faith. We are to controul our passions; to cut off and pluck out our evil desires; to cultivate every good and proper affection; to run the race of virtue, "not" (was the reservation even of an apostle)" not as though I had already "not attained, either were already perfect; but this one thing I "do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching "forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the "mark for the prize of the high calling which is in Jesus.” Yet this arduous race, this gradual, this difficult progress, respecting his success in which, even with all his life and all his powers devoted to the object, the chief of the apostles himself speaks with hesitation and humility-this race, this progress-the defenders of the doctrine, which we are discussing, contend-can be successfully run in a moment; and that, even in the weakness and distraction of the dying hour, a man may speed from the farthest recesses of vice, and, without a single struggle with his fellow racers, gain completely and at once, "the prize of the high calling which "is in Jesus." The answer to all this is brief. Calvinism it may be, but it is not Christianity. We have said, that a death-bed repentance, or a thorough alteration of the mind of man in the space of a moment is morally impossible. The expression is, we are aware, a strong one; but on this subject we scarcely see how we can limit it. Miraculous interposition we have no right to expect; not only has it now ceased altogether, but it never was, and probably never will be, used in producing any instantaneous or super-natural effect upon the human mind. That it was thus used by Jesus and his apostles, is, we are persuaded, altogether a mistaken and unfounded idea. The mind of man, his intellect and character, appear to be wholly formed by his natural and constitutional organization, as operated upon by the circumstances in which he has been placed the habits which he has formed-the passions which he has indulged-and the thoughts and feelings which have passed through and occupied his mind, These form the man. What they have made him, he is; what they have not created, he cannot be; what they have not prepared within him, others cannot cause-himself cannot form; life cannot produce, death cannot create. Sudden affliction, or any other sufficient cause, may, indeed, arouse a vicious man to as sudden a sense of his own depravity; nay, more, it may produce a strong, an uncontrolable determination, that his steps shall turn towards the paths of peace and virtue :--but this is only determination; and 66 much, very much will remain yet to do. They only, who have achieved it, will know the difficulties and the impediments in the way of such a task. It was not in a moment that the prodigal awoke to a sense of his degraded state, and even when he had arisen, he had yet to go from where he was," in a far country," before he could reach his fathers house. If cut off, therefore, by sudden, or unlooked-for death, let us not say, that repentance and reformation are but the work of a moment. We may, indeed, when pleasures are no longer within our reach, when passion can no more be indulged, and when the world is fading from our view, we may then, indeed, feel-earnestly and bitterly feel the emptiness of our past pursuits, and wish-anxiously wish that our days had been employed on more substantial objects: but this is not repentance; or, even if repentance, this is not virtue. The man remains the same. All he can, he has, perhaps, done; but he cannot perform the work of years within the compass of a moment. Death has no magical influence. It strikes down, but it cannot raise up. Excellent, indeed, was the counsel of the wise man, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might, for there is no works, nor device, nor knowledge, nor "wisdom, in the grave where thou goest." This is the language of reason, and it stands confirmed by the principles of revelation. All rational views of a future state teach us, that we shall be raised the same beings as we sink into the grave; with the same passions, the same feelings, the same vices, or virtues. "As the tree falleth so it will lie;" and so again it will grow and become re-animate. How false then, how absurd, nay, how wicked are doctrines which flatter the sloth natural to the human mind, when freed from the controul of virtue and true religion; and which have, at least, an indirect effect in favour of vice, by inducing men to defer to a distant and uncertain hour, and that perhaps an hour when reason shall desert them, the difficult task of repentance of heart and perfection of character. It well becomes every lover, not merely of rational religion, but of the human race, to bear his testimony against the diffusion of such pernicious and dangerous errors; and, above all, it is incumbent on us to guard youth against their demoralizing effects. Virtue and perfection of character, are points of difficult attainment. Like health, they are to be gained by exercise and exertion alone; to attain them is the object for which we are brought into being. To induce a man, therefore, either by open arguments, or by indirect principles, to defer the business of his life to the last moment of his existence, is more wicked, because the stake is a larger one, than to persuade him to hazard the means of his subsistence at the gaming table, instead of cultivating habits of regular and persevering industry. Virtue, again, we say, is a difficult task; but therein lies the excellence of those who attain to it. To the mind rightly disposed, and which is acted on by right motives, the task will not continue to be difficult. The labour itself will become sweet, and the reward the most delightful that can visit and exalt the human bosom. But it is to be