4. One of my strongest objections was based on the 109th Psalm. This Psalm contains strong expressions of revenge and hatred towards the enemy of the Psalmist. The answer to this objection is,

1. That the Psalmist is not set up as our great example, and that his utterances are not given as the highest manifestation of goodness.

2. The Psalms are exceedingly instructive and interesting, and must have been of immense value, both as a means of comfort and improvement, to those to whom they were first given; but the perfection of divine revelation was yet to come. The Psalms are of incalculable value still, but they are not our standard of the highest virtue. John the Baptist was greater, higher, better than the Psalmist; yet the least of the followers of Jesus is higher than he.

3. But thirdly; we must not conclude that the feelings and expressions of the Psalmist were wicked, merely because they fell short of the highest Christian virtue. 'Revenge,' says one of our wisest men, 'is a wild kind of justice;' but it is justice notwithstanding, when called forth by real and grievous wrong. It is goodness, though not goodness of the highest kind. It is virtue, though not perfect Christian virtue. And the revenge of the Psalmist was provoked by wrong of the most grievous description. Read the account of the matter given in the Psalm itself. 'Hold not thy peace, O God of my praise; for the mouth of the wicked and the mouth of the deceitful are opened against me: they have spoken against me with a lying tongue. They compassed me about also with words of hatred; and fought against me without a cause. For my love they are my adversaries: but I give myself unto prayer. And they have rewarded me evil for good, and hatred for my love.' This was injustice, ingratitude, cruelty of the most grievous kind. And these wrongs had been continued till his health and strength wore reduced to the lowest point. 'I am gone,' says he, 'like the shadow when it declineth. My knees are weak; my flesh faileth; so that when men look at me, they shake their heads.'

And a similar cause is assigned for the revengeful expressions in the 69th Psalm. There we find the persecuted Psalmist saying, "They that hate me, and would destroy me, are my enemies wrongfully, and they are many and mighty. Then I restored that which I took not away. For thy sake have I borne reproach: the reproaches of them that reproached thee are fallen upon me. I was the song of the drunkards. Reproach hath broken my heart; and I am full of heaviness: and I looked for some one to take pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but none appeared." Thus the men that wronged and tormented the Psalmist were enemies to God and goodness, as well as to himself.

We know that the virtue of the injured and tormented Psalmist was not the virtue of the Gospel; but it was virtue. It was the virtue of the law. And the law was holy, just, and good, so far as it went. If the resentment of the Psalmist had been cherished against some good or innocent man, it would have been wicked; as it was, it was righteous. True, if the Psalmist had lived under the better and brighter dispensation of Christianity, he would neither have felt the reproaches heaped on him so keenly, nor moaned under them so piteously, nor resented them so warmly. He might then have learned

"To hate the sin with all his heart, And still the sinner love."

He might have counted reproach and persecution matters for joy and gladness. And instead of calling for vengeance on his enemies, he might have cried, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." But the Psalmist did not live under the dispensation of the Gospel. He lived under a system which, good as it was, made nothing perfect. And he acted in accordance with that system. And the intelligent Christian, and the enlightened lover of the Bible, will not be ashamed either of the Psalmist, or of the Book which gives us the instructive and interesting revelations of his experience.

5. Another of my objections to the Bible was grounded on the statement, that God visits the iniquities of the fathers on the children. But it is a fact, first, that children do suffer through the sins of their fathers. The children of drunkards, thieves, profligates, all suffer through the misdoings of their parents. It is also a fact, that men generally suffer through the misdoings of their fellow-men. We all suffer through the vices of our neighbors and countrymen. The sins of idlers, spendthrifts, misers, drunkards, gluttons, bigots, persecutors, tyrants, thieves, murderers, corrupt politicians, and sinners of every kind, are in this sense visited on us all. And we derive advantages on the other hand from the virtues of the good. And it would be a strange world, if no one could help or hurt another. It is better things are as they are. The advantages we receive from the good, tend to draw us to imitate their virtues. The sufferings entailed on us by the bad, tend to deter us from their vices.

And so it is with parents and children. Children are specially prone to imitate their parents. If they never suffered from the evil ways of their parents, they would be in danger of walking in those ways themselves for ever. When they suffer keenly from their parents' misdoings, there is ground to hope that they will themselves do better. I have known persons who were made teetotalers through the sufferings brought on them by the drunkenness of their fathers. And on the other hand; the blessings entailed on children by the virtue of their parents, tend to draw them to goodness. And I have known fathers, who would venture on evil deeds when they thought only of the suffering they might bring on themselves, who have been staggered, and have shrunk from their contemplated crimes, when they have thought of the ruin they might bring on their children. And where is the good parent who is not more powerfully stimulated to virtue and piety by thoughts of the blessings which he may secure thereby to his offspring? The whole arrangement, by which our conduct is made to entail good or evil on others, and by which the conduct of others is made to entail good or evil on us, tends to engage us all more earnestly in the war with evil, and to make us labor more zealously for the promotion of knowledge and righteousness among all mankind.

6. Another of my objections to the Bible was based on those passages which represent God as causing men to do bad deeds. Joseph tells his brethren, that it was not they, but God, who sent him into Egypt. David says, 'Let Shimei curse; for God hath bidden him.' Of course, the words of men like Joseph and David are not always the words of God. But Jesus Himself speaks of Judas as appointed or destined to his deed of treachery. What can we make of such passages? Does God make men wicked, or cause them to sin? We answer, No. How is it then? We answer, What God does is this: when men have made themselves wicked, He turns their wickedness to good account, by causing it to show itself in some particular way rather than in some other. God did not make the brethren of Joseph envious and malicious; but he caused their envy and malice to induce them to sell their brother into Egypt, rather than to kill him and throw him into a pit. The wickedness was their own; the particular turn given to it was of God. God did not make Shimei a base, bad man; but Shimei having become base and bad, God chose that his villany should spend itself on David, rather than on some other person. God did not make Judas a thief and a traitor; but Judas having made himself so, God so places him, that his avarice, his dishonesty and his treachery shall minister to the accomplishment of a great beneficent design. God did not teach the spirits that deceived Ahab to lie; but those spirits having given themselves to lying, God chose that they should practise their illusions on Ahab rather than on others. God did not make Pharaoh mean or tyrannical; but Pharaoh having become so, God chooses to employ his evil dispositions in bringing about remarkable displays of His power. God does not make politicians corrupt; but politicians having become corrupt, God chooses to place them in positions in which they can rob, and torment, and dishonor us, and so incite us to labor more zealously for the Christianization of our country. A man becomes a thief, and says, I will rob John Brown to-night. And he places himself in the way along which he expects John Brown to pass, and prepares himself for his deed of plunder. But God does not wish to have John Brown robbed; so He arranges that David Jones, a man whom he wishes to be relieved of his money, shall pass that way, and the thief robs him. The dishonesty is the thief's own, but it is God that determines the party on whom it shall be practised.

I have a bull-dog that would worry a certain animal, if I would take it where the animal is feeding. But I choose to bring it in view of another animal which I wish to be destroyed, and he worries that. I do not make the bull-dog savage; but I use his savagery for a good purpose, instead of letting him gratify it for an evil one. This view of things explains a multitude of difficult passages of Scripture, and enables us to see wisdom and goodness in many of God's doings, in which we might otherwise fancy we saw injustice and inconsistency.

I have not time to answer all my old objections to the Bible, advanced in the Berg debate, nor have I time to answer any of them at full length: but I have answered the principal ones; and the answers given are a fair sample of what might be given to all the objections.

As for the objections grounded on little contradictions, on matters of little or no moment, they require no answer. Whether the contradictions are real or only apparent, and whether they originated with copyists, translators, or the original human authors of the Books in which they are found, it is not worth our while to inquire. They do not detract from the worth of the Bible one particle, nor are they inconsistent with its claims to a super-human origin.

And so with regard to the expressions scattered up and down the Scriptures in reference to natural things, which are supposed to be inconsistent with the teachings of modern science. They are, in our view, of no moment whatever. Men writing or speaking under divine impulse, with a view to the promotion of religion or righteousness, would be sure, when they alluded to natural things, to speak of them according to the ideas of their times. Their geography, their astronomy, and even their historical traditions, would be those of the people among whom they lived. Their spirit, their aim, would be holy and divine.

Nor have we any reason to wish it should be otherwise. Nor had our old theologians ever any right, or Scriptural authority, for saying it was, or that it ought to be, otherwise. To us it is a pleasure and an advantage to have a record of the ideas, of the first rude guesses, of our early ancestors, with regard to the wonders and mysteries of the universe, and of the events of 'the far backward and abyss of time.' It comforts us, and it makes us thankful, to see from what small and blundering beginnings our numberless volumes of science have sprung. And it comforts us, and makes us thankful, to see how the first faint streaks of spiritual and moral light, that fell on our race, gradually increased, till at length the day-spring and the morning dawned, and then the full bright light of the Sun of Righteousness brought the effulgence of the Perfect Day.

And here perhaps may be the place for a few additional remarks on Divine inspiration.

