verses, and the vernal scenery in the 29th verse. The striking circumstance is, that no actual change takes place. The difference lies in the feelings of those who witness the events; and to whom, according to their respective characters, the movements which they behold, are either the desperate close, or the delightful opening, of their supreme hopes.

Doubtless, in the substance of this consolation, every good man will have his share. But, if I do not misunderstand the indications of Providence, there never was a time in which wisdom, or the want of it, will tell more for, or against, individuals, than in the probably impending season. In order to be as perfect as God would clearly have us to be, two properties are indispensable-right inclination and wise direction. Right inclination, be it ever so decided, is but the pondus of the moral machine. In order to regular movement, a pendulum must be added; and what is this, but wisdom? that is, a competent and rightly digested knowledge of truth. Our Lord so settles the matter in that short, but infinitely pregnant oracle, "God is a spirit; and they that worship him, must worship him in spirit and in truth." Here we have exactly the pondus and the pendulum; spirit or right inclination, the former; right, or wise direction, the latter.

Now, I own it strikes me, that what has been done hitherto, in ostensible religious movements (church establishments excepted), has had much more to do with right inclination, than wise direc

tion. Sincerity has been tried-fortitude has been called forth-faith and patience have been exercised. But, as yet, there has been little elicitation of wisdom; and, therefore, the pious persons called evangelical at this day, have little, if any more knowledge of truth, than the immediate disciples of John Calvin, or of John Husse, or, I might almost say, than the Waldenses. I speak not this in the way of blame. I humbly conceive the providential training of these persons has led to little more. They have had trials of their strength, but not of their mind. They were called to encounter brute violence, rather than serpentine sophistry. Their sufferings have answered their purpose. Every thing which mere faith and patience could achieve, has been exemplified. But I imagine other trials will be necessary for training to wisdom. And it is this mental dispensation which I suppose now probably about to open.

Divine wisdom has used the blind zeal of superstition (of which intolerance is the certain attendant) for training to fortitude and sincerity. Is it unreasonable to suppose that scepticism and infidelity may now be similarly used for training to wisdom? "Out of the mouth of very babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength, because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger." This, I think, describes the dispensation which has hitherto subsisted every where but in establishments. But the Church must not always be a nursery; even though of infants, which, like the fabled Hercules, strangled serpents

in their cradle. Sagacity must be called forth, as well as sincerity; and the stage must, I humbly conceive, be prepared for the new exercise.

Of the scepticism which will be overruled to this high purpose, I take the present religious unsettledness in England to be a very natural prelude. I am ready to say, what can it end in, but scepticism? while all are contending with the others, none seems to me to know what he himself maintains. And even the contending zeal is, in most instances, strangely mingled with a qualifying spirit, as if each party were conscious of weakness, though it could not be sure of the weak point, and would therefore retouch and re-edify, wherever it could. The dissenters proceed thus, in the "Eclectic Review;" the evangelics, in the "Christian Observer," and their still newer engine, the "British Review." And I am sorry to say that the "British Critic," with the best meaning, has too much of the same erratic character. In opposing Calvinism it seems sometimes to throw away catholic verity.

I suspect all this is but the beginning of troubles, because I see no rallying point in view. Some individuals have more light than others; but there is no master mind to take a powerful lead, and check the aberrations by demonstratively indicating some one sure ground, of which it would be obvious wisdom to take possession.

I know nothing settled, in the whole reformed body, but the Liturgy of the Church of England. I do not add the Articles, not because I have any real quarrel with them, but because they have not, in any respect, the same intrinsic authority.

Their force arises chiefly, if not solely, from convention. They that have subscribed them are bound to them; but, to all others, they are but the sentiments of respectable men themselves, requiring the support of some more authoritative sanction. Not so the Liturgy. This has so stood the test of time, as to bear on its front the stamp of overruling Providence. It is, virtually, the transcript of what the Church has said, in its converse with God, from the very earliest period. It is, verbatim, what the Church has been repeating, without deviation or alteration, from the sixth century. "Lo I am with you alway," said the Great Head; and especially" where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I, in the midst of them." Were these words vainly spoken? Mn YEVOITO! Allow, then, full weight to these words, and conceive the authority now attaching to the solemn forms of converse with this ever-present Patron and King, unaltered by his ever-working, irresistible Providence, through, at the least, twelve centuries; and preserved by nothing but Providence to us, considering the hazards of that crisis which they passed through, in becoming our special inheritance.

In the view of these impressive circumstances, can I estimate our Liturgy as merely human? Does God speak to us only by his wORD? Does he not convey his mind by his WORKS also? And those works, if clear, are surely authoritative. "He," says Bacon," who bringeth in evil things, resisteth the will of God, revealed in his word; and he who bringeth in new things, resisteth the will of God,

revealed in things themselves. Therefore, take counsel of the providence of God, as well as of his word." If this luminous sentiment has any truth in it, to what case could it be applied with the same justice, as to the preserving, to the Catholic Church generally, and the far more wonderful preserving to our Church, in particular, that form of sound words contained in the Liturgy.

Of what, then, is the Liturgy a standard? I hesitate not to say, of doctrine as well as of devotion. It is impossible that any doctrinal article, at once true and important, could be omitted in so copious and so diversified a collection of solemn addresses to God, formed, as they self-evidently were, by some mind, which had studied (we may well believe in the laboratory of experience) both the first elements and most mature results of Christian piety. "Il ne faut pas s'imaginer," says excellent Nicole, "qu'il n'y ait tradition que pour les dogmes speculatifs. Il'y a aussi tradition pour les verités de pratique. Et entre celles-la, il n'y en a point de plus marquée, de plus certaine, ni de plus vivante, que celle des prières." To this (as far as our prayers go) what good man could hesitate to assent? But, if so, must not our entire collection, considering their number and variety, imply a body of practical theology, in which nothing can be wanting, which is material; and along with which, nothing that is contrarious can be legitimately admitted?

Here, then, amid the present war of theological elements, in due subordination to the sole word of God, I fearlessly fix my foot. In the Liturgy, and