and find a satisfying and reciprocal relationship with God, not as personal and condemning merely; but, (as he manifests himself in revelation,) as justifying and sanctifying also. The consciousness of guilt will call for Him who alone can remove it. The consciousness of inward schism and alienation from God, will ling of the Divine Spirit. Thus, by knowing himself as a sinner, the philosopher will be led, both by the imperative law of conscience and the wants of his own moral being, to shape his system into harmony with the Christian doctrine of God as Triune,as Father, Redeemer, and Sanctifier; and with the whole body of Christian doctrine inseparably and organically connected with this. Furthermore, his system will not only harmonize with Christianity, but it will be pervaded by its spirituality. His philosophy will become religious; for it has received its " form and pressure" from the recognition of the fact of sin, which renders the gospel necessary, and is its great presupposition. His spirit will feel satisfied with, and repose in a theory of itself, and an exhibition of its governing laws, so in unison with a religion in which the hopes of humanity are bound up; and through which alone the best and most earnest aspirations of humanity when conscious of its spiritual condition can be realized. So long as philosophy starts with, and in its wanderings is checked by, the consciousness of sin with its vast implications, we need not fear for the truth; we need not fear for the philosopher. All that is fastened to that firm staple will be held secure. A fourth tendency of the consciousness of sin, is to render a philosophical system reverent. Since man is finite and a creature, he ought to be reverent; and a reverential spirit should shine out of all the results of his study. But not only is it his duty, it is his interest, to investigate with an humble spirit. The most successful thinkers of the race have been men of child-like simplicity and modesty, both because the profound views of truth they obtained have awed them, and because that earnest and inquiring spirit which is an elementary quality of the philosophic mind, is itself intrinsically modest. It is consciousness of sin alone which will produce and preserve true reverence in the philosopher. We say true reverence, in distinction from that spurious reverence which is too often mis taken for it. That most seductive and profound of all the forms of error, Ideal Pantheism, can truly assert that it produces a sort of reverence. The mind cannot really believe in the existence of an impersonal Power and Presence interfused through all being, and working and weaving in the blindness of its infinity, without intelligent will, without conscious design, without wise benevolence, and not have a terrible dread settle down on it like a pall. Well might the young heart of Tholuck be seized with shuddering, when, standing amid the exuberant fulness of nature, on a flowery morning of spring, or in the starry night, he could hear no sound but the dark rush of an unknown stream of life, in which he was but a single wave; and could obtain no sure conviction that the all-pervading Power was one of intelligent holiness and love.* A system which carries man in among the primal and secret lifepowers of nature, but does not allow him to contemplate them as the creation of a personal and good being, towards whom he may sustain the relation of a child, must necessarily awaken awe of some kind. The whole boundless realm of nature, for him who does not recognize a distinction between it and God, becomes a dark repository of blindly-working forces. And he who enters it, will feel its sepulchral cold. The emotions which pass through him will be those of indefinite dread and terror; such as are called up by the naked and repulsive immensity and unearthly gloom of those old temples of Egypt, once dedicated to a grosser form of Pantheism. But this is not the intelligent and reverential fear which that God, who is a Spirit, requires; and which conscience enjoins. In order to true reverence, the philosopher must believe in the living God who revealed himself to Moses, as "forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty." In order to true reverence in a system of philosophy, it must everywhere acknowledge the reality of the law of conscience, and of the other truths involved in it; — of a spiritual law, which is above that sphere of mere nature in which Pantheism moves; and which, by the feelings of guilt and remorse, and by the sense of accountableness awakened by its violation, betokens itself to be different in kind from those natural laws whose violation is * Predigten, Bd. I. S. 58. indeed attended with disorganization and death, but not with "that fearful looking-for of judgment and fiery indignation which shall devour the adversaries" of the All Holy as well as All Mighty. That the consciousness of sin produces this true reverence is self-evident. It brings the spirit directly into the eye of its holy Lawgiver; and leads it, in deep abasement, to acknowledge his moral perfections. The man may still dwell in his contemplations among the living powers of nature, and wonder and be awed at their manifold and mystic agencies; but his wonder and awe will be mingled with a true spiritual reverence, when he remembers that the Creator is in all and through all, but is infinitely more than all. When this true reverence, founded upon this belief in the moral and spiritual attributes of God,-which belief has its firm ground in the consciousness of sin,— enters into a speculative system, it is changed thereby. All its parts become vitally connected with the moral reason and conscience, and have direct reference to the development and weal of man as a moral being, related to God and eternity; and not merely as a speculative being, who concerns himself solely with what it is possible for him to know, without any reference to what he ought to be. Such, we believe, are some of the influences of the consciousness of sin upon the formation of a philosophical system. They are great and vitally important; for they infuse true life into speculative thought, and free it from those corrosive clements which wither and harden the best part of man. During that immortal dialogue in the death-cell of Socrates, the jailor informs that wisest of the heathen, that if he warms himself into a heat by discussion, the poison will not work effectually in his bodily frame. So, too, if the philosopher infuses into his system, the depth, and distinctness, and truth, and reverence, which arise from the consciousness of sin, the poison of error and unbelief, which has too often and too long circulated through philosophy, will be rendered inoperative, and will be purged out. Philosophy will become a healthy organism, all aglow with vital heat; and the warm life upon the lip, and the radiant beaming of the eye, and the mantling flush of the cheek, will allure the inquirer along the way of truth. TRANSLATORS OF THE ENGLISH BIBLE. Or the forty-seven worthies commissioned by King James to perform this great service, some are almost unknown at this day, though of high repute in their own time. They have left us but little more than their names, made immortal by their connection with this noble monument of learning and piety. But their being associated with so many other scholars and divines of the greatest eminence, is proof that they were then deemed to be fit companions for the brightest lights of the land. This is confirmed by the fact, that, though the king designed to employ in this work the highest and ripest talents in his realm, there were still many men in England of the highest distinction for learning, like Broughton and Bedell, who were not enrolled on the list of translators. It is natural to believe, therefore, that even such as are now less known to us, were then accounted to deserve a place with the best. But the names of those whose studies and histories are accessible to us, form a sample-card which must lead to the highest estimate of the whole body of these good men. The catalogue begins with one whose name is worthy to stand where it does. LANCELOT ANDREWS. He was born at London, in 1565. He was trained chiefly at Merchant Taylor's School, in his native city, till he received an appointment to one of the first Greek Scholarships of Pembroke Hall, in the University of Cambridge. He used to visit his parents once a year, at Easter, and pass a month with them. During this vacation, he would find a master, from whom he could learn some language, to which he was before a stranger. In this way, in the course of time, he acquired most of the modern languages. At the university, he devoted himself chiefly to the Oriental tongues, and to divinity. When he was candidate for a fellowship, there was but one vacancy; and he had a powerful competitor in Dr. Dove, who was afterwards Bishop of Peterboro'. After a long and severe examination, the matter was decided in favor of Andrews. But Dove, though vanquished, proved himself in this trial so fine a scholar, that their college was unwilling to |