We may observe, in the first place, that a man moved to speak by the Holy Spirit, will, of course, speak for holiness. His aim will be the promotion of true religiousness, and this will be seen in all he says. He may not be a good scholar. He may not speak in a superhuman style. His reasoning may not be in strict accordance with the logic of the schools. His dialect may be unpolished. He may betray a lack of acquaintance with modern science. He may not be perfect even in his knowledge of religion and virtue. But he will show a godly spirit. The aim and tendency of all he says will be to do good, to promote righteousness and true holiness.

And so if a man be moved to write by the Holy Spirit, there will be an influence favorable to holiness in all he writes. His object will be good. If he be a scholar, he will unconsciously show his learning; if he be a man of science, he may show his science. If he be ignorant of science, his ignorance may show itself. The Spirit of Holiness will neither remove his ignorance nor conceal it: it will not make him talk like a learned man or a philosopher; but it will make him talk like a saint, like a servant of God, and a friend of man. His writings will breathe the spirit and show the love of holiness, and a tendency to all goodness.

And these are just the qualities we see in the Bible. It breathes a holy spirit. It tends to promote holiness. The writers were not all equally advanced in holiness; hence there is a difference in their writings. They were not alike in their mental constitutions or their natural endowments. They were not equal in learning, or in a knowledge of nature, or in general culture. They differed almost endlessly. And their writings differ in like manner. But they all tend to holiness. Some of the writers were poets, and their writings are poetical. Others were not poets, and their writings are prose. The poets were not all equal. Some of them were very good poets, and their writings are full of beauty, sublimity and power. Others of them were inferior poets, and their compositions are more coarse, or more formal. Some of the writers were shepherds or herdsmen, and their writings are rough and homely. Some of them were princes and nobles, scholars and philosophers, and their writings are richer and more polished. Some of them were mere clerks and chroniclers, and their writings are dry and common-place; others were fervid, powerful geniuses, and their works are full of fire and originality. Their thoughts startle you. Their words warm you. They are spirit and life. All the writers show their natural qualities and tempers. All exhibit the defects of their learning and philosophy. All write like men,—like men of the age, and of the rank, and of the profession, and of the country, to which they belong. They write, in many respects, like other men. The thing that distinguished them is, a spirit of holiness; a regard, a zeal, for God and righteousness, and for the instruction and welfare of mankind. In their devotion to God and goodness they are all alike, though not all equal; but in other respects they differ almost endlessly. In their devotion to God and goodness, they are unlike the mass of pagan worldly writers, but not so unlike them in every other respect.

The divine inspiration of the sacred writers, or their wondrous zeal for righteousness, is hardly a matter for dispute. It is a simple, plain, palpable matter of fact. We see it on almost every page of their writings. We feel it in almost every sentence.

Take the account of Creation in Genesis. No one could have written that document under the influence of an ungodly or unholy spirit. It speaks throughout with the utmost reverence of God. It represents Him as acting from the best and noblest feeling. He works, not for His own interest or honor, but solely for the purpose of diffusing happiness. He not only does the greatest, the best, the noblest things, but He does them with a hearty good will. Every now and then He stops to examine His works, and is delighted to find that everything is good. It is plain He meant them to be good. He creates countless multitudes of happy beings, and does it all from impulses of His own generous nature. All living things are made to be happy, and all nature is made and adapted to minister to their happiness. And when at length He has completed His works, crowning all with the creation of man, He looks on all again, and with evident satisfaction and delight, declares them all very good.

Read the account of His creation of man. "And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him, male and female created he them. And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth. And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat. And to every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and to everything that creepeth upon the earth, wherein there is life, I have given every green herb for meat: and it was so. And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day." There can be no mistake as to the spirit and disposition of the Great Being whom we see working, and hear speaking, in this passage. Everything savors of pure and boundless love.

1. He makes man male and female, that they may have the comfort and advantages of society, and of love and friendship in their highest, holiest, and most intimate form.

2. Then He makes them in His own image, which, whatever else it may mean, means ungrudging and unbounded goodness on His part. There can be nothing higher, greater, better, happier than God. To make man in His own image, and to appoint him, so far as possible, to a like position, and a like lot with Himself, was the grandest display of goodness possible.

3. And He gives the man and woman dominion over every living thing,—makes them, next to Himself, lords of the universe. And He blesses them, speaks to them sweet good words; and His blessing maketh rich and adds no sorrow. He encourages them to be fruitful; to multiply, and replenish the earth, and to subdue it,—to turn it ever more to their advantage. He in effect places all things at their disposal; every green herb, bearing seed, and every tree yielding fruit, is given to them for food; and they are at the same time given for food to every beast of the field, and to every fowl of the air, and to everything that creepeth on the face of the earth. A richer, sweeter story,—a story of more cheerful, generous liberality,—a picture more creditable or honorable to God, one cannot imagine.

And the story is all of a piece. There is not a jar in it from first to last. Its consistency is complete. Whatever else may be said of the author of this account, it is certain that he was moved by a Holy Spirit, that he had the loftiest and worthiest views of God, and that he loved Him with all his heart and soul. He believed in a good and holy God, and in a good and holy life.

I say nothing about the harmony or discord between this account of Creation, and the facts of Geographical, Astronomical, or Geological science. I do not trouble myself about such matters. To me it is a question of no importance or concern whatever. And I have no trouble about the interpretation of the story.

It wants no interpretation. It is as plain as the light. And I take it in its simple, obvious, literal, natural sense. I keep to the old-fashioned meaning—the meaning generally given to it before the disputes about Geology and Astronomy seemed to render a new and unnatural one necessary. The days of the story are natural days, and the nights are natural nights. The length of each of the six days was the same as that of the Sabbath day. The seven days made an ordinary week. The first verse does not refer to a Creation previous to the week in which man was made. It is a statement of the work of Creation in general, of which the verses following give the particulars. All the work that is spoken of was believed by the writer to have been begun and ended in six ordinary natural days.

As to whether the story be literally or scientifically correct or not, I do not care to inquire. I am satisfied that it is the result of divine inspiration—that he who wrote it or spoke it was moved by the Holy Spirit. The Spirit of truth, of love, of purity, of holiness pervades it from beginning to end. It does justice to God; it bears benignly on man; it favors all goodness. I see, I feel the blessed Spirit in every line, and I want no more.

We are told that there are two accounts of Creation, and that on some points they differ from each other. For anything I know this may be the case. But one thing is certain, they do not differ in the views they give of God or of His objects. They both represent Him as a being not only of almighty power and infinite wisdom, but of pure, unsullied, boundless generosity. In truth, the only impulse to Creation that presents itself is, the natural, spontaneous goodness of the Creator. And on some points the manifestations of God's love and purity, of His righteousness and holiness, are more full and striking in the second account than in the first. God's desire for the social happiness of man comes out more fully. Man, according to this second account, is made previous to woman, and permitted for a time to experience the sense of comparative loneliness. He is left to look through the orders of inferior creatures, in search of a mate, and permitted to feel, for a moment, the sense of disappointment. At length he is cast into a deep and quiet sleep, and when he awakes, his mate, his counterpart, an exact answer to his wants, his cravings, perfect in her loveliness, stands before his eyes, and fills his soul with love and ecstacy. Marriage is instituted in its purest and highest form. The law of marriage is proclaimed, which is just, and good, and holy in the highest degree. Provision is made for the comfort and welfare of the new-created pair. Their home is a paradise, or garden of delights; their task is to dress it and to keep it. Their life is love. The general law under which they are placed is made known to them, and they are graciously warned against transgression. The law is the perfection of wisdom and generosity. It allows them an all but unlimited liberty of indulgence. They may eat of the fruit of every tree in the garden but one. Indulgence must have its limits somewhere, or there could be no virtue, and without virtue there could be no true happiness.

Law, trial, and temptation are all essential to virtue and righteousness. Here they are all supplied; supplied so far as we can see, in their best and most considerate forms. No law is given to the lower animals. No self-denial is required of them. They are incapable of virtue or righteousness, and are therefore left lawless. A child left to himself would bring his mother to shame; a man left to himself would rush headlong to destruction. But birds and beasts do best when left to themselves, or when left to the law in their own natures. Their instincts, or God's own impulses, urge them ever in the right direction, and secure to them the kind and amount of happiness they are capable of enjoying. They are incapable of virtue, so they are made incapable of vice. They cannot share the highest pleasures; they shall not be exposed therefore to the bitterest pains. Man is capable of both virtue and vice, and he must either rise to the one or sink to the other. He cannot stay midway with the lower animals. Man must be happy or miserable in a way of his own; he cannot have the portion of the brute. He must either be the happiest or the most miserable creature on earth. He must either dwell in a paradise, or writhe in a purgatory. He must either live in happy fellowship with God, or languish and die beneath his frown. And in the nature of things, the possibility of one implies liability to the other. This is man's greatness, and bliss, and glory, that he is capable of righteousness; capable of fellowship, unity, with God; and capable of progress, improvement, without limits, of life without end, and of happiness without bounds.

All this, which is the perfection of true philosophy, the sum of all true wisdom and knowledge, is presented in the most striking, astounding, and intelligible form in this second, or supplementary account of creation. Duty is defined in the clearest manner. It is enjoined in the plainest terms. The results of transgression are foretold with all fidelity. The great principle is revealed that righteousness is life and happiness, and that sin is misery and death. And man is left to his choice.

