find ourselves obliged to ascribe to him an absolute independence upon his Maker. The divine prescience equally militates with the morality of human actions, and the morality of human actions with the divine prescience.

In these and in every similar case, we ought to consider the nature of the subject, and the limited capacity of the human mind; and the duties which we ought to learn from such considerations are, humility and charity. Could we submit to "know in part," the whole affair would be as intelligible as is necessary to our duty and happiness; nor should we indulge ourselves in an uncharitable opinion of those whose sentiments, although they may widely differ from our own, have nothing in them which is decidedly dishonourable to God, or hostile to religion and morality. Should they, however, come under this description, no mistaken notions of charity should deter us from opposing them with determination and zeal.

The reflections of an eminent prelate, upon the controversy existing in his time between the Lutherans and Calvinists, whose practice it was to charge each other with all the odious Consequences, which could be deduced from their respective opinions, are distinguished by so much justice, and bear so immediately upon the present subject, that they well deserve to be brought forward. "He who believes," says the Bishop of Sarum," that an ill consequence is justly drawn from any opinion, is in the right, when he is by that determined against it. But because he thinks he sees that the consequence is clear, and cannot be avoided; he ought not for that to judge so ill of those who hold the opinion, but declare at the same time that they abhor the consequence; that they prevaricate in that declaration; and that they both see the consequence and own it; though for decency's sake they disclaim it. He ought rather to think that either they do not see the consequence, but satisfy themselves with some of those distinctions with which it is avoided; or that though they do see it, yet they look on that only as an objection, which indeed

These

sentiments, with those which follow to the same purpose, are not indeed expressed with the precision requisite upon such a subject; but their general excellence can hardly be denied.

From those subjects, concerning which our defective knowledge excuses us from the necessity of being responsible for the consequences of our opinions, let us now proceed to those, which comparatively lying within the compass of our faculties, will not admit the same liberty.

And here it must be observed, as belonging to the class of consequences justly imputable, that when any person holds an opinion, with a professed denial annexed thereto of that opinion by the influence of which the consequences of the former are counteracted or controled, all the consequences rationally deducible from the opinion which he maintains are justly chargeable upon him. So, if one who holds the doctrine of predestination, denies all liberty in human actions, he cannot in justice escape the imputation, that he roots up the very foundations of morality and responsibility. The same may be said of the doctrine of the necessity of divine grace, when maintained with the same exclusive rigour. Nor are the advocates of human liberty, when they proceed to the same excess, less liable to the rational consequence of their doctrine, which represents man as his own Lord, or his own Saviour.

But there are other cases of responsibility for the consequences of our opinions, besides those in which we impose the necessity upon ourselves. In all those cases, in which the connection between the principle and the consequence under consideration is placed within the province of reason, and is declared by reason to be just, the consequence is justly chargeable, even though it may be disclaimed. But as

* See Exposition of the Articles, Preface, p. xvi. xvii; see, likewise, the Preface to Simeon's Helps to Composition, which breathes the same catholic, rational, and conciliating spirit. It may not be amiss, also, to attend to

the manner in which St. Paul obviates the ob

jected, and not irrational consequences of his doctrine. Rom. iii. 5, 8; vi. 1, Î5; vii, 7.

the whole depends upon the certainty or the probability by which that connection is established, great caution should be used, lest by mistaking a presumptive, or merely plausible argument, for a certainty or probability, as is too commonly the case, we think ourselves at liberty to load an opponent with every opprobious consequence, which can, by such means, be extorted from his opinions. The danger of mistake or abuse, however, does not invalidate the rule proposed; and it is a rule of great importance.

By this rule Cicero was justified in charging atheism upon the principles of Epicurus, though Epicurus did not admit the consequence.*

*

By the same rule we consider ourselves authorized to deny the claim of many writers, especially of modern times, who, from the general wreck of morals, which proceeds from the profligacy of their principles, would except particular virtues; either that they may more effectually recommend those principles, or throw a veil over their deformity.

On the ground that the connection in question is comprehended under the objects of human knowledge, we refuse to admit Voltaire as a theist ; and with equal firmness we deny the pretensions of Middleton, of Priestley, and of Geddes, to the character of believers.

Finally; upon this principle it is, that we are supplied with a ready and a decisive reply to all those audacious propagators of opinions, in their tendency evidently destructive either of religion or social order, who may claim the privilege of not being pressed with the consequences of their tenets; and take sanctuary under that indulgent maxim of philosophical candour which allows them a security from the imputation of any consequences of their principles, however evident, and however dangerous, which they use the precaution formally to disavow.

