afterwards form a conception of them, and can then learn what the word blue signifies, or the objects to which it is applicable. Not so in the moral world; sense renders no aid here. The primary application of the words right and wrong is not to visible or tangible things, or even to any outward act, but to the secret purposes of the heart; for however strange or mischievous the deed may appear, as soon as we ascertain that it was unintentional, or that it proceeded from the best motives, we immediately relieve the doer from any moral blame. Just as the understanding discerns resemblance or contrariety between two ideas, does the moral faculty pronounce that truth-telling is right, and falsehood wrong; the only distinction between the two cases is, that, in the former one, the mental act terminates when the judgment is formed, truth or knowledge being the only end in view; while, in the latter, the conception of duty or moral obligation immediately rises, the judgment pointing directly to action. It is not properly a judgment, then, but a precept or command. I not only know that falsehood is wrong, but I feel that veracity is a duty, that I am bound on all occasions to tell the truth. More properly speaking, indeed, the conception of duty is involved in the judgment of right, and forms a part of it; to perceive the motive to be sinful, and to recognize the obligation to repress it, is one and the same act. It was remarked, further, that the paramount character of moral obligation over all other motives or incentives to conduct is involved in the very idea of obligation. It is an impertinence to ask for a foundation for the supremacy of conscience. He who commands, indeed, assumes that he has authority; and we often reasonably doubt the fact, and require him to show his commission. But in so doing, we virtually acknowledge that there is authority somewhere, that a higher power exists, whom we are bound to obey, and who is capable of delegating his right to command. Now it is only by a metaphor, though an apt and natural one, that we speak of the commands, or the voice, of conscience. It is the office of this faculty to create that primitive and simple feeling of obligation which is expressed by the word ought, and which alone gives to duty and authority any proper meaning. There is a common confusion of thought here. With regard to a particular act or duty, it is reasonable to inquire if I am under a moral obligation to perform or to cherish it; but when this point is ascertained, to seek a reason for that obligation is to ask why it is a duty to perform a duty, which is nonsense. It is demonstrable that no answer can be given to the question which will prevent it from being instantly repeated. That what is right is of higher authority than what is merely expedient is evident from the simple fact that right and obligation are correlative terms, or merely two aspects of the same idea; while obligation does not enter at all into the meaning of the word expedient. It is with great diffidence that I venture to differ on this point from so eminent an authority in ethical science as Sir James Mackintosh. But what he has here attempted to add to the theory of ethics as expounded by Bishop Butler seems to me a violation of the simplicity and truth of the whole scheme, and, instead of furnishing a basis for the authoritative claims of conscience, to deprive this faculty of that original and supreme authority which is its most striking characteristic. There is a fundamental difference between the ideas of obligation and compulsion, which, though often lost sight of in the metaphorical use of language, is essential to any proper understanding of the subject. A subordinate officer may say, that he is obliged to obey the commands of his superior; but this is constraint, not duty; because he knows, that if need were, a file of soldiers would enforce the command. On the other hand, the dictates of conscience are enforced by no power whatever. Any one may disobey them who will. But, even in the moment of disobedience, he is conscious that he is violating an obligation, properly so called, which is in its very nature supreme. We do not do right because God commands it, but God commands it because it is right. The idea of moral obligation, then, I speak it reverently, lies behind the authority of the Almighty, and is the only buttress of his throne. As for the other supports that have - been devised for the sense of duty, that the action is obligatory because it is expedient, or because it is conformable to reason, to order, or to the fitness of things, they hardly merit notice. is, And here I rest what I had to say upon the moral nature of man as preparatory to the further inquiry into the attributes of the Deity, and into that manifestation of them which calls for the religious homage of the whole human family. The question now - Have we satisfactory assurance, even from the light of nature, that God does indeed govern the earth? and if so, by what rule does he govern it? The doctrine of uninterrupted Divine agency, which was considered at length, and, as I think, established, in the former Course, teaches us, indeed, that all events are of his disposal; but the doctrine was then viewed chiefly in relation to physical occurrences, or to what are called the laws of the outward world. Is the moral world equally under his guidance and dominion? and does conscience, in its purity and supremacy, only mirror to us the light of his