thrones, dominions, principalities, powers, things in heaven and earth; this is my Christ. He that is the Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, the Lord God Almighty. He that was dead and is alive again, and lives for ever. more, and hath the keys of Hell and Death. This is my Christ. The name Christ fills such a man's soul with light and glory, even in that very instant when he believes this Jesus to be the Christ; so as that admitting him into the mind under this notion, it insensibly admits a Deity in his all-comprehending fulness. He doth not believe a trivial thing concerning this Jesus, when he believes him to be the Christ, but believes him to be all in all. This is my all, and the universal all unto whosoever they are that shall come to partake felicity by him at length. This is nothing like the mock faith of the multitude, that think themselves well if off-hand they answer the question when you ask, Is Jesus the Christ? Yes-But they neither know nor consider what Christ means, nor what they attribute to this Jesus, in calling him the Christ."

It is the habit of many to say, that their religious indifference is the result of unbelief, and want of Faith; but they seem not to understand how it is so, and why it is so. It is so of necessity, because the objects of Faith, which the soul requires for her joy and strength, are kept entirely out of mind, or if occasionally thought of, are not placed in the attitude, in which they appear in the Bible. Suppose the soul contemplating Christ, in the method and spirit of the above extract, and any thing but doubt and indifference will be its state. And this is both the how, and the why, that there is such criminal indifference to the life of Faith among professed Christians. The natural consequence of such a state of mind is practical infidelity, living without hope, and emphatically without God in the world. But the conscience will not permit this. The semblance of religion must be kept up to the view of the inner man, and this

is very commonly done by turning the mind in upon itself, and asking the state of the heart, the condition of the affections; as though a Metaphysical Analysis of all possible states of moral feeling, was the preliminary to a belief that God had spoken the truth, and that the truth was to be obeyed. And because this analysis, or exami. nation, usually leads to no definite conclusion, the mind comes short of those lucid results, which are necessary to peace and joy, or to vigorous and purifying obedience. In this point of view, I think "the treatise on Religious Affections," by Mr. Jonathan Edwards, to be of injurions tendency. I am aware of the peculiar circumstances that called for that book. But it seems to be for. gotten, that the state of religious feeling was deemed, by the author himself, to be peculiar, and he wrote it for an exigency. An exigency which, to be sure, the human mind is always liable to, but in no such way as demands a deviation from the method God has given for us to ascertain whether we are true disciples of Jesus Christ—viz. a LIFE OF FAITH ; not a life of examination--a life drawing its vitality from God in Christ, and not from the weak, and wavering, and earthly affections of the human heart. I would not be understood to say, that the Christian duty of self-examination is useless. Far from it, it is in the first degree salutary ; but the examination is to proceed on the assumption, that faith in God is the sustaining power of the Christian, that the way to glorify God is not to be in doubt and uncertainty, but to be so strong in the FAITH as not to stagger at the promise, Rom. iv. 20. The examination is not to find the state of our affections or feelings, and as we happen to find them, rise to joy or sink to despondency. And that for the simple reason that we are not justified by the state of our feelings, but by FAITH-that the strength of our hope lies in Christ, and not in ourselves, and that the glo. rious and ever-living light cometh from above, and not from

within. "Who would ever," said Isabella, in the language of an old divine, "who would ever cast an anchor within the ship to hold it secure? so there cannot be safety found for any soul in itself, but just as it is standing on the rock of ages." How often is this forgotten, and we find one and another speaking of their indifference to religion, their want of feeling, when to an attentive observer, their mind looks only in upon itself, and expects to find peace, and joy, and ardency of affection, while the object, in view of which alone these can exist, is excluded from the contemplation. There is joy in what? looking at the state of the heart? No, in believing, in looking to Jesus and in trusting in him. While the soul turns in upon itself, it may, and it often does examine, and watch, and excite itself to a constant wakefulness, until it shrinks, like the sensitive plant, from duty and from hope. Or perhaps, stung with a sense of spiritual danger, it rolls itself in agony, and calls up the most harrowing and terrifying conceptions of its eternal state. O! when will Christians remember that their life comes not from themselves, but from Christ; and then look, not to their own guiltiness for consolation, but to him, who is the chiefest among ten thousand! When will they keep in memory, that howsoever aggravated may be their guilt, there is but one way of return to God, and that is through Christ!

