sition of the import of its terms. The thing said to be affirmed by law, in relation to the question, is, that no unbaptised believer shall celebrate the Lord's supper. There could be no difficulty in embodying that in express terms. Example might have been found in the law of Moses, where the positive law concerning the passover is-"No uncircumcised person shall eat thereof." How great the surprise and distress of an inquirer must be, when, being promised express law, he is detained by fervid declamation, concerning what has never been doubted the sacred importance of positive laws, and the matchless guilt of those who neglect or impugn them! He knows that a special pleader, anxious to secure conviction on insufficient evidence, could not do better than to work on the veneration of the jury by proclaiming the majesty of law, or on their fears by depicting the crimes and miseries that follow the violation of it. If, however, they were wise men they would say, "Point out the statute, and show the evidence of its violation." We are, indeed, referred to the commission given by our Lord-" Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations, baptising them," &c. Here, however, the Lord's Supper is not even named: how, then, can it furnish express law to decide who shall or shall not partake of it? Of course the assumption is, that, as three things are enjoined in certain order, so they must be observed in that order, or not at all. But we still ask, has the lawgiver said so? If not, it is a contradiction in terms to speak of positive law, and absolute silence on the same point. Mr Howell says:-"The order of the duties is as imperative as the duties themselves." That is to say, a thing not mentioned in the statute is as much enjoined as that which is. Mr H. may think so, and say so, but neither his thought nor his word impresses us as a law of Christ. This he tacitly confesses by endeavouring to prove his position by argument. Well! a positive law of Christ evolved from a human argument! We have not time to expose the fallacy of the argument itself; but, granting it were of the best, who would not shudder at the idea of setting it forth as a divine law? The sacredness of positive laws! It is just because we feel their sacredness that we protest against the dicta and reasonings of the best of men being confounded with them. But the argument itself is an absurdity. Its basis is, that faith, baptism, and the Lord's supper are inseparably

connected-that he who has not attended to the second must not attend to the third. The connexion is, at least, as certain backward as forward. It would be as logical to conclude, therefore, that if men have not been baptised they ought not to believe. The next step is easyto allege that there is a positive law requiring all pædobaptists to become infidels. The decalogue enjoined the Jews to revere the

Divine name, to keep the Sabbath, and to honour their parents. A son of Abraham might have affirmed :-" The order of the duties is as imperative as the duties themselves ;" and, as my neighbour will not observe the Sabbath, he must be encouraged to disobey his parents, and blaspheme his God. There would be only another step his impiety could take, and that is, to declare he had the sanction of positive law. It is not only our duty, but our privilege, to interpret what is obscure in the revealed will of Christ; but even there we should never imagine ourselves infallible. The commission enjoins teaching, baptism, and the observance of all Christian ordinances. Some men infer, from this, that if the second duty is not discharged, the third must not be allowed. The inference may be true, or not; but to dignify it with the name, and claim for it the homage, of express law, is as presumptuous as it is absurd. To proceed on this ground to arraign and condemn Christian men, as guilty of setting at nought divine law, is a stretch of ecclesiastical assumption which may be rivalled, but hardly surpassed, at Rome.

It is further assumed, that strict communion is enforced by the example and constitution of the primitive churches; that none but baptised believers celebrated the supper then; and, therefore, none but such should do now. But we are not certain of the fact alleged. Whatever specific difference there may have been between John's baptism and Christian baptism, we are persuaded that many would not regard the former as valid now; and hence it is highly probable that some celebrated the supper whom many baptists would consider unbaptised. Nothing short of explicit declaration in the New Testament, could infallibly assure us. It is an inference of human reason that all primitive communionists were baptised; but it is vainly pretended that this is the same thing as a foundation of divine authority for strict communion. But, if the fact be assumed, it has no force except on the ground that whatever the primitive churches were and did, we should be and do. But this rule the strict communionists do not obey, and could not, if they would. It will apply with equal force to every particular of church order; and if men may or must diverge in one point, the liberty or the necessity will suffice for twenty others. It may gratify vanity, but it does not indicate much discernment, to imagine that baptist churches are exact copies of the apostolic model. The contrast between the two is much more striking than the similarity. The distinction of the former was Christian," at once catholic and spiritual; that of the latter is "Baptist," equally restrictive and ceremonial. They included all recognised Christians; these exclude the great majority. They never knew more than one community, even in the largest cities

-even where there were thousands of members: these jostle against each other as numerous, small, and often hostile factions in the smallest towns. They had several pastors, admitted persons immediately on an avowal of their faith, and celebrated the communion frequently, in public and private: these retain a single pastor; test candidates by a long and painful ordeal, and break bread generally once a month. The independency of the one recognised the legislative superiority of the church at Jerusalem, and the right of every believer to immediate and full communion with his brethren in every place, while it lived in ready co-operation and all-trusting love with all who called on the name of Christ that of the other is mainly known by its isolation, and suspicion, and repulsion. This contrast, combined with the fallacy that primitive example, whether practicable or not, is binding now, has originated the vagaries of Plymouthism; but, though it does not require a crusade for the recovery of long-lost primitive usages, it ought to check the arrogance which requires all Christendom to become what we are, or consigns them to perdition if they do not. Mr Howell, indeed, professes himself willing to recognise as Christians, and to unite in Christian worship with those with whom he will not commune at the table of the Lord. We have not yet been able to find apostolical precedent for such a course. It will not be alleged that the apostles did so. How, then, does Mr Howell dare to venture such action? Certainly, primitive usage is as opposed to recognising a man as a Christian with whom you will not commune, as it is to communing with a man who has not been baptised. But, from of old it has been so; when early customs appear to favour a present practice, they are proclaimed and applauded-when it is otherwise, they are derided or forgotten.

