IT has long been esteemed a task of some difficulty to lay down the boundaries between Reason and Faith, between Natural and Revealed Religion; and, though much has already been performed on this subject, yet something, perhaps, may still remain to be done, — something which may tend to the support of rational Piety, against the inroads of Enthusiasm on the one part, and Irreligion on the other. By the word RELIGION (I mean, when considered as a science) we usually understand the knowledge of God; of his nature, his character, his dispensations to mankind. This general idea is common to all the parts of religion; it is the manner only of acquiring this knowledge which distinguishes one branch of it from another. Whatever is known of God must be known from his works; but the works of God are of different kinds, and there are different ways of deriving information from them. His usual method of acting is uniform and constant: he governs the world by settled rules, adapted to the great and general ends of creation and providence; but this established course of things is not unalterable: at certain times, and for very important purposes, the Supreme Governor has dispensed with his own laws, and broken that customary chain of causes and effects, which might have appeared to us indissoluble. Now, all the knowledge we can collect from the ordinary course of Nature, is called NATURAL; all that is derived from extraordinary events (such as are apparently opposite to the course of Nature) I call Supernatural, or Revealed. The constant phenomena of Nature leads us to discern God's fixed and general character; the irregular phenomena serve to inform us of some particular dispensations. Directly indeed they prove nothing but power; but indirectly they serve as credentials to a Messenger from Heaven; since we cannot easily conceive how any inferior being should suspend the sacred laws of the univere, without authority from the Supreme. Now whatever messenger is thus authorized to speak to us in God's name, has an undoubted claim to our belief. He is sent to us, on purpose to convey such knowledge as nature alone could not give. The propositions therefore communicated to us in this extraordinary manner, are objects of faith, not of reason. - This may be sufficient to explain the general distinction between the different ways of apprehending religious truths. But it is necessary to consider more minutely how these two operations of mind may consist together, so as not to weaken or interrupt each other, that both our faith may be rational, and yet our reason submit to divine authority. To effect this, 1 propose to lay down some few simple and leading principles; such as, I think, may be applied to every doubtful case. I. The first maxim I have to offer is this, We cannot understand the truth of a proposition, unless we understand its meaning. Words not understood are no objects of faith. Thus, for instance, when a Catholic requires me to believe Transubstantiation, I say he requires an impossibility; for that the terms he uses are without signification. The accidents, we are told, of Bread and Wine remain; the substance only is taken away; and the substance again, not the accidents, of the Body and Blood of Christ is put into its place. Of these two substances, thus divested of their properties, we neither have nor can have the faintest conception. The doctrine then, you see, amounts only to this: -That one unknown and unintelligible substratum is exchanged for another: - a proposition which involves nothing but impenetrable nonsense. The same may be said of many others, maintained by the Romish church; which are unjustly censured for falsehood, when they are only void of mean ing. Doctrines like these, if they may be called by the name of Doctrines, serve only to perplex weak minds, and to expose religion to the contempt of its adversaries. Whatever message comes from God, we receive it with full assurance. But, though we are prepared to assent to it without reserve, we must first understand it. Be the -messenger's credentials ever so strong, yet, if he speak to us in an unknown tongue, nothing that he says can make a part of our belief. Thus far perhaps I may have few opposers; among Protestants I can have none. But the maxim I have laid down extends farther than at first sight it may appear to do; for, in settling the sense of a proposition offered to my belief, I know no medium between understanding it perfectly and not understanding it at all. It happens in many instances that our knowledge is short and limited; but it can never be confused without our own fault. The little we do know we should endeavour to know precisely; for so long as the sense of any one word in a propo |