difficult to make, and in the several steps of which many a thoughtless votary of the world may as in a mirror discover his own image.

The lives of those two remarkable men have evidently proved the possibility, that a literary person of some wealth and influence in society, may pass through life with tolerable comfort, and without much interruption from the experience of that common lot of humanity, that man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward. But how have they, and others resembling them, achieved this mighty feat? Dr. Beattie, in his Essay on Truth, has well accounted for the circumstance, as far as concerns Hume; and what he there says, will apply equally to Gibbon. Those persons who move in a certain sphere of life, may, according to the low tone of morality which prevails in that class of society, almost totally disregard the feelings of others beneath them. If they can stand in the judgement of their equals and superiors, they make little account of the ordinary feelings of the multitude. We well remember hearing with indignation, the cool assertion of a gentleman, that feeling is a prerogative of the higher orders, a privilege to which the working class of mortals ought to make no pretension. A certain almost technical routine of alms-giving, and an occasional exertion of brilliant benevolence, upon some very extraordinary occasion, will obtain for a gentleman, in the judgement of his peers, the credit of highly meritorious tenderness.

But could once these gods of the earth, persuade themselves to descend from their high places of laughter and pleasure, and enter the work-shop and the cottage, not, as they are wont to do, for the sole purpose of domineering and commanding, but in order to feel with the inhabitants, as with those who are formed of like materials with themselves, they would soon discover, that without some solid mental comfort, such as they indeed can afford to dis-regard, the drudgery of common life could not be supported, nor that regular course of things in society be kept going, upon which they themselves depend, as though it sprung spontaneously out of the earth. The mind of man requires the constant stimulus of hope, to be capable of enjoying itself under the monotonous detail of necessary exertions. To the rich and illustrious, the pride of life, or a growing reputation for professional skill, may afford a passable substitute for the true hope of man; but were there no lower class supported by the hope of an hereafter, there could be no higher class, to satisfy themselves with the enjoyments of this life. It is the partial view of things, which men derive from their elevated station of life,

and the hardness of their hearts, which permits them to forget, that the very existence of their comforts, supposes a multitude of their fellow-creatures who want them; it is this state of heart, which prevents them from perceiving the evidence of truth, or even from discovering that a theory of moral sentiments which rests upon their own partial state of feeling, whether that theory be of an affirmative or of a negative nature, cannot be a true one. They feel no want of religion; and therefore they have no interest sufficient, to engage them in an impartial inquiry into its evidences. Did they love their neighbour as themselves, or were they only convinced that they ought to do so, and deeply concerned and dissatisfied with themselves, because they find themselves unable to act up to so equitable a rule; could they once be brought to aspire after that high-toned spirit of fellow-feeling and of universal benevolence, which embraces in its sincere good wishes the whole extent of sensitive being; they would soon find the germe of religion springing up within themselves, and discern that the evidence for the truth of Christianity, is abundantly sufficient to convince any man who possesses genuine tenderness of heart.

The writer of the present article was formerly in the habit of associating with a set of men of a certain description, who being perfectly at their ease, with regard to the comforts of this life, could coolly laugh and sneer at the hopes of the humble Christian, and that in a strain which seemed intended to display their triumph over his understanding as well as his enjoyments. When such scenes have occurred to his recollection, since his conversion to Christianity, they have often reminded him of what is recorded by St. Luke concerning our Saviour. He had been stating with equal truth and strength, the nature of true riches, and the extreme folly of neglecting them for the transient vanities of the present world. "And "the Pharisees also," it is then added, "who were covetous, "heard all these things: and they derided him." How exactly was this mockery in the spirit of our two philosophical historians, more especially of Hume. Had they lived at that period, no doubt they would have joined with the Pharisees, in de riding the blessed Jesus: they do it in fact, by implication, when they at present deride his humble followers.

If so much weight be allowed to what has been said on the subject of belief in general, as to admit the conclusion, that infidelity, or a disbelief of Revelation, has its origin in the native hardness of the human heart, or in that natural state of hardness, confirmed and increased by peculiar circumstances, how comes it, we might ask, that so large a

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proportion of mankind, as that which constitutes the clerical order, appear to make no difficulty of the matter? An unbelieving clergyman is an occurrence which scarcely happens oftener than once or twice in a century. Is it likely, that an entire class of society should be so happy, as to have the natural hardness of their hearts removed by the remedies provided in the Gospel ?-These remedies we shall hereafter treat briefly. And if we should for a moment admit what is so extremely unlikely, how is it, we might then ask, that believing clergymen do not more generally exhibit the true spirit of Christianity in their lives and conversation? Or must we, on the other hand, consider the greater part of that respectable body of men, as hypocrites, who pretend to believe what in fact they do not believe? The question is the more necessary to be satisfactorily answered, since the clergy, for the most part, belong to that higher class of society, in which, as we have already seen, hardheartedness is increased, instead of being diminished, by the peculiar circumstances of their situation.

