felt in our congregations. The views of many are modified by its impulsive and directive power. It is a source of restless disquietude and arbitrary fickleness; and when it does not rudely refuse, it unwillingly offers respect and courtesy to social or mental superiority.

This scepticism of the popular mind is in direct antagonism to the devotional spirit. The one is a worshipper of intellect, as it exists in man; the other adores it, as it is existent in God. The one presumptuously relies on the force of reason; the other is sobered by a consciousness of its weakness. The one has human nature as its centre of attraction; the other the uncreated Author of the universe. The one muses most deeply on that which is material and visible; the other on the spiritual and the eternal. The one is familiar with conceptions that exalt its pride; the other with ideas that deepen its humility. The one burns incense at its own shrine; the other bows meekly before the altar of God. The one exalts the secular interests of man; the other the moral and the spiritual. The one regards religion as designed to aid him in obtaining physical enjoyment; the other as ordained to raise him to perfection and happiness in heaven. The former smiles on the Gospel only as it is subordinate to social and political interests; the latter feels it more precious, when the heart is rent by the storms of life, or is agitated by the mysterious gloom which shadows the sepulchre.

The sceptical spirit is, we think, strikingly egotistical; nor, when professing zeal for the public good, is it free from a sable selfishness, which estimates every thing as it ministers to its gratification. As our congregations are influenced remotely by this temper, we may expect to find a spiritual selfishness existing in their piety. Religion is more regarded as the source of happiness to man, than as the means of glorifying God. Human nature is the object of pious contemplation, more than the Divine. The serious mind dwells too much on itself. It has a tremulous anxiety about all its little wants and cares, rather than an elevating sympathy with the mind of God. Religion is constrained to minister to human necessity, more than to make man a ministering spirit before the throne of the Eternal. The celestial visitant is made to utter the language of earth, rather than to teach man to speak the language of heaven. The incarnation of Jesus is hailed, as it brings "good-will to man ;" but the soul does not become instinctively ennobled by the thought that it brings "glory to God." From this state of mind, our people enter the sanctuary thinking more about themselves than God; more of salvation than of Christ. The service is valued in proportion as it produces agreeable excitement, or spiritual consolation. They come not to feel penitential humility in the presence of the Lord, but to have every anxiety quieted; not to be roused to action, but to gain repose of mind; not to learn the sacrifices they must make for Christ, but to be refreshed only by the

exhibition of the cross he bore for them. Divine ordinances are viewed as seasons of holy comfort, more than as the appointed times when God is to be devoutly and solemnly worshipped. The pious mind, thus reflecting on itself, limits its vision to the little sphere of its individual interests; and when its own wants are satisfied, too frequently its prayers are ended.

It will not require many observations to show that this selfish form of piety is not friendly to a high state of devotional feeling in Divine service. The worship of the angels appears free from this leaven of selfish contemplation. God is ever present to their minds; he is the theme of their songs, and the source of their harmonies. Their happiness does not spring from an eternal thinking about themselves; but from a constant contemplation of the Divine Majesty. The most perfect example of the devotional spirit in connexion with our nature -that of our Lord-was free from the characteristic in question. His mind was ever self-forgetful. At twelve years of age, he was sitting in the midst of the doctors, "hearing them, and asking them questions," but it was because he "must be about his Father's business." His meat was "to do the will of Him that sent him, and to finish his work." "Glorify thy name," was his prayer, when his soul was troubled by thoughts of his approaching passion. His own repose was forgotten, in his intense desire to honour the Father; and he became unconscious of hunger, thirst and toil, to give to man the bread of life. The deepest sources of piety spring from such going out of ourselves, and having "our conversation in heaven." As it is physically injurious to be continually thinking about all the possible ailments of the body; as it is destructive of energy of character to be constantly dwelling on the difficulties and sorrows of life; so the soul attains not the more eminent forms of piety, when its attention is constantly fixed upon itself; when its spiritual life consists in a nervous watching of every alteration in thought and feeling; when the great object of pursuit is a sense of comfort; when soul-prosperity is regarded as subsisting in inward quietness; and when public worship is regarded, chiefly, as the means of ministering to this spiritual selfishness. It is a feeble, or a morbid, rather than a healthy or a high-toned piety, that is thus perpetually self-reflective. Let it not be supposed that we undervalue self-knowledge, or would disregard the pulsations of the inward life; but we would not have the Christian to be unceasingly revolving in the circle of his own spiritual sensations. A mind clinging to this form of experimental piety, will have but contracted views of the genius and scope of the Gospel: it has not worshipped in the holiest, or seen the wings of the cherubim; and has yet to be penetrated by the higher truths, and to be transfigured by the sublimer visions of our holy religion. As it has not ascended the mount, or urged the petition "show me thy glory," it feels not the trembling-it knows not the