Here we have the substance, the elements, of all knowledge, of all law, of all duty, of all retribution. We have the principles of the divine government. We have the substance of all history. We have in substance, the lessons, the warnings, the counsels, the encouragements, the prophecies and revelations of all times and of all worlds. The tendency of the whole story is to make us feel that righteousness is the one great, unchanging and eternal good; and that sin, unchecked indulgence, is the one great, eternal, and unchanging curse. The spirit of the story, its drift, its aim, is holiness from first to last. The writer is moved throughout by the Holy Spirit—the Spirit of truth and righteousness—the Spirit of God. We see it, we feel it, in every part. We want no proof of the fact in the shape of miracle; the proof is in the story itself. It is not a matter of dispute; it is a matter of plain unquestionable fact. And that the story is essentially, morally, and eternally true, is proved by all the events of history, by all the facts of consciousness, and by the laws and constitution of universal nature.

And in the history of man's first sin as here given, and in the account of its effects, and in the conduct of God to the sinning pair, I find, not the monster fictions of an immoral and blasphemous theology, but the most important elements of moral, religious, and physical science. And instead of feeling tempted to ridicule the document, I am constrained to gaze on it with the highest admiration and the profoundest reverence for its amazing wisdom.

As to whether the account of the creation of the man and the woman, and the story of the forbidden fruit, and of the serpent, and of the tree of life, are to be taken literally or allegorically, I have no concern at present. My sole concern with it is that of a Christian teacher and moralist. The only question with me is: 'Is it divinely inspired? Does the writer speak as a man moved by the Holy Spirit? Is it the tendency of the story to make men lawless, recklessly self-indulgent, regardless of God and duty; or is it the tendency of the story to make men fear God and work righteousness?' And that is a question answered by the story itself. On other matters the author writes as a man of his age and country; on this, the only matter of importance, he writes as a man moved by the Spirit of God.

And what I say of the accounts of Creation, I say of the history of Cain and Abel, of Enoch and Job, of Noah and the Flood, of Abraham and Lot, of Moses and his laws, and of the Hebrews and their history, of the Psalms and Proverbs, of the Prophets and Apostles. All have one aim and tendency; all make for righteousness. The writers are all moved by one Spirit—the Spirit of holiness.

With the exception of the Book called Solomon's Song, and some other unimportant portions of the Bible, the Scriptures all bear unquestionable marks, are full from Genesis to Revelations, of proofs indubitable, that they are the products of divine inspiration; that their authors wrote as they were moved by the Holy Spirit. Whatever their rank or profession, whatever their position or education, whatever their age or country, whatever their particular views on matters of learning or science, the sacred writers all speak as men under holy, heavenly influences, and their writings, however they may differ in style, or size, or other respects, are all, "profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness: that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works."

16. I have been asked why I do not publish a refutation of my former reasonings one by one, and a full explanation and defence of my present views. I answer, my only reason for not doing this, so far as it is really desirable, is a want of time. I did something in this line in my Review. I have done a little more in my lectures on the Bible and on Faith and Science, and I hope, in time, to do more.

17. I have been asked again, why I shun discussion on the subject. I answer, I have never done so. When those who invite me to lecture wish me to allow discussion, I comply with their wishes. I agreed to a public discussion at Northampton; but the person who was to have met me drew back. Again, if any one really wishes to discuss with me, he can do so through the press. I published my views in my Review thirteen or fourteen years ago. I have published many of them since in a number of pamphlets, giving all as good an opportunity of discussing them as they can wish. And there is not the same necessity for a man who has published his views through the press, to invite discussion on the platform, as there is for a man who has not given his views through the press.

The following letter, written to a friend in Newcastle-on-Tyne, may explain my views on this point a little more fully:—

MY DEAR SIR,—In answer to your question whether I will meet the Representative of Secularism in debate, I would say, that I had rather, for several reasons, spend what remains of my life and strength in peaceful labors as a preacher, a lecturer, and an author. I seem to have done enough in the way of public discussion. And I have not the amount of physical or nervous energy, or the strength of voice and lungs, which I once had. I am suffering, not only from the effects of age, but from a terrible shock received in a collision on the railway, causing serious paralysis of my right side, and greatly reducing the force and action of my heart and brain.

Then I am not the representative of the Church, or of any section of it. I can only stand forth as the advocate of my own views. Further; there are many questions connected with the Bible, which appear to me more fitted for quiet thought and friendly discussion among scholars and critics, than for debate in a popular audience. On many of those points Christian divines differ among themselves. They differ, for instance, to some extent, in their views of Bible inspiration and the sacred canon; they differ as to the worth of manuscripts, texts, and versions, the validity of various readings, the origin and significance of discrepancies in some of the historical and chronological portions of the Bible, &c., &c. On none of these points do I consider myself called upon to state or advocate any particular views.

There are however points of a broader and more important character, on which a public popular discussion might be proper and useful; such as the general drift and scope of the Bible, or its aim and tendency; the character and tendency of Christianity as presented in the life and teachings of its Author, and in the writings of the Apostles; the comparative merits of Christianity, and of Atheistic Secularism as set forth in the writings of Secularists.

I understand the leaders of the Secularists to teach, that Christianity is exceedingly mischievous in its tendency,—that it is adverse to civilization, and to the temporal interests of mankind generally,—that the Bible is the curse of Europe, &c. These are subjects on which a popular audience may be as well qualified to judge, as scholars and critics. And if you particularly desire it, I will authorize you to arrange for a discussion on them between me and such representative of Secularism as you may think fit. I should not however like the discussion to occupy more than three nights in any one week. And I should wish effectual precautions to be taken to secure a peaceful and orderly debate. It will be necessary also to have the subjects to be discussed plainly and definitely stated.

Yours, most respectfully, JOSEPH BARKER.

18. I may now add, that the evidences which had most to do in convincing me of the truth and divinity of Christianity, were the internal ones. I was influenced more by moral and spiritual, than by historical and critical considerations. I do not think lightly of Paley's works on the Evidences, or of Miall's Bases of Belief, or of Dr. Hopkins', or Dr. Channing's, or Dr. Priestley's Evidences of Christianity; but the Bible, and especially the story of Christ, was the principal instrument of my conversion. I believed first with my heart rather than my head. True, my head soon justified the belief of my heart: but my heart was first in the business. I believe in miracles; I think them of great importance. I believe especially in the miracles of Christ. But that which melted my heart; that which won my infinite admiration; that which filled me with unspeakable love and gratitude; that which made me a Christian and a Christian believer, was Christ himself. Even His miracles moved me more as expressions of His love, than as proofs of His power. The great thing that overpowered me was the infinite excellency of Christ, and the wonderful adaptation of Christianity to the spiritual and moral, the social and physical, wants of mankind, Christ Himself is His own best advocate. His life and character are His strongest claims on our love and loyalty. And His religion, like the sun, is its own best evidence of its divinity. The infinite worth of the sun—the astonishing and infinitely varied adaptation of his light and warmth to the wants of every living thing—his wonderful and beneficent effects on plants and trees, on animals and man, are the strongest proofs of His Divine original. And so with Christianity, the Sun of the moral and spiritual world. It proves its heavenly origin by its amazing adaptation to man's nature, and by its almighty tendency to promote his improvement and perfection; by the light, the life, the blessedness it gives; by the love it kindles; by the glorious transformations which it effects in depraved individuals and degenerate communities; by the peace, the hope, the joy it inspires; and by the courage and strength it imparts both in life and in death.

19. The form in which Christianity presented itself to me, and the way in which it operated on my soul, may be seen from the articles I wrote on "Christ and His teachings," about the time of my conversion. They refer to the doctrine of Christ with regard to a Fatherly God, and His loving care of His creatures. The first thing that struck me in this doctrine was its beauty and tenderness. It is just the kind of doctrine which the hearts of the best of men would wish to be true. It answers to the weaknesses and the wants of our nature; to the longings and aspirations of our souls. It is full of consolation. It makes the universe complete. It makes man's life worth living. It makes the greatness, the vastness, the infinitude of our intellectual and affectional nature a blessing. It gives peace—the peace that passes understanding. It gives joy,—the joy that is unspeakable and full of glory. It opens our lips in the sight of sorrow, and enables us to give the sufferer consolation. It gives the universe a head. It gives it unity. It gives to man a Ruler. It gives to law a commanding force. It gives to conscience a controlling power. It makes virtue duty, while it gives to it fresh grandeur and beauty. It exalts it in our eyes; and it endears it to our hearts. And it furnishes the all-perfect example. And it makes reasonable the inculcation of humility and charity, of forbearance and forgiveness. And it dignifies the work of beneficence. It makes us the allies and fellow-workers of the infinite. It makes us one with Him. In teaching the ignorant, in bringing back the erring, in strengthening the weak, in reforming the vicious, in cheering the sad, in blessing the world, we are working as children in fellowship with their infinite Father, and the pulses of our generous nature beat in harmony with the living, loving, all-pervading Spirit of the universe.

And while it brightens the present, it gilds the future. It makes a blessed immortality a natural certainty. If God our Father lives, then we His children shall live also. Death is abolished. Day dawns at last on the night of the grave. Earth is our birth-place and our nursery; death is the gate-way to infinity, and there is our glorious and eternal home. Our work for ever is the joyous work of doing good. Our future life is an eternal unfolding, and a delightful exercise, of our highest powers. The mysteries of universal nature open to our view, and in the confluence of the delights of knowledge and the transports of benevolence, our joy is full; our bliss complete.