But the secret of the practical power, exerted by most religious systems, must not be sought mainly in the cleverness and cogency of their logical proof. Nay, the latter may indicate the inverse proportion of the former; for where the intellect is least satisfied, there is the greater opportunity and necessity for the assistance of the passions. We need not be surprised, that men pertinaciously adhere to a practice utterly devoid of reason or scriptural authority, if it does but commend itself to the more general and powerful of our moral feelings. These are the locks of the giant, which invest him with hidden and incalculable might. Hence, where arguments are utterly wanting, confidence is sometimes greatest. Some of the most dogmatical and persevering in all communities, are those who have never had the will, nor the power, to examine their evidence. It is reasonable to suppose that

strict communion is not without these friendly alliances: let us strive to estimate their number and influence.

Strict communion flatters and pampers the lust of spiritual power. Mr Howell shows, with superfluous elaboration, that his doctrine has extensively prevailed since the days of Augustine. One supposed badge and instrument of spiritual power, very early awakened the ambition and sanctified the tyranny of the church-namely, “ the keys." Men have never pretended to wield an authority in religion, which they did not profess to have derived from Christ, and substantially they have never asked for more, than to open and shut the gates of heaven in his name. Baptism was early the sign or the seal of admission into the church. The right to administer it was soon conceded exclusively to the priesthood. The sign and the thing signified were confounded together. It was believed men were not only declared, but made Christians by their baptism. Thus the gates of heaven fell into human custody. Nor was scripture wanting, or slighted; the passage about "the keys" proved it all. Thus no one was a Christian, who had not been baptised; and it was a profanation of sacred things to allow him to commune with Christians when living, or to slumber with them when dead. At the Reformation much of this arrogance was rebuked and silenced; yet the more tangible and profitable part of the tyranny was retained. It was plainly blasphemous, and withal dangerous, to keep charge of the invisible world: it was less perilous, and more agreeable, to hold the keys of the visible church. The greater part of the nonconformists were not entirely free from the taint of clerical usurpation. The Baptists went furthest in their abandonment of it; but even they could not relinquish all. Their baptism was their distinction, the true copy of apostolic law and usage, and was conferred only on professed believers. It might not be robbed of its significance and worth—it was made the passport to communion. An act performed by a sinful mortal, is to give a brother worm status and claim in the house of God. The grace of God, and the blood of the Redeemer, may have fitted him for heaven; but it requires the perfecting hand of man, to "make him meet" for the fellowship of his brethren upon earth! So far as the strict communionist is consistent with his principles, his main distinction is that of “a ruler and a judge." He holds the keys, and never forgets the symbols and burden of his office. His eye must be on his neighbour's conduct, rather than on his own; he is more occupied with enforcing obedience, than yielding it. Doubtless, he alleges and feels that his functions are executive, and not legislative. He only acts for Christ;

but this, which is intended as the defence of the system, is really its greatest evil. Power is not less gratifying to our vanity, or less dangerous to our friends, because it is exercised solely in the name of Christ. Persecutors have often acted from the conviction that they were "doing God service." The Bishop of Rome pretends to nothing more than the vicegerent's place. Alexander did not deify himself, except at the bidding of the gods. If they, who presided at the Inquisition, referred to the authority and honour of Christ, as the rule and reason of their decisions, can we expect less from those who repel acknowledged brethren from the table of the Lord? No power is so unconsciously assumed, or so tenaciously held, as that which interferes with another man's religion. Nothing but the tiara ever surmounted the crown. In the Vatican and the conventicle, spiritual despotism is defended by the same arguments, and fraught with the same dangers.

Strict communion furnishes a conspicuous and stimulating sign; one easily seen and naturally followed. The Jews required a sign, namely, a proof of Christ's commission. That of which we now speak is of the nature of a signal, by which men are called; or a standard, around which they rally. The love of signs is deep in the human heart. The pageant, the race, the contest, the battle-field, and the homes of royalty, would be incomplete without them. The infant waves its tiny flag with joy, and aristocracy must have its coat of arms. Heraldry is a large science. Our Master did not condemn or despise these signs. He intended to form a party, and gave them their insignia. They were to be as conspicuous as a "city on a hill." Their distinctions were to contrast with the follies, and condemn the crimes, of the world. Holiness and love were, however, the only signs by which they were to be drawn to each other and separated from the world. These were safe standards. The enemy could not imitate them. The disciples could not love them too much, or display them too clearly. They bring no glory to man-they give it all to God. But it is hard for human nature to content itself with these. Hence, all those terms, "Catholic," "Episcopal," "Congregational," "Baptist," deal merely with the externals of religion. It requires no superlative measure of thoughtfulness or grace to catch and echo them. It is a harder thing to attain to eminence in charity and faith. Nothing is wanting but a loud voice to secure attention in a debate; but mere charity must be very heavenly to win sufficient notice and applause to satisfy even a moderate vanity. It is one thing to prove our discipleship to Christ by the fervour of our love to the brethren; and another, to repeat the Shibboleth of a party. Millions will carry the crucifix, where not one will bear the cross. It is not only cheerfully, but confidently