There are cases, however, of a third description, which demand some consideration. They are properly excep

* Verbis reliquisse deos, re sustulisse. De Nat. Deor. l. i. § 85; see again the same book, 121, and 123.

tions to that which has just been examined. They relate to such consequences as, although justly chargeable upon the principles from which they flow, yet, from a certain defect of understanding, extreme simplicity, inveterate prejudice, and other causes of a like nature, ought not to be urged upon the maintainers of those principles. They are, nevertheless, equally chargeable upon the principles, though not upon the persons holding them. They would be chargeable upon the persons, if these persons were sensible the consequences in question were necessarily deducible from their opinions. And this may be the case, although the consequences may be protested against with much earnestness and solemnity. The exception, however, here made, is absolutely necessary, unless we would contract the mercy of God, without authority.

It is upon this ground that Hooker, in his laboured discourse of Justification, defends the position of which he did not doubt, that "God was merciful to save thousands of our fathers living in popish superstitions, inasmuch as they sinned ignorantly,"* and denied the foundation, not directly, but by consequent.† Consequences being either immediate and evident, or remote and obscure, there remained a charitable hope that their error, being consequential only, might not operate to the exclusion of juster principles, nor deprive them of the mercy of God. J. M.

[The subject discussed by J. M. is one which does not seem to have been carefully weighed by Dr. Kipling, and some other late writers. We therefore recommend to their calm and attentive perusal the above able and judicious disquisition.]

God and man in the work of salvation, concludes that it ought to be laid aside as incorrect and unsafe. To the term itself I have no attachment, and perhaps may never have employed it; yet I confess that I do not see any adequate cause for its proscription.

Let me in the first place, advert to the objections of your correspondent.

The use of the term is stated to be "incorrect." Why? Because "God and man do not work together in the same act, or in the same sort of act;" and because "the work of God, and the work of man, are not coincident as to time." But does the established use of the word, in other instances, require such an union of particulars? When we say that our governors at home, and our fleets and armies abroad, cooperated during the late war, in the preservation of the country, is this language deemed incorrect? I need not accumulate similar examples. On the principle under consideration, unity of place, and a concurrence in a degree of exertion, and in various other circumstances, might equally be declared indispensable to justify, in any case, the use of the word Co-operation.

Farther the term is averred to be unsafe. Why? Because "it tends to mislead the ignorant, and to offend the discerning." I conceive, Sir, that this kind of general reasoning would apply to every theological expression. There is not one which may not be misapplied, and thus mislead the ignorant. As to the offence given to the discerning; if we take offence at the warrantable use of a word, we are defective either in discernment, or in something still more estimable.

I would finally observe, with reference both to the alleged incorrectness and danger in question, that refinement is not duly cautious when it discards a term employed, in the very sense which is obnoxious, by the inspired penmen of the New Testament. Turn to the last verse of the Gospel of St. Mark,

and to the first verse of the sixth chapter of the Second Epistle to the Corinthians (see also ch. v. verse 20;) and you will have too distinct examples of the term co-operation applied to the joint agency of God and man, in the work of human salvation. The original verb, in each instance, (Gʊvegyɛw) is literally and accurately rendered by our English word co-operate.

But it is chiefly, Sir, for the sake of a general principle, that I trouble you with this letter. I wish pious men deeply to consider the importance of shunning every step, which is likely to stir up needless divisions and jealousies among Christians. Nothing makes or upholds a party like a word. The fastidious rejection of one phrase, or the affected use of another, is sufficient. Were the proscription of the term Cooperation, widely and avowedly adopted; numbers, destitute of Onatrama's candour, if they should hear the luckless word from the lips, or detect it in the writings of a brother, however innocent might be his meaning, would speedily set him down as half a here ́ic. I was pleased recently to observe, that, when speaking of the word condition, as applied to good works, you allowed the use of it, when the broad distinction was maintained between an indispensable and a meritorious condition. Yet such is the eagerness of party, that, if a sound divine denominates holiness a condition of salvation, not with the idea that man's holiness pays any part of the price of salvation, but meaning compendiously to express the scriptural truth, that without holiness no man shall see the Lord, he is in danger, I fear, of being treated by many as little better than a Socinian.

Let us employ theological terms accurately, and guard them by requisite explanations. But let us not indulge in ourselves, nor excite or countenance in others, a propensity to take needless offence.