This doctrine, in the form in which Jesus presents it, has hold of the hearts of nearly the whole population of Christendom. It has the strongest hold on the best. Even those who doubt it, doubt it with a sigh; and those who give it up, surrender it with regret. And as they make the sacrifice the earth grows dark. And life grows sad. And nature wears the air of desolation. The music of the woods becomes less sweet. The beauty of the flowers becomes less charming. There creeps a dreary silence over land and sea. Existence loses more than half its charms. The light of life burns dim. The past, the present, and the future all are cheerless. The world is one vast orphan-house. Mankind are fatherless. Our dearest ones are desolate. And language has no word to comfort them. The lover sighs. The husband and the father weeps. The bravest stand aghast. The charm of life, the unmixed bliss of being, is no more.

But the question of questions is, Is the doctrine true? The heart says it is, and even the intellect acknowledges that there are ten thousand appearances in nature which cannot be accounted for on any other principle. We cannot at present dwell on the subject; but the doctrine of Jesus with regard to God and immortality is the grandest and most consoling, and is the most adapted to strengthen the soul to duty, and to cheer and support it under suffering, that the mind of man can conceive.

And then as to Jesus Himself, the love and the reverence with which He is honored by so large a portion of the foremost nations of the earth, are no mistake,—no accident. They are the natural result of His worth and excellency. They are the natural response of the generous heart of humanity, to its wisest Teacher, its loftiest Example, and its greatest Benefactor. The devoutest love, the liveliest gratitude, the richest honors, the costliest offerings are his,—He deserves them all. And His name shall remain, and His fame shall spread, as long as the sun and moon endure.

All nations love and adore the good. Men will even die for them. What wonder then that Jesus should be so loved? What wonder that so many tongues should praise Him, so many hearts adore Him, and so many nations bow before Him, and accept Him as their Lord? For He devoted Himself to the service, not of a class or a nation, but of the world. The sick, the poor, the ignorant, the fallen; the little innocent children, the wronged and outcast woman, the hated Samaritan, the despised Pagan, the obnoxious publican, the youthful prodigal, the dying penitent, the cruel persecutor, all shared His love, His pity, and His prayers. He lived, He taught, He died for all.

20. The first Christians that invited me to preach were the Methodist Reformers of Wolverhampton. The next were the Primitive Methodists of Tunstall and Bilston. The Primitive Methodists at Tunstall invited me to join their community, and as soon as I consistently could, I did so. I was afterwards accepted as a local preacher. My labors as a preacher and lecturer have been mostly in connection with that community. I was specially struck with the zeal, the labors, and the usefulness of the Primitive Methodists while on my way from the wilds of error; and my intercourse with its ministers and members since I became a Christian, has proved to me an unspeakable comfort and blessing. I have received from them the greatest kindness: and I pray God that I may prove a comfort and a blessing to them in return.

21. I had great sacrifices to make when I renounced my connection with the unbelievers and became a Christian, and for some time I and my family had experience of severe trials. We had to give up our old business, and it seemed impossible to obtain a new one, and for a time we were threatened with the bitterness of want. We were unwilling to ask a favor of any Christian party, lest our motives for embracing Christianity should be suspected; and at times I felt perplexed and sad. One day my eldest son, seeing I was depressed, said, "Father, dear, don't be troubled. We must trust in God now. I do trust in Him; and I am so happy to think that we are all Christians, that I can bear anything." God bless his dear good soul. We did trust in God, and He sustained us. He supplied our wants. He overruled all things for our good. And we can now say, "The lines have fallen to us in pleasant places; we have a goodly heritage."

22. I have met with some unpleasantnesses since my return to Christ; but I am not sure that they are worth naming; and for the present they shall remain unnamed. I have met with many things of a very pleasant character. Thousands that followed me into doubt have come back with me to Christianity. Thousands that were sinking, were saved by my conversion. I believe I may say thousands of unbelievers that were not led into doubt by me, have been redeemed from their wretchedness through my example and labors. Some young ministers have been kept from rash and ruinous steps by the story of my experience. Many believers have been strengthened in their faith and encouraged in their Christian labors under my sermons and lectures. Many have been benefited by my publications. My family has been greatly comforted and blessed. The power of the infidel class has been diminished. I have myself enjoyed a kind and a degree of happiness that I never enjoyed while the slave of doubt and unbelief. And it is a great consolation to think that I was brought to God while in my health and strength, and that I have now been permitted to spend from eleven to twelve years in the work of Christ. Another great comfort is, that my circumstances are such as to enable me to give some proof of my devotion to the cause of Christ; of my infinite preference of the religion of Christ, both to the miserable philosophy of unbelief, and to the wretched fictions of ignorant or anti-Christian divines.

23. I read quite a multitude of books on my way back to Christ, and if I had time, I would give some account of the influence which some of them made on my mind. But I have not. It may seem strange, but I had sunk below the level of ancient Paganism, and the books which I read on my first awaking to a consciousness that I was wrong, were Pagan works. I read much in Plato and Aristotle, Cicero and Seneca, for a time, and then in Plutarch, M. A. Antonine, and Epictetus. The works of Epictetus, with the comments of Simplicius, proved exceedingly profitable. I then read the writings of Theodore Parker, Dr. Channing, and some of the works of Dr. Priestley, and got good from all. They all helped to inspire me with a horror of Atheism, and to strengthen my faith in God, and in His boundless and eternal love. I next read a number of my own works, beginning with those that were somewhat skeptical, and reading backwards, to those which were Christian. I then read freely my old companions and favorites, including Hooker, Baxter, and Howe; Jeremy Taylor, William Law, and Bishop Butler. I read Shakespeare freely, and Pope, and then Thomson, and Goldsmith, and Young, and Cowper, and Tennyson, and several others of our poets. Then came the works of Carlyle, Burke, Penn, and Wesley; of Robert Hall, and Dr. Cooke, and Mr. Newton; and the writings of Paley and Grotius. I also read Guizot's History of Civilization, and those portions of Dr. Henry's History of England that referred to the Church and Christianity. Still later I read Augustine's Confessions, Montalembert's Monks of the West, and everything I could find to illustrate the history of Christianity.

I was delighted, transported, with many of Wesley's hymns. I found in them an amount of truth, and beauty, and richness of good feeling, I had never found in them before. I read many of the hymns of Watts with great pleasure, as well as several collections of hymns and poetry by Roundell Palmer and others. I also read the writings of Chalmers, Whewell, and Lord Brougham on natural theology, and the works of several other authors on that subject.

At a later period I read something in Neander, Lange, and others on the life of Christ. Still later I read Young's Christ of History, with Renan and Ecce Homo. Renan tried me very much. He seemed to write in the scoffing spirit of Voltaire, and I laid the book aside before I got to the end. Ecce Homo delighted me exceedingly. I read it a dozen times. I studied it, and it did me a great deal of good. It both strengthened my faith in Christ, and increased my love to Him. Still later I read Ecce Deus with pleasure and profit.

The book however that did me most good was the Bible. I came to it continually, as to an overflowing fountain, and drank of its waters with ever-increasing delight.

24. I began to preach before I was fit; but I never might have been fit, if I had not begun. I became fit by working while unfit. And my imperfect labors proved a blessing to many.

25. There was much prejudice against me at first; but not more than I had reason to expect; and it gradually gave place to confidence and kind feeling. Some said I ought to remain silent a few years; but as I did not know what a few years or even a few days might bring forth, I thought it best to speak at once. I had spoken freely enough on the wrong side, and I saw no reason why I should not speak as freely and at once on the right side. Nor do I regret the course I took. It was the best. Some that thought otherwise at first, think as I do now. For instance, when Mr. Everett first heard that some of his friends had invited me to preach for them, he was very angry, and said I ought never to speak or show my face again in public as long as I lived. In less than four years he came to hear me, was much affected, shook me by the hand, thanked me, invited me to his house, showed me his library, and his museum of Methodist antiquities and curiosities, offered me a home in his house, and was as kind to me as a father.

I never quarrelled with people for regarding me with distrust or fear, though I often checked my over-zealous friends, who were disposed to quarrel with all who did not regard me with the same amount of love and confidence as themselves.

I have never defended myself against slanderers, either by word or writing, except when justice to my friends has seemed to require it.

I have never complained of any disadvantages under which I have labored. It is right that a man who has erred as I have, should have something unpleasant in his lot to remind him of his error, and render him more careful and prayerful for the time to come: and there is to me a pleasure in doing penance for my faults.

26. I have never thrown the whole blame of my errors on others, nor have I ever seen reason to take the whole to myself. God alone is able to distribute praise and blame, rewards and punishments, according to men's deserts, and to Him I leave the task. At first I was disposed to be very severe towards myself: but two years' experience in the religious body that I first joined, of a kind of treatment resembling that of my early days, satisfied me that I ought to judge myself a little more leniently. I would not however be unduly severe towards others. I cannot tell, when a man does me wrong, how far he may be under the influence of unavoidable error, and how far he may be under the influence of a wicked will. I may be able to measure the injustice of the act, but not the wickedness of the actor. God alone can do that. A man's treatment of me may satisfy me that I ought not to place myself in his power; but cannot justify me in saying of him that he deserves the damnation of hell. The rule with regard to men's deserts is, "Judge not, that ye be not judged."