In order to remove this difficulty, it will only be necessary to observe, that whatever circumstance so affects the heart, as to give to any particular subject that interest which is requisite for the due examination of evidence, will, if the evidence be itself sufficient, enable the man to believe. A clergyman, merely as such, has a temporal interest in the truth of religion; in consequence of which, his heart, though not softened by the grace of God, so as to receive the due impression from religious truth, becomes sufficiently affected by the subject, to give its evidences their proper weight. No wonder therefore, that to men so circumstanced, the belief in revelation becomes easy. But we need scarcely add, that after all, the conviction of a clergyman, merely as such, is not of the same nature with that of an impartial Christian. The difference may indeed be perceived in many ways. We shall notice only one.

As the clergyman is not aware of the bias which hangs upon his heart, and which he derives from his situation in life and his temporal interests, he is apt to consider his view of things, as the only natural one. He has consequently little patience with the unbeliever, and generally attributes his doubts to a wilful and obstinate resistance of the truth, and his statement of those doubts, occasioned perhaps by a sincere desire of information, to a malignant purpose of leading others astray. Hence, the dogmatism of his assertions, and the bigotry which so often influences his judgements on the subject of his deluded fellow-men. We once knew a clergyman, who seriously proposed to his brethren, to consider and treat every

One who doubted the truth of Christianity, as a personal enemy; and who, adjusting his own practice by his rule, whenever he met the writer of this article, at a place of public resort, used to place himself with the back of his chair full in his face. Such conduct is certainly not in the spirit of our religion; yet it was the conduct of one who sincerely believed in the truth of that religion, but then, he believed only clerically, and not as the Scripture requires, with his whole heart. Mere clerical faith, however useful as a political qualification most assuredly neither purifies the heart, nor entitles its possessor to the peace of God here, or the glories of heaven hereafter. Whereas, the true Christian, who has been brought to the knowledge of the truth by a proper change of heart, knowing how his own conviction has been effected, is disposed to shew great patience towards unbelievers. He is well aware, that in his natural state, there is no difference between himself and them; and that the same Divine power by which his own heart has been melted to receive the truth in the love of it, can likewise change the heart of his unhappy brother, whom therefore he rather pities than condemns. Instead of abusing, he prays for him; yet he is ready whenever opportunity serves, both to admonish and to instruct him; but this he does with such a mixture of gentleness and firmness, that if he should fail to convince, his lessons may have no tendency to irritate.

It might appear sufficient, in order to account for the stress which revealed religion lays upon faith, as a praise-worthy act, to have shewn the origin of its contrary in the hardness of the human heart. But we shall farther find, that the same state of heart, which disposes a man to refuse his assent to truth, notwithstanding sufficient evidence, is likewise the source of all other moral evil. This has indeed already been shewn in some measure, in the former steps of our inquiry; since we have seen avowed infidelity connected in its causes with habitual unconcern for the true welfare of others. But, for this connexion of unbelief with wickedness properly so called, we have, besides what has been said on the subject, the clear testimony of our Saviour himself. When, under the imperfect Mosaic dispensation, before the great fountain for sin and uncleanness had been opened in the once crucified but now glorified person of Jesus; when, under these circumstances, God mercifully dispensed in the article of marriage, with exact conformity to his righteous will, so as to allow the practice of divorce under certain restrictions, our Saviour tells us expressly, that from the beginning it was not so, and that this dispensation of divorce, to which, by parity of reason, we may add that of polygamy in general, was granted to men, VOL. V. N. S.

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by reason of the hardness of their hearts. Here, then, we see, that the same disposition of heart, which we have shewn to be the true source of unbelief, is likewise the fruitful source of all the misery and moral evil, which convert a state of life, meant by God to be its greatest solace, into a state of intolerable torment and wretchedness.

But, if we would see with the utmost clearness, how tenderness of heart lays the foundation of whatever is excellent and praise-worthy in human conduct, and of whatever contributes to real happiness, it behoves us to examine the character of the pious King Josiah. Of him we are expressly told, that what pleased God in him, was, that his heart was tender, that he humbled himself before the Lord, when he heard his words against Jerusalem, that he rent his clothes, and that he wept before God. This tenderness of Josiah's heart evidenced itself not merely by some single act of social feeling;-what chiefly discovered it, was, that whatever came from God, made a due impression upon him. By this test let men try their own hearts, and they will soon find that faith in the truths of revelation, is therefore the leading property of human goodness, because it arises from a state of heart, which opens the mental ear to every word which proceedeth out of the mouth of God. If God has indeed spoken unto men, it must be their chief virtue to attend to his voice and the same tenderness of disposition, which bends the intellectual faculties under the evidence of truth, disposes the active powers to obey the precepts of God, to follow after good, and to eschew evil.

One more consideration remains to complete our inquiry into the nature of unbelief. Unbelief is the prevailing disease of human nature. We are all naturally infidels. And, accordingly, when the prophets speak of the blessings of the New Covenant, they describe them as consisting in a total change of heart from a state of hardness to tenderness. And thus, the same tenderness which removes the cause of unbelief, and enables the convert to believe the great mystery of godliness, God manifested in the flesh, at the same time prepares him to take the impression of the Divine commandments. These are then no longer grievous, but pleasant; they constitute no longer a menacing law engraven upon tables of stone; but there is produced a new nature, agreeing with the Divine Will, meekly receiving the ingrafted word, and so growing thereby as with little necessity for outward command, but sufficiently moved by occasional evangelical admonition, to walk or even to run the way of God's commandments with alacrity.