attained only by constant and unremitting exertions. It is the food of the mind; and, such is the condition of mortality, it is to be earned by the sweat of the brow. Religion-rational religion-affords the best means of its attainment. Such is the constitution of the human mind, which always acts with a view to self-interest and under the operation of motives, that solid excellence of character is, perhaps, impossible of attainment without the hopes and the aids held out by revelation. Here it is that rational views of religion possess an infinite superiority over superstition and fanaticism. It is in this point of view that opinions-that "modes of faith," become matters of serious and pre-eminent importance: and that, whilst apparently employed on subjects of mere theory and speculation, we may, in fact, be discussing questions of the greatest practical importance to mankind. Those only, who have made the experiment will know how difficult, even with the best intentions, is the even and undeviating course of truth and principle. When every other palliative of vice fails us, we deceive ourselves by procrastinating the task of virtue. "The thing we can't but purpose, we postpone." Fanaticism, as we have seen, gives a direct encouragement to this postponement :-rational religion condemns and reprobates it. It warns us of the delusiveness of our own hearts, the weakness of our own resolves; it exhorts us to be instant in season and out of season in the work of excellence; it tells us, that now is the appointed day in which we must prepare for eternity, for that" the night cometh in "which no man can work." Taking a correct view of the human character, we here learn, that excellence and perfection are plants of slow and gradual growth. That he who looks to an instantaneous yet perfect change of his mind and character, is depending on that which is improbable in the extreme, if not morally impossible in its nature. Repentance, with the view we have been taking, becomes a rational and sensible thing; it is a turning from the path of vice or folly, with a strong and over-powering feeling of sorrow and regret that we should have weakly degraded our being and disobeyed our Maker, by giving ourselves up the slaves of crime or passion. Conversion is no longer the mysterious and supernatural work of a heated or perverted imagination, but an alteration of the heart, the life, and the principles. It is the prudent conduct of a wise man who turns from misery to happiness, from the paths of destruction to the ways of eternal life. Virtue and religion are no longer considered as peculiarly appropriated to old age; their profession is no longer postponed to the last hour, to the parting scene of our existence. Why should religion be postponed to old age and to the hour of death? Because religion is gloomy, the fanatic might reply; because it forbids the enjoyments of life; because, in short, it teaches man selfishness, cruelty, and hypocrisy. Such a religion it is, indeed, well to postpone to the latest hour, and it might be better to dispense with it altogether. But if religion consist, as the writings of the New Testament teach us it does, in the right formation of the mind and the improvement of the character; if it seek the true happiness of man, by controlling his passions and directing his affections; if it be " the power of God," to emancipate us from the thraldom of vice, and the " wisdom of God" to provide for the happiness of his creatures here and hereafter; if this be religion, and if the growth and influence of it upon the human heart be regular and progressive, then, surely, youth, and not old age, is the appropriate hour for its adoption, and our whole life, not our death-bed, the fitting scene for it exercise. Reader! reflect then! Remember the often quoted and still neglected language of the poet Be wise to day! 'tis madness to defer; ON RELIGIOUS WORSHIP.-ESSAY V. THE JEWISH TEMPLE. "What is man? Where must he find his Maker? with what rites 'Tis Revelation satisfies all doubts."-Cowper's Task, Book II. OUR last Essay (vol. i. p. 321) was directed to prove, that the practice of public social, or joint prayer was not instituted by Moses, or afterwards, by divine direction, introduced into the TABERNACLE worship. In pursuance of the plan of argument previously laid down, (see vol. i. p. 215) we have now to inquire, Whether or not that practice was introduced into, or formed a part of, the TEMPLE worship? All, or nearly all, that we have said respecting the tabernacle, equally applies to the temple worship. The tabernacle was a tent-the temple a palace; the one a, temporary-the other a stable abode; each being successively chosen as the place of deposit for the ark, in which the children of Israel regarded Jehovah, their God and King, as being miraculously present. Each, therefore, was the seat or centre of both political government and religious worship. Within each Jehovah was, consequently, consulted by the priest, the judge, or the ruler; before each, sacrifices or offerings were made, and, in or towards each, the prayers or petitions of the people were allowed to be presented to their God and King. It is in the last of these respects, that the Jewish temple becomes connected with our present inquiry. Was the authorised prayer of that temple joint or separate?—was it individual or social? These are the questions which remain for solution in the course of the present Essay. Amongst the advocates of social prayer there exists. the greatest possible difference of opinion on this point; some positively asserting that the prayer of the Jewish temple was joint or social, whilst others as positively deny the fact. This very difference of opinion tends, to say the least, to throw considerable doubt on the affirmative of |