27. But when I have made the most liberal allowance for myself, and even while I feel satisfied that in my investigations my object was the discovery of truth, and that my errors were wholly unintentional, I must still feel ashamed and mortified at the thought that I was so weak as to be capable of such grievous errors. Even when I take into account the imperfection of my education, and the disadvantages of my situation, and all the temptations by which I was assailed, I am still ashamed and humbled, and feel that my place is in the dust. But if, while prostrate, God says to me, "Arise!" shall I resist the call? If in the exercise of His love He restores to me the joys of His salvation, and bids me speak and labor in His cause, shall I not thankfully obey the heavenly voice? Shall I carry my humility to the extreme of disobedience? Shall I not rather arise, and, with a cheerful and joyous heart, do my Saviour what service I can? I will not presume to usurp the prerogative of God, even to judge and punish myself. I will leave myself to Him, the merciful and all-knowing, and He shall do with me what He sees best. I will not reject His mercy. I will not resist His will. Let Him do what seemeth to Him good, whether it be in the way of tenderness or of severity. It has pleased Him, thus far, to mingle much compassion with His chastisements, and His goodness calls for gratitude and joy.

28. And as I act towards God, I will act towards His people. If they frown on me, I will take it patiently; but if they welcome me with demonstrations of affection, I will rejoice. If they close their pulpits against me, I will say, "Your will be done." If they open them to me, I will enter, and, to the best of my ability, declare the counsel of God. A portion of God's people,—a large and most worthy portion—have received me graciously; and my duty is, and my endeavor, I trust, will be, to reciprocate their love and confidence. I say with the poet:—

"People of the living God, I have sought the world around, Paths of doubt and sorrow trod, Peace and comfort nowhere found; Now to you my spirit turns, Turns, a fugitive unblest; Brethren, where your altar burns O receive me to your rest.

"Lonely I no longer roam, Like the cloud, the wind, the wave; Where you dwell shall be my home, Where you die shall be my grave; Mine the God whom you adore, Your Redeemer shall be mine; Earth can fill my heart no more, All my joys shall be divine."

29. It seems strange that I should have been permitted to wander into doubt and unbelief, and live so long under its darkness and horrors. There is a mystery about it that I cannot understand. But what I know not now, I may know hereafter. The mystery of Job's trial was explained when his afflictions were at an end. The mystery of my strange trial is still wrapt up in darkness. True, my strange experience has not been an unmixed calamity. It has brought me advantages which I could not otherwise have enjoyed. I know things which I never could have known, if I had always remained within the enclosures of the Church, and under the influence of Christianity. And my heart is more subdued to the will of God. I am more at one with Him than I ever was before. I love Him more. I love Jesus more. I love His religion more. I have a clearer view and a fuller knowledge of its infinite worth. I have, of course, a fuller knowledge of the horrors of infidelity. And my faith in God and Christianity rests on a firmer foundation than it did in my early days. Many things which I once only believed, I now know. Many things for which I had formerly only the testimony of others, I now know to be true by my own experience. There are quite a multitude of things on which I have greater certainty, and on which I can, in consequence, speak with more authority than in my early days. There are, too, cases of doubt which I can meet, which formerly I could not have met. I can make more allowances too, than formerly, for those who are troubled with doubt, or ensnared by error. And my preaching, in some cases, is more powerful. And I am more free from bigotry and intolerance. While I see more to love and admire in the Church generally, I love all hard-working churches without partiality. I think less of the points on which they differ, and more of the points on which they agree. They appear to me more as one church. There are many points on which I might once have engaged in controversy, which now appear of little or no moment. While I have more zeal for God, I have more charity for men.

There are many things in Wesley's hymns, and many things in other hymns, which formerly I did not understand or appreciate, or understood and appreciated but very imperfectly, which now I understand more perfectly, and prize more highly. And so with many things in the Bible.

30. And I have, at times, and have had for years, strange glimpses of the magnificence and wondrousness of the universe; startling views of the awful grandeur and movements of its huge orbs, and of the terrible working of its great forces, and an overpowering sight and sense of the presence and power of the living God in all, which I never had in my earlier days. And I have often had, and still have, at times, strange feelings of the fact and mystery of existence: of my own existence, and of the existence of other beings, and of God.

31. And I have, at times, strange feelings with regard to the infinite value of life and consciousness, and of my intellectual and moral powers. And I have pleasant and wonderful thoughts and feelings with regard to the lower animals, as the creatures of God, my Father; and as manifestations of His goodness, and wisdom, and power; and as sharers with me of an infinite Father's love. And I love them as I never loved them in my earlier days. I feel happier in their company. I listen with more pleasure to the songs of birds, and gaze with more delight on every living thing. The earth and its inhabitants are new to me. The plants and flowers are new. The universe is new. I am new to myself. All things are new. It seems, at times, as if the new, enlarged, and higher life of which I have become conscious through my strange experience, were worth the fearful price which I have paid for it.

32. But then again I think of the time I spent in sin and folly,—of the mischief I did in those dark days,—of the grief I caused to so many good and godly souls,—of the sorrows I entailed on those most dear to me, and of the terrible disadvantages under which I labor, and under which I must always labor, in consequence of my unaccountable errors, and I am confounded and dismayed. But then, on the other hand, I am reminded that I did not sin wilfully,—that I did not err purposely or wantonly,—that what I did amiss I did in ignorance,—that I verily believed myself in the way of duty when I went astray,—that I was influenced by a desire to know the truth,—that I believed myself, at the outset, bound as a Christian, and as a creature of God, to use my faculties to the utmost in searching the Scriptures, and exploring Nature, in pursuit of truth,—that when I advocated infidel views, I advocated them believing them to be true, and believing that truth must be most conducive to the virtue and happiness of mankind. True, appearances were against me; but I felt myself bound, even when an unbeliever, to "walk by faith,"—by faith in principles which I supposed myself to have found to be true. My life, even in my worst condition, was a life of self-sacrifice for what I regarded as eternal truth. When I gave up my belief in a Fatherly God, and my faith in a blessed immortality, I believed myself to be making a sacrifice at the shrine of truth. I thought I heard her voice from the infinite universe demanding the surrender, and conscience compelled me to comply with the demand. I felt the dreadful nature of the sacrifice, but what could I do?

I remember the words I uttered, and I remember the mingled emotions which filled and agitated my soul, on that occasion. I was distressed at the terrible necessity of giving up the cherished idols of my soul, yet I was filled for a moment with a strange delight at the thought that I was doing my duty in compliance with the stern demands of eternal law, and the dread realities of universal being. And I hoped against hope that the result would all be right.

I weep when I read the strange words which I uttered on that dark and terrible occasion. I said to myself, "The last remains of my religious faith are gone. The doctrines of a personal God, and of a future life, I am compelled to regard as the offspring, not of the understanding, but of the imagination and affections." It is no easy matter to wean one's-self from flattering and long cherished illusions. It is no easy matter to believe that doctrines which have been almost universally received, and which have been so long and so generally regarded as essential to the virtue and happiness of mankind—doctrines, too, which have mingled their mighty influences with so much of the beautiful and sublime in human history, and which still, to so many, form all the poetry and romance, almost all the interest and grandeur and blessedness of human life, have no foundation in truth. To persons who believe in a Fatherly God, and in human immortality, pure naturalism is terribly uninviting. It was always so to me. I well remember the mingled horror and pity with which, when a Christian, I regarded the man who had no personal God, and no hope of a future life. I remember too how I wrote or spoke of such. I mourned over them as the most hapless and miserable of all living beings. Yet I myself have come at length, by slow degrees, after a thousand struggles, and with infinite reluctance, to the dread conclusion, that a personal God and an immortal life are fictions of the human mind. Yet existence has not quite lost its charms, nor life its enjoyments. There is something infinitely grand, and unspeakably exciting and elevating in the consciousness of having made a sacrifice of the most popular and bewitching of all illusions, out of respect to truth. It was an enviable state of mind which prompted, the grand and thrilling exclamation, "Let justice be done, though the heavens should fall." And that state of mind is no less enviable which can sustain a man in the sacrifice of God and immortality at the shrine of truth. Such a sacrifice, accompanied, as it must be in the present state of society, with a thousand other sacrifices of reputation, friendships, popular pleasures, and social favor, is an exercise of the highest virtue, a demonstration of the greatest magnanimity, and is accompanied or followed with an intensity of satisfaction which none but the martyr-spirit of truth can conceive. It is often said by Christians, that the reason why persons doubt the existence of God and a future life is, that they have good cause to dread them; or, as Grotius expresses it, that they live in such a way that it would be to their interest that there should be no God or future life. This was not the case with me. My unbelief came upon me while I was diligently striving in all things to do God's will. My virtue outlived my faith.