The readers of Mr. Edwards's work on the "Religious Af. fections," I have usually found in one of two states of mind. Either baffled by its abstract acuteness, and incapable of fully comprehending it, or left in a state of doubt and inquietude respecting their own piety. The doubt sometimes leads to a farther examination of the Word of God, and in that way, a purer and stronger kind of religious feeling is elicited. And thus has the Treatise often been indirectly useful; but, in a majority of cases, the doubts predominate, and the individual believes it impossible for him to acquire

any satisfactory proof, that he is a child of God. And this is precisely the result that should have been anticipated. Who, from sounding the depths of his own heart, and comparing it with the law of God, can presume that he would find ground of hope? How can he, in looking at broken reso. lutions, and ineffectual efforts, and feeble prayers, and in constant feelings, and variable love-how can he build up from such materials a hope that maketh not ashamed? How can he find so much of purity and holiness, as to give him peace? And if he is inquiring how many forms deceptive hope may assume, and in how many ways ill-founded joy may spread itself over the soul, when will he be able to settle the question? and especially, if he is seeking with the acuteness, and the discrimination, and the earnestness of one, who feels that his eternal peace is connected with the decision. There is, literally, no end to the possible states he may not suppose his mind to be in, without being truly a child of God. Does our heavenly Father intend to leave us in this hopeless state? Does he shut us up to such sorrowful contemplations, and overwhelm us in a sea of doubt? And is the liberty of the gospel, only a constant entanglement ? No, I believe it is not; and this Memoir shows it is not. There is peace, and joy, and hope in believing. But it comes from believing, and not from doubt and uncertainty.

Much as I admire, and even reverence the religious character of Brainerd, and the affecting humility of Edwards himself, I think their manner of self-scrutiny, particularly the former, spread too dark a tinge of melancholy over their private religious history. And the same remark is applicable to many of our American specimens of religious biography. Nor do I think, that this is at all accounted for by saying, as has been said of Brainerd, that they were of a melancholy temperament. The fault lay not in a constitutional habit, but in neglecting to fix the eye steadfastly upon the Saviour, as the sole, entire ground of justification. They did not make a false estimate of them.

selves as sinners, but the eye was kept fastened upon their sins, until they rose like mountains shutting out light from their horizon, rather than as lofty and dark eminences, defined and made manifest in the radiant glory of a heavenly Faith. There are exceptions, we are sorry they must be called exceptions, as in the account of William Tennant, the Memoir of Mrs. Graham, and particularly the last days of the late Dr. Payson of Portland. "The Sun of Righteousness," says the latter in a letter dictated to his sister, "has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer; appearing larger and brighter, as he approached; and now he fills the whole hemisphere; pouring forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float, like an insect in the beams of the sun, exulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering with unutterable wonder, why God should thus deign to shine upon a sinful worm. To Mrs. Payson he says, "It seems as if the soul disdained such a narrow prison, and was determined to break through with an Angel's energy, and, I trust, with no small portion of an Angel's feeling, until it mounts on high. It seems as if my soul had found a pair of new wings, and was so eager to try them, that in her fluttering she would rend the fine network of the body in pieces." And what was the foundation of these joys? “I find no satisfaction

in looking at any thing I have done. I want to leave all this behind-it is nothing—and fly to Christ, to be clothed in his righteousness. All my joy comes from looking at him. I have done nothing of myself. It seems as if I had not fought, but Christ had fought for me-I had not run, but Christ had carried me-that I had not worked, but Christ had wrought in me. Christ has done all."

These are the spontaneous feelings of a soul which has learned its utter sinfulness and its infinite weakness, and for its righteousness and its strength, looks only to the Saviour. Here it finds its highest conceptions more than realized; its present hopes, more than gratified, and its lof.