bliss, of those who have "seen the Lord." As a consequence, it will be a stranger to high devotion. That will come upon it, as the dovelike form descended upon Jesus, when it enters on a nobler service than ministering to its own spiritual quietness or consolation. light will shine upon it, when it looks beyond itself; sees the burning bush as when it stood by Horeb; and seeks that fellowship which brings the soul into a mystical union with God. It will become ardent from meditations on Christ; from profound musings on the mystery of his incarnation; from watching with him through the night of his passion; from converse with him in those realms which are illumined by his glory; from enlarged charity towards the universal church; and from the spirit of self-oblivion, gained by frequently contemplating the agonies of the crucifixion.

Further, we venture to suggest, that the religion of the present day is too exclusively doctrinal. Whitefield and his companions in toil, confined their ministry, chiefly, to two great truths, namely, justification by faith, and the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit. Of course they enlarged on other topics, but these were cardinal points, and were stated strongly in almost every sermon. In thus acting, there was more than human wisdom; there was Divine direction. It was the want of the age. The church of England offered, as the means of salvation, her liturgies, creeds, and sacraments; and the dissenters showed the world how formal and frigid, orthodox piety could become ; and gave painful illustrations of the ease with which the mind could slide from a cold belief of the truth, into a dogmatic championship of error. For a century, the great doctrines mentioned above have been preached with energy, fidelity, and success. They are now rooted in the convictions and affections of the Congregational body. No confessor of the faith, no martyred saint, could have more solemn convictions of the essential value of these doctrines than ourselves. They rank with the highest truths of revelation, and shine among the brightest lights in the spiritual firmament. But we think that we should advance decidedly beyond them, and furnish more comprehensive instruction to the church of Christ. Her high calling requires that she should rise to the possession of a pure and sublime holiness. We should be unfaithful to our convictions, if we admitted that she now wears the spiritual diadem, which her gracious Saviour is willing to bestow. And as the truth is the instrument of sanctification, the great lessons connected with the subject should be continually and vigorously set before her. That church, also, has a great work to do— to win the world to Christ. This she must do by the beauty of her spiritual character; the sweetness of her Christian spirit; the moral dignity of her bearing in the midst of every "crooked and perverse generation;" the impressive spectacle of her sublime virtues; the force of her resistless persuasion; and the costliness of her willing

oblations. Having pointed her to the cross as the means of her salvation, we must point her to the world, as the scene of her toils, her sufferings, and her sacrifices and she must become arrayed before the world, in the spirit and power of Christ, ere her work will be accomplished, or her redemption completed. She has, then, other great lessons to learn beyond those which are immediately connected with her introduction to the spiritual life.

