INAUGURAL DISCOURSE.

THE liberality of our citizens, and especially of one distinguished individual,* who bore a name which has long been honored, and which I hope will long continue to be honored among us, having afforded new facilities for theological instruction in this University, an additional professorship has in consequence been founded. About to enter on the duties of this new office, I have thought that it would not be uninteresting or useless to speak of the extent and relations of the science of theology, or, in other words, of the intellectual acquisitions required to constitute a consummate theologian. I can, it is true, do little more than lead you to an eminence, and point out hastily the great features of the prospect which lies before us; but

* Samuel Dexter, the elder.

even this rapid view may not be altogether unprofitable.

In such a survey, it is in its relations to metaphysics, that theology may be first considered. It treats of God, and of man considered as an immortal being. Upon these subjects revelation has taught us truths the most important; and some of the noblest and most powerful efforts of human reason have been employed in deducing the same truths from the moral and physical phenomena by which we are surrounded. It is one part of the business of a theologian to make himself familiar with those reasonings by which the mind, now that it has been educated by Christianity, is able, even when trusting to its own powers and resources alone, to establish or render probable the truths of religion. He must become the interpreter of the works and providence of God, and qualify himself to perceive the harmony between the two revelations which God has given us; that, which is made known by the laws governing the world, as they proceed in their regular operation; and that, of which the divine origin was attested by the presence of a power controlling and suspending those laws. He will find a perfect harmony between them; and will perceive that the evidences of both, though de

rived from sources very remote from each other, flow together at last, and bear us on to one common object, the truth of the essential principles of religion.

Yet, notwithstanding the strength of argument by which these principles are supported, we cannot but remark that our conclusions are embarrassed by some difficulties; and we know that scepticism has labored to overthrow all our reasonings. The theologian, in pursuing his inquiries respecting these difficulties and objections, if he be determined to follow them to the uttermost, will be obliged to go on to the very limits of human knowledge, to the barriers beyond which our minds cannot pass. He must fix a steady attention upon ideas abstract, shadowy, and inadequate. Where the last rays begin to be lost in utter darkness, he must distinguish in the doubtful twilight between deceptive appearances and the forms of things really existing. He must subject to a strict scrutiny words and expressions which often deceive us, and often mock us with only a show of meaning. He must engage in difficult processes of reasoning, in which the terms of language, divested of their usual associations, become little more than algebraic symbols; and, in pursuing these processes, he must pro

ceed with the greatest attention and accuracy, because a single false step may render his conclusions altogether erroneous.

The inquiries to which we are led by the objections of the sceptic are curious, and in some respects important. But they are not those in which a man of sound mind will habitually delight. He will pass from them to studies more satisfactory, and which have a more direct influence upon the conduct and happiness of men, with feelings similar to those of the voyager, who, having visited the wonderful regions of polar solitude, where the sun dazzles but does not fertilize, is returning to a mild, inhabited, and cultivated climate. No triumph over religion can be achieved by metaphysical scepticism till it has first undermined the foundations of all rational belief. The temple in which we worship is placed within the citadel of human reason; and, before it can be approached for the purpose of destruction, all knowledge not intuitive must have been surrendered. He who doubts the existence of God has left himself no truth, dependent on moral evidence, which he can reasonably believe.

We learn the character of God by a wide induction from the laws of his moral government, and from the objects and phenomena of the

physical world. Here, then, is another field of study opened to the theologian. We are surrounded by an unknown and immeasurable power, which is every moment producing motion and life, and manifesting itself by effects the most astonishing and admirable. We must study the character of this power in its works. We must borrow aid from that science which has "wheeled in triumph through the signs of heaven." We must enter the lecture-room of the anatomist, and learn how "fearfully and wonderfully we are made." And we must follow the student of nature to the fields, and woods, and waters, to rocks and mines, and inquire of the objects to which he directs us, what they can teach of their Maker. These studies are to be pursued, not merely as furnishing materials for argument, but because they awaken and render vivid our feelings of devotion. In contemplating the perfections of God without reference to his works, they present themselves to us as metaphysical abstractions, which in their obscurity and vastness mock our comprehension. But when we turn to his works, we perceive his power, wisdom, and goodness embodied, as it were, and rendered visible.

But our religious faith rests, for its main sup