"Born of Methodist parents, and reared under Christian influences, and a Christian myself, and even a Christian minister for many years, I was brought slowly and reluctantly, in spite of a world of prejudices, and in spite of interests and associations and tastes all but almighty in their influence, to the conclusion, that pure, unmixed Naturalism alone accorded with what was known of the present state and the past history of the universe. I say I was brought to these conclusions in spite of a world of opposing influences. While a Christian, all that the world could promise or bestow seemed to be within my reach. Friends, popularity, wealth, power, fame; and visions of infinite usefulness to others, and of unbounded happiness to myself in the future, were all promised me as the reward of continued devotion to the cause of God and Christianity. As the reward of heresy and unbelief, I had to encounter suspicion, desertion, hatred, reproach, persecution, want, grief of friends and kindred, anxious days and sleepless nights, and almost every extreme of mental anguish. Still, inquiry forced me into heresy further and further every year, and brought me at length to the extreme of doubt and unbelief."

It was, then, in no light mood that I gave up my faith in God, and Christ, and immortality. The change in my views was no headlong, hasty freak. It was the result of long and serious thought—of misguided, but honest, conscientious study. And hence I have sometimes thought, and am still inclined to think, that God had a hand in the matter—that He led me, or permitted me to wander, along that strange and sorrowful road, and to pass through those dreary and dolorous scenes, and drink so deeply of so dreadful a cup of sorrow, for some good end. "He maketh the wrath of man to praise Him," and perhaps he may turn our errors also to good account. I am not disposed to believe that my life has been a failure. It may, for anything I know, prove to have been a great success. "Men are educated largely by their mistakes," says one. It hardly seems likely that God would suffer a well-intentioned, though weak and erring child, to ruin either himself or others for ever. God is good, and the future will justify His ways, and all His saints shall praise Him.

My business meanwhile is, to do what I can to promote the interests of truth, and the welfare of mankind. I must, so far as possible, redeem lost time. I have a thousand causes for gratitude, and none for complaint. I am very happy in general; as happy as I desire to be, and as happy, I expect, as it is good for me to be. I sometimes feel as if I were too happy. And I certainly never ask God to make me more happy. I ask Him to make me wiser, and better, and more useful, but not more happy. At times my cup of joy runs over. It is strange it should be so, yet so it is. But joy and sorrow are often found in company. Paul says of himself, "Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing." The author of Ecce Deus says, "The good man's life is one unbroken repentance. Throughout his life he suffers on account of his sins. What, then of joy?" he asks: and he answers, "It is contemporaneous with sorrow. They are inseparable. The joy that is born of sorrow is the only joy that is enduring." It may seem strange, but it is true, the last year of my life has been the happiest I ever experienced.



CHAPTER XX.

A FEW OF THE LESSONS I HAVE LEARNED ON MY WAY THROUGH LIFE.

And now for a few of the lessons which I have learned on my way through life.

1. One, alas! is, that it is very difficult to bring young people to benefit by the experience of their elders. It would be a happy thing if we could put old men's heads on young men's shoulders; but no method of performing the operation has, as yet, been hit upon. It might answer as well, if old men could empty their heads into the heads of the young. But this is a task almost as difficult as the former. The heads of the young are generally full of foolish thoughts, and vain conceits, and wild dreams of what they are to be, and do, and enjoy in the days to come, with large admixtures at times of more objectionable materials; so that there is no room for the counsels and admonitions of their elders. Then there are some who do not like to be counselled or admonished. Having set their minds on the attainment of a certain object, they are unwilling to listen to any but such as commend their course, and encourage them with promises of success. There are others who think they have no need of counsel or admonition. Counsel and admonition are proper enough for some people, but they are not required in their case, they imagine. They do not exactly think themselves beings of a superior order, beyond the reach of ordinary dangers; but they act as if they thought so. In words they would acknowledge themselves to be but men, liable to the common frailties of their race; but their conduct seems to say, "It is impossible we should ever err or sin as some men do; we are better constructed, and are born to a happier lot." Their purpose is to do right, and it never enters their minds that they can ever do wrong. And if you tell them that they are in danger of becoming intemperate, or skeptical, or of falling into any great error or sin, they feel hurt, and say, "Do you suppose we are dogs that we should do such things?" Dogs or not, when the time of trial comes, they do them. And then they discover, that men are not always so wise, so good, or so strong as they suppose themselves; that people may be the subjects of weaknesses of which they are utterly unconscious, till assailed by some unlooked for temptation; and they mourn at the last, and say, "How have we hated instruction, and despised the counsel of the Holy One." And now they see that the strongest need a stronger one than themselves to shield them, and that the wisest need a wiser one than themselves to guide them, if they are to be kept from harm.

We have no disposition to be severe with such persons, for we belonged to the same unhappy class ourselves. It never once entered our minds in our earlier days, that we could ever fall away from Christ. We saw that others were in danger, but we never supposed we were in danger ourselves. We preached from the text, "Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall," and we pressed the solemn warning on our hearers with the greatest earnestness; but we never applied it to ourselves. We supposed ourselves secure. And if any one had told us that we should one day cease to be a Christian, and above all, if any man had said that we should fall into unbelief, and be ranked with the opponents of Christianity, we should have thought him insolent or mad. Yet we know what followed. We cannot therefore deal harshly with our too self-confident brethren. But we must give them faithful warning. Be on your guard, my dear young friends. You are not so free from defects, nor so far from danger, as your conscious innocence, or the great deceiver, may insinuate. There may be tendencies to evil within you, and temptations in the mysterious world around you, of the character and force of which you have no conception. It was as great and good a man as you perhaps that said,

"Weaker than a bruised reed, Help I every moment need."

And he was wise that said,—

"Beware of Peter's words, Nor confidently say, 'I never will deny thee, Lord;' But, 'Grant I never may.'"

There are devices of the wicked one of which you are not yet aware; "depths of Satan" which you have not yet fathomed; and terrible possibilities of which, as yet, you have never dreamed. I say again, Be on your guard. "Be not high-minded, but fear." "Blessed is the man that feareth always." None are so weak as those who think themselves strong. None are in such danger as those who think themselves secure.

Man, even at best, is not so great, so wise, so strong, as some are prone to suppose: and when, cut off from Christ and His people, from the Bible and prayer, he trusts in his own resources, he is poor, and weak, and frail in the extreme. There are no errors, no extravagances, no depths of degradation, into which the lawless self-reliant man may not fall. When I had lost my faith in Christ, and had freed myself from all restraints of Bible authority and Church discipline, I said to myself, "I will be a MAN; all that a man acting freely, giving his soul full scope, tends naturally to become; and I will be nothing else." I had come to the conclusion that man was naturally good—that, when freely and fully developed, apart from the authority of religion, churches and books, he would become the perfection of wisdom, and goodness, and happiness. I said to myself, "Christ was but a man; and the reason why He so much excelled all other men was, that He acted freely, without regard to the traditions of the elders, the law of Moses, or any authority but that of His own untrammelled mind. I will follow the same course. I will free myself from the prejudices of my education, from the influence of my surroundings, and from the authority of all existing laws and religions, and be my own sole ruler, my own sole counsellor, my own sole guide. I will act with regard to the religion of Christ, as Christ acted with regard to the religion of Moses; obey it, abolish it, or modify it, as its different parts may require. I will act with regard to the Church authorities of my time as Jesus acted with regard to the Scribes and Pharisees of His day; I will set them aside. I will be a man; a free, self-ruled, and self-developed man."

Alas, I little knew the terrible possibilities of the nature of man when left to itself. I had no conception of its infinite weakness with regard to what is good, or its fearful capabilities with regard to what is bad. I had no idea of the infinite amount of evil that lay concealed in the human heart, ready, when unrepressed, to unfold itself, and take all horrible forms of vice and folly. I indulged myself in my mad experiments of unlimited freedom till appalled by the melancholy results. I did not become all that unchecked license could make me; but I became so different a creature from what I had anticipated, that I saw the madness of my resolution, and recoiled. I came to the verge of all evil. God had mercy on me and held me back in spite of my impiety, or I should have become a monster of iniquity. Man was not made for unlimited liberty. He was made for subjection to the Divine will, and for obedience to God's law. He was made for fellowship with the good among his fellow-men, and for submission to Christian discipline. He can become good and great and happy only by faith in God and Christ, by self-denial, by good society, by careful moral and religious culture, and by constant prayer and dependence on God. I now no longer say, "I will be a man;" but, "Let me be a Christian." I no longer say, "I will be all that my nature, working unchecked, will make me;" but, "Let me be all that Christ and Christianity can make me. Let me check all tempers at variance with the mind of Christ; and all tendencies at variance with His precepts. Let the mouth of that fearful abyss which lies deep down in my nature be closed, and let the infernal fires that smoulder there be utterly smothered; and let the love of God and the love of man reign in me, producing a life of Christ-like piety and beneficence. Let all I have and all I am be a sacrifice to God in Christ, and used in the cause of truth and righteousness for the welfare of mankind."