Christianity may be regarded as a science, and in this view, truth; doctrine will be its substance, and intellectual conviction will constitute its reception. It may be viewed as a principle,-and love, springing from its Divine source, will be that principle, communicating vital energy to the soul, as the ground and motive of action. It may be regarded as a moral law, and its precepts constitute the statutes of its Divine Author. In our judgment, the religion of the present day is most in agreement with the first of these particulars. There exists a more forcible and practical sense of the duty to believe the Gospel, than to sustain in the heart that charity which "thinketh no evil.” That part of the Gospel which is to be credited by the understanding is largely illustrated and more generally received: that part which requires the homage of the affections and life to the laws of Christ, is less powerfully and impressively felt. We do not advocate less thought; we rather plead for a more thorough intelligence; but the most urgent and immediate want is, that the heart should be deeply imbued with the spirit of Jesus. What a fountain of feeling that heart is! What grandeur it reveals in its affections; what energy lies infolded in its passions; what a noble enthusiasm it can display, where its love or its pity is awakened! And is it not capable of a still greater depth and compass of emotion, when derived from so rich a source as the love and the death of Christ? But while Christians are content with low attainments in the Divine life, a feeble devotional spirit is sufficient to sustain them in their course. Were it otherwise,-did they solemnly feel that each hour they must walk in the Spirit, and live after the example of their Redeemer-the heart governed by benignant affections, and the life pure, benevolent, and self-denying,-they would see the need of a deeply devout spirit; they would be impressed with the necessity, strong as a law of nature, for the glow of spiritual feeling, a moral purity of taste, a vivid perception of the "beauty of holiness;" a heart, every fibre of which should throb with a gracious vitality, and a mind deriving from the cross its highest principles and its richest affections. Such a state of mind requires and implies the existence of the devotional spirit, in its thrilling and heavenly emotions.

Another characteristic of the age, which, we think, is unfavourable to the devout emotions, is its worldliness. We quote again from the same distinguished writer. "On what, after all, are the main energies of this restlessness spent? On property-on wealth. High and low,

rich and poor, are running the race of accumulation. Property is the prize for which all strain their nerves, and the vast majority compass, in some measure, this end." "The worst sign is, the chaining down of almost all the minds of a community to low perishable interests. It is a sad thought, that the infinite energies of the soul have no higher end than to cover the back and fill the belly, and keep caste in society. A few nerves, hardly visible on the surface of the tongue, create most of the endless stir around us. Undoubtedly, eating and drinking, dressing, house-building, and caste-keeping, are matters not to be despised; most of them are essential: but surely life has a higher use than to adorn this body which is so soon to be wrapped in grave-clothes, than to keep warm and flowing the blood which is so soon to be cold and stagnant in the tomb. I rejoice in the boundless activity of the age, and I expect much of it to be given to our outward wants. But over all this activity there should preside the great idea of that which is alone ourselves, of our inward spiritual nature, of the thinking immortal soul,—of our supreme good, our chief end, which is to bring out, cultivate, and perfect our highest powers, to become wise, holy, disinterested, noble beings, to unite ourselves to God by love and adoration, and to revere his image in his children. The vast activity of this age of which I have spoken, is too much confined to the sensual and material to gain, and pleasure, and show. Could this activity be swayed and purified by a noble aim, not a single comfort of life would be retrenched, whilst its beauty, and grace, and interest would be unspeakably increased."

These observations, we think, will gain the assent of thoughtful minds, accustomed to reflect on what is passing around them. This is an age of chivalry, but it does knightly service on behalf of mammon. The church partakes of this spirit; a thirst for riches burns in the bosom of Christians. In this respect there is little distinction between them and the men of the world. Both are exhausting their energies in acquiring wealth, are unsatisfied with present possessions, display a similar magnificence, have the same ambition to aggrandise their families, and are enslaved by the same spirit of accumulation. Many Christian men have not that moral dignity, and that high-toned religion, which are content with an humbler home and less expensive habits than their worldly neighbours in equal circumstances. The smile of the world charms, and is more influential than the example and approbation of Christ. The heart covets a magnificent worldliness, more than the moral grandeur of a life adorned by the spiritual beauty and the majestic humility of the Lord Jesus. There are many admirable exceptions; but this worldly spirit exists in our congregations to an extent that may burden the devout mind with many painful thoughts. It is an inspiration of evil, and must be cast out of the church, before