countenance? Is man, also, in his intellectual and moral nature, subject to laws as inflexible as those which govern the planets in their courses? and as the latter manifest to us the wisdom and power of the Lawgiver, so do the former evince to us his justice, benevolence, and holiness? The answer of these questions in the affirmative, upon satisfactory grounds, you perceive, will afford evidence a posteriori of the moral character of the Deity, and, as a necessary consequence, of the religious duties of man. It is customary with writers upon this subject, I am well aware, to proceed entirely upon abstract reasoning, and to deduce the moral attributes from the natural ones, the whole doctrine resting upon arguments a priori. Thus, the doctrine of the omniscience of the Divine Being is upheld as "a necessary inference from that of a universal Creator. He who made all creatures and things — that is to say, who gave them their being and properties. cannot but know the being and properties which himself has given, and the ways in which they will be developed and will operate." Again, - the infinite benevolence and holiness of God are deduced immediately from a consideration of his omniscience and infinite power and wisdom. - Now I am far from denying the validity of such reasoning as this, and there is unquestionably a certain class of minds so peculiarly constituted that it is more satisfactory to them than any other. But it seems to me to be chargeable with this great defect, that unless it can be supported by the evidence of facts, that is, by observation and experience, it leaves the inquirer in a worse condition than he was before he began the study of the subject. Of what use is it to demonstrate to him by abstract reasoning, that the Almighty must govern in holiness the world which he has made, when, from his knowledge of history, from the mode in which he has been accustomed to look upon natural occurrences and the conduct of mankind, and from his personal experience, he is compelled to doubt whether the world is governed at all? Perplexed by this contradiction between reason and experience, he will be tempted to reject the doctrine and the argument along with it, not that he can detect any flaw in the latter, but because he is obliged to distrust the power of the human mind ever to arrive at any truth. Prove to him that an omniscient God must necessarily be infinitely benevolent and holy, and at the same time allow him to believe that the history of mankind is one long record of wretchedness and sin, and what conclusion can he draw except that the doctrine of a superintending Providence is either an inexplicable mystery or a delusion, or that reasoning which seems to be demonstrative is in truth wholly treacherous and unsound? The adoption of the latter alternative only adds skepticism in philosophy to disbelief in religion. If we were concerned with the truths of theology only as we are with the principles of abstract science, then this mode of evolving them one from the other in logical succession, as it would add to the symmetry and elegance of the theory, and lead to no consequences that would be practically injurious, might well be adopted, if for no other reason, yet as a diversion of the intellect. But as matters of immediate and momentous interest, it behooves us to study them in such a manner as to leave clear and deeply rooted convictions in the soul. They relate not merely to faith, but to practice; and experience is therefore our surest guide in the investigation, and the safest teacher in conduct. By approaching the subject in this manner, we remove the difficulties alleged by the skeptic before laying the foundations of our religious belief, and then proceed to erect the structure with a firmer assurance that "the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." I go back, therefore, to the question as I first propounded it :— Looking at the world only as the theatre of human experience, is there sufficient evidence that it is constantly under the government of its Creator, who directs the conduct, and takes an interest in the welfare, of the beings whom he has made? The inanimate universe and the inferior orders of living creatures, as we have seen, depend immediately, and in all their movements, upon the constant care and agency of the Supreme Being. The same power which brought them into existence sustains and guides them, whether in motion or at rest. Every event, every change in their condition, from the falling of an atom up to the revolutions of a system of worlds, is attributable directly to the agency of God. But this agency here is immediate and exclusive; it is the direct exercise of power, not coöperating with or modified by any power inherent in the bodies themselves, but negativing the existence of such secondary power; it is constraint, not government. But man is a free agent; in one sense, and to a certain extent, he governs himself. Endowed with freewill, and left to choose among many motives of action, his obedience, if rendered at all, is voluntary, not mechanical. Is such obedience claimed of him? Is man, also, under Divine government, the will of his Creator being signified to him in language that he cannot mistake, and enforced, not indeed by the iron law of necessity, which is incompatible with his whole moral nature, but by such considerations as may influence the conduct of a free and rational being? To this question it is usual to answer, as Bishop Butler has |