The enemy of man has many devices. In my case, as in the case of so many others, he transformed himself into "an angel of light." He did not say, "Give up your work: forsake Christ; desert His Church; indulge your appetites; give yourself to selfish, sensual pleasure; free yourself from religious restraint, from moral control, from scruples of conscience, and live for gain, or fame, or power." On the contrary; his counsel was, "Perfect your creed; perfect your knowledge; reform the Church; expose its corruptions; reform the ministry; expose its errors; go back to the simplicity of Christ; return to the order of the ancient Church; pay no regard to prevailing sentiments, or to established customs; begin anew. Resolve on perfection; it is attainable; be content with nothing less. Assert your rights. Be true. Prove all things; hold fast to what is good, but cast away whatever you find to be evil. Call no one master but Christ; and what Christ requires, ask no one but yourself. Be true to your own conscience. God has called you to restore the Church to its purity, to its simplicity, to its ancient power. Be faithful, and fear no opposition. Free inquiry must lead to truth, and truth is infinitely desirable. Assail error; assail men's inventions; spare nothing but what is of God. It is God's own work you are doing; it is the world's salvation for which you are laboring; and God's own Spirit will guide you, and His power will keep you from harm." All this was true; but it was truth without the needful accompaniment of pious caution. It was true, but it was truth without the needful amount of humility, of meekness, of gentleness, and of self-distrust. It was truth, but it was truth put in such a form as to do the work of falsehood. It was an appeal to pride, to self-conceit, to self-sufficiency. It was truth presented in such a shape, as to abate the sense of my dependence on God; as to make me forgetful of my own imperfections; as to exclude from my mind all thoughts of danger, and so prepare me for mistakes, mishaps, and ultimately ruin. It is not enough to aim at good objects: we must be humble; we must be sensible that our sufficiency is of God; we must be conscious of our own weakness, of our own imperfections, and of our own danger, and move with care, and watchfulness, and prayer. We must not please ourselves with thoughts of the wonders we will achieve, of the services we will render to the world, and of the honor we shall gain; but cherish the feeling that God is all, and be content that He alone shall be glorified. We are but earthen vessels; the excellency of the power is of God.

O my poor soul, how do I grieve when I think of thy early dreams, and of thy sad awakening. Like Adam, I lived in a Paradise of bliss, suspecting no evil, and dreading no change. I had been trained to piety from my earliest years. The Bible was my delight. Christ and Christianity were my glory and joy. The Church was my home. To preach the Gospel, to defend God's cause, and to labor for the salvation of the world, were the delight of my life. I was successful. I was popular. I had many friends, and was passionately beloved. Wherever I went, men hailed me as their spiritual father. The chapels in which I preached were crowded to their utmost capacity, and men regarded me as the champion of Christianity. They applauded my labors in its behalf, and testified their esteem and admiration by unmistakable signs. At one time I might have applied to myself the words of Job, "When the ear heard me, then it blessed me; and when the eye saw me, it gave witness to me. The young men saw me, and gave me reverence; and the aged arose and stood up. Unto me men gave ear, and waited; and kept silence at my counsel. They waited for my words as for the showers; and opened their mouths as for the latter rain. I chose out their way, and sat chief, and dwelt as a king in the army, as one that comforteth the mourners." And everything seemed to foretell a continuance of my happy lot. My prejudices and my convictions, my tastes and my affections, my habits and my inclinations, my interests and my family, all joined to bind me to the cause of Christ by the strongest bonds. And I seemed as secure to others as to myself. Hence I looked forward to a life of ever-increasing usefulness, reflecting credit on my family and friends, and conferring blessings on mankind at large. I revelled in hopes of a reformed Church, and a regenerated world; and, passing the bounds of time, my spirit exulted in the prospect of a glorious immortality. Yet "when I looked for good then evil came; and when I waited for light there came darkness." I fell away. My happy thoughts, my joyous hopes, my delightful prospects, all vanished. I underwent a most melancholy transformation. The eyes that gazed on me with affectionate rapture, now stared at me with affright and terror; and brave, stout men wept over me like children. The light of my life was extinguished. My dwelling was in darkness. "I was a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls." And there was nothing before me but the dreary prospect of a return to nothingness. And can you, my young friends, dream of safety with facts like these in view? Again, I say, be on your guard. An easy, dreamy self-security is the extreme of madness. Our only safety is in watchfulness and prayer. Our only sufficiency is of God.

"O, never suffer me to sleep Secure within the reach of hell; But still my watchful spirit keep In lowly awe and loving zeal: And bless me with a godly fear, And plant that guardian angel here."

2. The second lesson I would name is this: It is dangerous to allow bad feeling to get into your hearts towards your Christian friends, or your brother ministers. It is especially dangerous to allow it to remain there. It works like the infection of the plague. Try therefore to keep your minds in a calm and comfortable state towards all with whom you have to do. Guard against rash judgments and groundless suspicions; or you may take offence when no offence is meant. But even when people do you harm on purpose, it is best to be forbearing. We never know the force of temptation under which men act; or the misconceptions under which they labor. We may ourselves have caused their misdoings by some unconscious error of our own. It is well to suspect ourselves sometimes of unknown faults, and to go on the supposition that what appears unkindness in others towards us, may be the result of some unguarded word or inconsiderate action on our part towards them. 2. Keep your hearts as full as possible of Christian love. The more abundant your love, the less will be your liability either to give or take offence. 3. And do not overrate the importance of men's misconduct towards you. We are not so much in the power of others as we are prone to imagine. The world is governed by God, and no one can hurt us against His will. Do that which is right, and you and your interests are secure. So take things comfortably. And try to overcome evil with good. And if you find the task a hard one, seek help from God.

3. Another lesson which I have learned on my way through life is, that it is dangerous to indulge a spirit of controversy. There may be occasions when controversy is a duty; but it is best, as a rule, just to state what you believe to be the truth, and leave it to work its way in silence. If people oppose it, misrepresent it, or ridicule it, then state it again at the proper time, with becoming meekness and gentleness, and then commit it to the care of its great Patron. It is difficult to run into controversy without falling into sin. Men need to be very wise and good to be able to go through a controversy honorably and usefully; and by the time they are qualified for the dangerous work, they prefer more peaceful employment. Controversy always tends to produce excess of warmth, and warmth of a dangerous kind. It often degenerates into a quarrel, and ends in shame. Men go from principles to personalities; and instead of seeking each other's instruction, try only to humble and mortify each other. They begin perhaps with a love of truth, but they end with a struggle for victory. They try to deal fairly at the outset, but become unscrupulous at last, and say or do anything that seems likely to harass or injure their opponents. The beginning of strife is like the letting out of water from a reservoir; there is first a drop, then a trickle, then a headlong rushing torrent, bearing down all before it, and sweeping away men and their works to destruction. It is best, therefore, to take the advice of the proverb, and "leave off contention before it be meddled with."

4. Another lesson that I have learnt on my way through life is, that ministers should deal very tenderly with their younger brethren. They should teach them, so far as they are able, and check them when they see them doing anything really wrong; but they should never interfere needlessly with their spiritual freedom. Young men of mind and conscience will think. They will test their creeds by the Sacred Oracles, and endeavor to bring them into harmony with the teachings of Christ and His Apostles. And it is right they should. It is their duty, as they have opportunity, to "prove all things." And few young men, of any considerable powers, can compare the creeds which they receive in their childhood with the teachings of Sacred Scripture, without coming to the conclusion, that on some points they are erroneous, and on others defective; that on some subjects they contain too much, and on others too little. And good young men will naturally feel disposed to lay aside what they regard as erroneous, and to accept what presents itself to their minds as true. In some cases they will make mistakes. The only men that never think wrong, are those who never think at all. There never was a child born into the world that learned to walk without stumbling occasionally, and at times even falling outright. And there never was a spiritual child that learned to travel in the paths of religious investigation, without falling at times into error. But what is to be done on such occasions? What does the mother do when her baby falls? Does she run and kick the poor little creature, and say, "You naughty, dirty tike, if ever you try to walk again, I will throw you into the gutter?" On the contrary, she runs and catches up the dear little thing; and if it has hurt itself, she kisses the place to make it well, and says, "Try again, my darling; try again." And it does try again: and in course of time it learns to walk as steadily as its mother; and when she begins to stagger under the infirmities of age, it takes her hand, and steadies her goings.

And so it should be in spiritual matters. When a good young man falls into error, we should treat him with the tenderness and affection of a mother. "We were gentle among you," says Paul to the Thessalonians, "even as a nurse cherisheth her children." And this is the example that we should follow towards our younger brethren. Whether we would keep them from erring, or bring them back when they go astray, we should treat them tenderly.... We should try to win their love and confidence. Men can often be led, when they cannot be driven. There are numbers who, if you attempt to drive them, will run the contrary way; who, if you treat them with respect, and show them that you love them, will follow you where-ever you may go.

But you must give them time. They cannot always come right all at once. When a fisherman angles for large fish, he provides himself with a flexible, elastic rod, and a good long length of line; and when he has hooked his prey, he gives it the line without stint, and allows it to dart to and fro, and plunge and flounder at pleasure, till it has tired itself well, and then he brings it to the bank with ease. If he were to attempt to drag the fish to the shore at once, by main force, it would snap his rod, or break his line, and get away into the deep; and he would lose both his fish and his tackle. And so it is in the world of mind. When we have to do with vigorous and active-minded young men, we must allow their intellects a little play. We must wait till they begin to feel their weakness. We must place a little confidence in them, and give them a chance both of finding out their deficiencies, and of developing their strength.

It would not be amiss if elder preachers could go on the supposition that they are not quite perfect or infallible themselves,—that it is possible that their brethren may discover some truth in Scripture, that has not yet found its way into their creed; or detect some error in their creed, that has lurked there unsuspected for ages. And they ought to be willing to learn, as well as disposed to teach.

