wonder in the beholder, when the adornings of the walls, the speaking pictures, the lifelike statues; when the superbly rich and exquisitely tasteful paraphernalia of the chapels and altars attract the eyes and allure the imagination of those who enter, and lead them to forget in a contemplation of the works of man, the Creator and Governor of the universe, they have usurped a place to which they hold no valid title, and cease to answer their designed purpose in the economy of religion; the means are made superior to the end, the shadow has become the substance, the blossoms are chosen instead of the fruit. The general rule then is, the external must be kept subservient to the internal, and employed just so far and no farther than it promotes the spiritual welfare of the worshipper. In applying this rule, it will be found that some nations, some ages of the world, and some states of society, require a larger infusion of the external element than others. Man is sometimes denominated a demigod. But it is a title which, in his pride and vain aspiring, he assumes to himself. By nature he is ever an animal; and, in his native state, a savage animal. Hence we call the infancy of human society a savage state. In this condition, the mind is but slightly developed, and is mainly brought into subjection to the body. A religion adapted to such a state, must possess a larger share of the outward element than would be necessary for a community in which the grand object was to cultivate and polish the mind. Hence, when God gave a religion to his ancient covenant people, it was more encumbered with ceremonial observances than the system which they, in after times, became prepared to receive. Not many generations passed away, before the old system was found to be exceedingly burdensome, so that in the times of the gospel an inspired apostle, speaking of the ancient system, told the Jews of his day that neither they nor their fathers were able to bear its numberless ceremonials. And yet, no doubt, it was the system precisely adapted to the age and nation to which it was given, and admirably fitted to usher in a better order of things; it was the day-star which precedes the morning, the harbinger of that system which is emphatically a dispensation of the Spirit. And in this late age of the world, neither all the nations nor smaller communities are alike in mental culture and advancement. And hence some need more of the external element than others. They must all be taught the great duties of repentance towards God and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. But all teaching must, of necessity, be given through the medium of outward signs and symbols. And some need much more of the illustrative, the figure and type, to obtain and retain the thought than do others. The progress of the art of communicating ideas by symbols, aptly illustrates the progress of re

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ligion in its struggles to emancipate itself from the contracting and burdensome influence of outward ceremonies. Just as mankind first communicated with each other only by rude pictures, then by hieroglyphics, using a circle for eternity, an eye for knowledge, etc., and afterwards advanced to the use of arbitrary marks for simple sounds, and a combination of these marks for words denoting objects; so the altar with its bleeding victim was first employed to teach that a spiritual sacrifice is needed for sin; afterwards, the cross conveyed to the mind the idea of that sacrifice; and, as mankind became more intellectual, they needed only the written page to learn the plan of atoning love. No fixed amount of each element can then be taken and a system of religion formed, which will answer for all ages and nations. Under the tendencies to which the world is subject, we hope the time will come when such a result will be. Under the influences at work to elevate the race, we rationally anticipate such a unity. Under the promises of the book of prophecy, we confidently wait for it, a time when the watchmen shall see eye to eye, and all shall know the Lord. But as the world now is, there will be and must be differences of religious systems, arising from the different proportion in which the two elements are combined. With some denominations, there will be more of form in the religious services than with others; and the only safe rule to be given or followed is, let each one proportion his form inversely to his intellectual advancement; let him receive just so much of the form as will most essentially aid in the cultivation of the graces of the spirit; let him have enough of the form to give life and freshness to the spirit; but let not the spirit be overwhelmed with religious ceremonials. Let the green fields enjoy the showers of the sky, but let them not be flooded with water.

Though these two elements ought to live together in perfect unity, the one, like the foot to the head, sweetly subject to the other, yet the external has ever been aspiring to the highest place and, like the ocean on the land, trenching on its limits. The flesh has lusted against the spirit, and they have lived together in perpetual warfare. In the garden of Eden, the external soon gained the mastery over the internal, and faith yielded to sight. And under the Jewish economy, a constant conflict was carried on between the spiritual service of Jehovah and Jewish formalism at one time, and pagan idolatry at another. The Israelites were ever prone to forget that anything more was required by God than the mere outward observances of the law, and to degenerate into mere legalists. They made clean the outside of the cup and platter, but neglected the weightier matters of truth, charity, and love of God. And when legalism had gained the ascendancy, the downward step

from that to idolatry was often short and easy. And so they exchanged the God seen by faith, and felt in the heart, for material gods, which they could see with their eyes and feel with their hands. And when the Messiah appeared and brought the spiritual element more distinctly before the men of his generation, it encountered the most violent and virulent resistance from the legalism of his Jewish brethren and the idolatry of the pagan world. It made progress among men only as it fought its way through seas of blood, and tracked its course with the corpses of its martyred teachers. He knew well that so it would be; and, anticipating the conflict, he said, "I came not to send peace upon the earth, but a sword." He understood the nature of the religion he propagated. He knew that it elevated the spirit to the chief place in its regard, and made the outward form a matter of comparatively trifling import. And when he sent out his religion to displace the ritual observances of his countrymen, and the grosser superstitions of heathenism, he forewarned its first propagators that it would meet with the most strenuous opposition from bigoted Jews and superstitious pagans. Both would resist and reject it, the one regarding it a falsehood and the other a folly; to the Jews it would be a stumbling-block, and to the Greeks foolishness; but to all who received it, it would be found a divinely constituted and effectual mode of saving men by purifying their spirits. Though the religion of Jesus, a religion of faith and love, continued to spread till it overran the whole known world, yet by the gradual decline of the spiritual element, it soon lost its chief life and glory. Despoiled of its spirituality, it degenerated into a religion of sight. It abounded in pictures, crosses, images, beads, incense, tapers, processions, relics, vows, prayers and penances. It made confession to a man, who is seen, and sought pardon from him rather than from an unseen God. It had idolatry without its name, the worship of saints instead of heroes, and the virgin Mary instead of the Ephesian Diana. Its spiritual element was stifled under a mass of external observances, which were accounted absolutely necessary and amply sufficient for the soul's salvation. This state of things continued for centuries, while the dark ages with their thick clouds of error, and dense fogs of superstition, hung like the curtains of night, over the groping church. There were, indeed, occasional lights, cheering the darkness; but, for the most part, they shot their feeble rays only a short distance into the murky night around them. They were concealed in unfrequented vallies and mountain fastnesses, inclosed in monasteries, immured in dungeons, or dimmed by the prejudices and delusions of the age, and soon expired, leaving the darkness only the more dense and palpable. The