K. R.

9

In a village near town, on the banks of the Thames,

There liv'd a good couple, (I don't tell their names ;)

This pair you must know, had a son they call'd
Ned,

And he to the trade of a grocer was bred;
As good-humour'd a fellow as ever I knew,
And in honour and honesty equall'd by few.
At church he was constant, and always well
drest,

And of all the psalm singers 'twas thought he sang best.

Ned's person was neat, and his manners polite, So the shop was well-crowded from morning to night.

His master, who drew near the end of his life, Had determined to give him his daughter to wife :

And Nancy was pretty and good, and 'tis said, Had long look'd with an eye of affection on Ned.

About this time, it happen'd, some Jacobin folk

Form'd a club at the sign of King Charles in the Oak,

(I do firmly believe that most of them there, Would have wish'd him, like Absalom, hung

by the hair)

To drink and to smoke, and of politics prate, And, tho' drunken themselves, to take care of the state;

For tho' times were so bad, and provisions so dear,

Their newspapers cost them six guineas a year.

Of this club a young fellow named Jack was the head,

A clerk to a lawyer, next neighbour to Ned; For his wit and his humour admir'd and caress'd,

Tho' his morals and conduct were none of the best:

Tried to coax and to wheedle him into the set: By what arts he prevail'd, 'twould be tedious to tell, suffice it to say, he succeeded too well. Soon a wonderful change this new company made,

He neglected his church, and neglected his

trade:

Swore the nation was in the high road to He quickly became a deep politician, perdition;

Was eager to find out the faults of the throne, The lords and the commons, but never his

own.

He first learnt to omit, then to ridicule prayer, To laugh at his Bible, to drink, and to swear. So alter'd he was, you would scarce think it true,

'Twas the same honest good-humour'd Ned that you knew.

His master, in anger, declared they must part,

And Nancy's pale face told the grief of her

heart.

His parents reprov'd him again and again,
But reproof and advice were repeated in vain;
At times his convictions and sorrow were
deep,

But a song or a bumper laid concience to sleep,

While the feelings of virtue still left were repress'd

By the dread of a laugh, or an infidel jest. How many a soul has been ruin'd thro' fear, A bravo tow'rds God, tho' afraid of a sneer!

The party were met on a Saturday night, They had pretty well drunk, and their spirits were light,

When Jack thus harrangu'd them-" Before we must move,

I've a plan to propose, which I think you'll

must go,

Bu in conscience I could not, in such kind of weather,

Sit pent in a pew for whole hours together, To hear a long prosing from one who, the fact is,

Will preach by the hour, what he never will practice.

I don't blame the parson-he's paid for the day

But I think those are fools who hear without pay"

Jack's speech was receiv'd with a gen'ral applause,

His jokes were all wit, and his sentiments laws.

The rest of the party agreed with delight, The plan was arrang'd, and they parted that night;

In the morning betimes they assembled again, The boat was prepared, and they set sail at ten.

The church-bell now summoned the parish to prayer,

Ned heard, and he sigh'd, and he long'd to be

"Nay, prithee," quoth Jack, "make an end of such cant,

I had rather by half hear a methodist rant. Don't you know that for all men these church. goers pray,

Who travel by land or by water to-day?

So we're pray'd for by Christians of every station,

By the parson, the clerk, and the whole congregation:

And if, after this any accident come, These saints might as well spend their sabbath at home.

Ev'ry Sunday that's fine, I go the year round, And you see, master Ned, I have never been drown'd.

But if sometimes it happen, why, tell me, I pray,

Of all days in the year, it should happen today?

Christ. Observ. No. 12.

His part in this general chorus of praise, And the wonders of nature will louder applaud,

When he traces her steps to her Maker and
God,

But frigid and tasteless, the infidel's mind
Is not form'd to partake in a joy so refined;
Tho' his idol is nature, her power is unknown,
The blind worshipper bows to a stock or a
stone.

Our party ne'er meddled with this train of thinking,

Their thoughts were engaged about eating and drinking;

For the high hill of Richmond was full in

their view,

And they soon reach'd the bridge, where they landed at two.

They made haste to the inn, where they'd settled to dine,

I forget tho' I once heard, the name of the sign.

From the landlord they met with a welcome most hearty,

When he saw his friend Jack at the head of the party.

"These, "says Jack, "are some friends whom I've promised to treat,

You can give us, I hope, a good dinner to eat."

"I'll provide," says the landlord, "the best I am able,

A fine sirloin of beef, just fit for the table; It was dress'd for ourselves, but 'tis your's if

you please,

Tho' my wife and my children must eat bread and cheese.

5 H