But in any case, if our studious young brethren miss their way sometimes, we must be kind and gentle towards them, and in our endeavors to save them, must proceed with care. Deal harshly with them, and you drive them into heresy or unbelief. Deal gently and lovingly with them, and you bring them back to the truth. How often the disciples of Jesus erred with regard to the nature of His kingdom, and the means by which it was to be established. Yet how patiently He bore with them. And in this, as in other things, He has left us an example that we should tread in His steps. The sun keeps the planets within their spheres, and even brings back the comets from their far-off wanderings, by the gentle power of attraction. And the Sun of Righteousness keeps His spiritual planets in their orbits, and brings from the blackness of darkness the stars that wander, by the same sweet power. And the secondary lights of the world must keep their satellites in their orbits, and bring back to their spheres the stars that fall or lose their way, by kindred influences. The mightiest and divinest power in the universe is LOVE.

5. And now comes a lesson to the young thinkers. Suppose your elder brethren should treat you unkindly; suppose they should discourage your search after truth, and require you to conform your creed to their own ideas, and your way of speaking to their own old style of expression; suppose that they should look with suspicion on your endeavors to come nearer to the truth, and, whenever you give utterance to a thought or an expression at variance with their own, should denounce you as heretics, and threaten you with excommunication, what should you do?

We answer, go quietly on in the fear of the Lord. Make no complaint, but prepare yourselves for expulsion. When expelled, go quietly to some Church that can tolerate your freedom, and work there in peace as the servants of God. Cherish no resentment. Commit your cause to God, and, laboring to do His will, leave Him to choose your lot.

Even the trials that come from the ignorance or wickedness of men, are of God's appointment. We are taught that it was by God's ordination that Judas betrayed Christ; that God employed the wickedness of the traitor for the accomplishment of His great designs. David said, referring to Shimei, "Let him curse, for God hath commanded him." God employed the wickedness of Shimei, to try and punish David. Wesley has embodied the sentiment in one of his hymns, as follows:

"Lord, I adore Thy gracious will; Through every instrument of ill My Father's goodness see: Accept the complicated wrong Of Shimei's hand, and Shimei's tongue, As kind rebukes from Thee."

Joseph said, God had sent him down to Egypt to save many souls alive. His wicked brethren were only the instruments of his banishment. They meant it for evil, God turned it to good. And so in your case: God may be using the ignorance or the wickedness of your persecutors to separate you from a body for which you are not fitted, and to place you in one where you will be more useful and more happy. When we do right, God will make the errors, and even the sins of our enemies, work for our good.

6. Another lesson which I have thoroughly learnt is, that though men may become unbelievers through other causes than vice, they cannot continue unbelievers without spiritual and moral loss. The inevitable tendency of infidelity is to debase men's souls. And here I speak not on the testimony of others merely, but from extensive observation and personal experience. I have known numbers whom infidelity has degraded, but none whom it has elevated. We do not say that every change in a Christian's belief is demoralizing. Disbelief in error, resulting from increase of knowledge, may improve his character; but the loss of faith in Christ, and God, and immortality, can never do otherwise than strengthen a man's tendencies to vice, and weaken his inclinations towards virtue. When infidels say that their unbelief has made them more virtuous, they attach different ideas to the word virtuous from those which Christians attach to it. They call evil good, and good evil. The secularists call fornication and adultery virtue. But this is fraud. That infidelity is unfavorable to what men generally call virtue, and friendly to what men generally call vice, infidels themselves know. Their passions and prejudices may make them doubt the bad influence of their unbelief for a time, but not long. I myself questioned the downward tendency of infidelity in my own case for a time, but facts proved too strong for me in the end. My friends could see a deterioration both in my temper and conduct. And there was a falling off in my zeal and labors for the good of mankind from the first. There was a falling off even in my talents. There was a greater tendency to self-indulgence. It was owing to the still lingering influence of my early faith, and of my early Christian tastes and habits, that I was no worse. The virtue which I retained I owed to the religion on which I had unhappily turned my back. When unbelievers are moral, they are so, not in consequence, but in spite of their unbelief. When Christian believers are bad, they are so, not in consequence, but in spite of their religion. Infidelity tends to destroy conscience. It annihilates the great motives to virtue. It strengthens the selfish and weakens the benevolent affections and tendencies of our nature, and smoothes the road to utter depravity. The farther men wander from Christ, and the longer they remain away, the nearer they approach to utter degeneracy.

It seldom happens that men who have lived long under the influence of Christianity, become grossly immoral as soon as they lose their faith: but they decline in virtue from the first, and utter depravation comes in time. I have seen a tree growing prostrate on the ground, when many of its roots had been torn up from the soil; but it grew very poorly; and the growth it made was owing to the hold which the remainder of its roots still had on the soil. The branch that is cut off from the tree may retain a portion of its sap, and show some signs of languishing life for weeks; but it dies at length. And so with the branches cut off from the spiritual vine; they gradually wither and decay. The iron taken white hot from the furnace, does not get cool at once; but it gradually comes down to the temperature of the atmosphere with which it is surrounded. The prodigal did not get through his share of his father's property in a day, but he found himself perishing of hunger at length. A man does not die the moment he ceases to eat, but he will die if he persists in his abstinence. A man may live in an unhealthy district, and breathe unwholesome air for some time, without apparent injury; but disease will show itself in the end. It is not uncharitableness that makes us speak thus, but charity itself. It is desirable, that both believers and unbelievers should know the truth on this important subject. Infidelity is the enemy of all virtue, and consequently of all happiness; and it is necessary that this should be generally and thoroughly known, and that the old-fashioned prejudice against it should be allowed to keep its ground, and remain as strong as ever. And Christians must show their charity towards unbelievers, not by abating men's horror of infidelity, but by endeavoring to deliver them from its deadly power.

7. And here comes another lesson. Do not suppose that unbelievers are irreclaimable. There is always good ground to hope for the conversion of those unbelievers who retain a respect for virtue, if they are properly treated; and even those who are sunk in vice should not be abandoned in despair. Several of those who have returned to Christ during the last ten years, were men who had gone far in various forms of wickedness. And many of those converts from infidelity of whom we read in old religious books, were persons of immoral character. And though habits of vice are not easily broken off, yet the miseries they entail on men may rouse them to more vigorous efforts for their deliverance. And it sometimes happens that those who are poor in promise, are rich in performance. You remember the Saviour's parable of the two sons. The Father said to the first, "Son, go work to-day in my vineyard." And he answered and said, "I will not," but afterwards he repented and went. And the father said to the second, "Go." And he answered and said, "I go, Sir," and went not. And this, said Christ, is what takes place between Me and mankind. I say to the fair-seeming people, "Give yourselves to God;" and they answer, "We will, Lord," but still live on in selfishness and sin. I say to abandoned profligates, "Give yourselves to God;" and they answer, "We will not;" but on thinking the matter over, they repent and live to God. Harlots and publicans enter the kingdom of God, while scribes and pharisees remain without. The oyster, if you look at its outward covering, is a "hard case;" yet within, it is soft and tender in the extreme. The ugliest caterpillar is but an undeveloped butterfly, and in time, if placed under favorable influences, may leave its crawling, and mount aloft on wings of gold and silver. And it often happens that the worst children make the best men. The fiercest persecutor of the early Church became the chief of the Apostles. He was honest when dragging the saints to prison; and all that was wanted to make him a preacher of the faith which he labored so madly to destroy, was LIGHT.

And so it is still. Some of the most unhappy and unpromising of men and women may require but a gentle word, a glimmer of light, or a manifestation of your kind concern for their welfare, to win their hearts to God. It does not appear that any of the early Christians supposed that there was anything good in the heart of Saul the persecutor, and nothing is said of any attempt on their part to convince him of his error. And many, even when they heard he was converted, could not believe the story. And even Ananias, when told by God Himself that the converted persecutor was praying, could not get over his fears and suspicions all at once. When God said, "Go, and help the poor man," Ananias answered, "Lord, I have heard by many of this man, how much evil he hath done to Thy saints at Jerusalem." But the Lord said unto him, "Go thy way, haste to his help, for he is a chosen vessel unto Me, to bear My name before the Gentiles, and to kings, and to the children of Israel." At last Ananias went his way, and visited the praying penitent. But even after this, when Paul had been preaching for some time with great success, and had made the greatest sacrifices, and braved even death itself, in the cause of Christ, there were numbers who doubted his sincerity. "When he went to Jerusalem, and attempted to join himself to the disciples, they were all afraid of him, and did not believe that he was a disciple." Barnabas however, good man, took him by the hand, and succeeded at length in obtaining for him, to some extent, the advantages of Church fellowship.

Here then we have a couple of lessons; the first is, to seek the conversion of unbelievers; the second is, to guard against an excess of skepticism in ourselves with regard to the sincerity of those who appear to be converted. It would be well in forming our judgments of persons professing religion, to follow the rule laid down by Christ, "By their fruits ye shall know them. A good tree cannot bring forth bad fruit, nor a bad tree good fruit." If men live soberly, righteously, and godly—if they make great sacrifices, and incur reproach and persecution for Christ, and labor zealously in His cause, it is no great stretch of charity to go on the supposition, that their profession of faith in God and Christ is sincere.