1849.] - Reason of the Conflict of the two Elements.

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spiritual element was expelled from the church and mourned in solitary exile. Religion being in such a state, the church evidently needed a regeneration. It is always so when the spiritual element loses its proper place and is overlooked or forgotten. But though driven out of the church by men, it was not forgotten or forsaken by God. He still kept his eye upon it, and determined to give it an honorable resurrection. He raised up Wickliff, Jerome of Prague, and John Huss, the morning-stars, which foretokened a bright and happy day. They brought the great principles of faith and love again to light, and set them in conflict with the pomp and circumstance of a worse than valueless religion. The light began to come in contact with the darkness. And if, in such cases, the fire can only be maintained, the issue of the encounter does not long remain dubious. And a wise Providence raised up a workman, in the dauntless and indefatigable Luther, to minister combustibles and fan the flame. He did the work. He held up to view the living principles of the Christian religion, and proclaimed in the ears of the people the supremacy of faith to form, of the inward to the outward purification. The struggle was one of life and death, and the battle long and fierce. But the truth, which had been so long crushed to the earth, rose again elastic as air and active as the inherent energies of nature. It fought and conquered; we mean where it had a fair field of conflict. There were regions to which it never came; there were States and nations which shut it out and forbade its entrance. In these places it had no fair field of combat, and of course won no laurels. But wherever the conflict was fair and open, a conflict of doctrine with doctrine and argument with argument, there truth invariably triumphed. The enemy was, indeed, driven slowly and reluctantly from the field; some of her outposts and fortresses continued, and still continue, to hold their ground. But for Protestantism, the main battle was then fought and the grand victory won; and Spiritualism has since been disposed to assert her rights where they were withheld, and extend her authority over the world. The contest is still going forward. And it will continue till she has completed her triumphs and seated herself queen upon the throne. Then will begin the second reign of Christ on earth. His kingdom will be set up among men; a kingdom, as he himself said, not of this world, not consisting in a civil government and temporal authority, sustained by outward force, but a spiritual kingdom, under moral law, and upheld by the powerful motives of reason, conscience, justice, and love; a support of far more efficacy than judicial tribunals or armaments of war.

It may very naturally be asked, "Why is it that these two elements

have never lived in peace, each one occupying its own place, and so consulting the general good?" To this question the answer is plain and easy. It is because the spiritual element, as it exists in human. hearts, is always imperfect. As religion is ever an individual concern, so this conflict is personal as well as general. It is carried on in every human bosom; and before the whole church can become externalized, its individual members must be brought into subjection to the law of the flesh. The process is natural, the spontaneous working of sin in the human heart. It is always easier to perform merely the external acts of devotion, than to perform them accompanied also with the inward affection. It is always easier to pray with the mouth alone, than with the mouth and heart together. It is easier to present the body, than the body and spirit both, before God, before God in his sanctuary. It is easier to build temples and support the public ministrations of the gospel, than to keep the heart a pure temple, and offer in it the constant sacrifice of a meek and quiet spirit, of higher price in the sight of God than gold and gems. We mean it is so while sin dwells in us. It requires less thought, and mental application, and energy of will, and sacrifice of feeling, and humility, and zeal, and love. And therefore the outward act is less liable to be neglected than the inward. And when the external act has been performed, selfish as we are, we naturally wish to believe that we have done our whole duty. And so we are fain to call the outward the principal thing, and the inward the secondary; the outward, the body, substantial; and the inward, the mere shadow. We pray and worship like the Pharisee, and then please ourselves with the delusion that our service is as acceptable to God as that of the publican. We imagine that God accounts outward morality, or good works, of more value than right affections; that he would have sacrifice, and not mercy; the formal service, rather than the spirit of devotion; and we substitute those acts which are only the probable evidence of holiness, for holiness itself, and baptize them with its name. And we then perform them, not as the spontaneous promptings of a holy heart, but as good in themselves, pleasing in the sight of God, and meriting salvation. In this way, form begins the conflict in the mind of the individual, and carries it on, till it gradually usurps the place of faith. And as spirituality declines and piety grows cold, mere formalists are introduced into the church; and thus the church itself, by degrees, loses its vitality and becomes a dead body, possessed, it may be, of outward form and comeliness, but destitute of a living soul within. Such is the downhill process of ruin. It is facile and rapid. This course the early Christian church gradually run. This course many branches