ated; a coarse and blasphemous one, like that of Paine and Carlile, would be scouted with general indignation. But the tolerant and inquiring spirit of the age, fond of innovations and reputed discoveries in philosophy and science, is ready to listen to any doctrine which is recommended by the purity of life of those who hold it. If religion does not impose any new duties, nor create any additional obligation, many will gladly save themselves the trouble of looking into its evidences, and of choosing among the various forms under which it is presented to their notice.

Against this vague notion of the inutility of religious belief, I have only to bring the obvious consideration, that every relation of life has its appropriate and peculiar sphere of duties; and of all such relations, the nearest and most important is that which connects man with his God. We are not isolated beings; intimate ties bind us to our kindred, our country, and our fellowmen; and each bond of union is a source of obligation, of affections to be cherished, and offices to be performed. Our moral nature is adapted to these various relations; specific affections corresponding to them are implanted in the soul, and the sense of duty requires their cultivation and exercise. Strongest and holiest among these is the religious sentiment, which leads our thoughts up to the great Author of our being, and finds its appropriate gratification in worship and prayer. Supporting rather than supported by conscience, it asserts rightful supremacy over all other motives of conduct, and lends a new aspect to every duty in which we may be engaged. Though often perverted and obscured by ignorance, prejudice, or a false philosophy, there are times when the most indifferent are compelled to listen to it, and to heed its dictates. It does not supersede conscience, but enlarges the field of its activity, introducing into it the new duties which grow out of what is perhaps our newly discovered relation to the omnipotent Creator and righteous Judge of all the children of men.

And further, the assumption, that the secret monitor within the breast is all-sufficient for its work, and needs no aid from religion

to enable it to maintain a perfect system of morals, is supported neither by reason nor experience. Conscience speaks with rightful authority, but its voice cannot always be heard; it is often overpowered by temptation, or drowned in the din of the passions. It enforces the law of justice and right only so far as this law is made known to it through the reason; and therefore, if not enlightened and instructed, it acts in a very contracted sphere. Religion is its only competent teacher and guide, as well as the chief source of its strength. In fact, the sublime idea of absolute purity and rectitude in thought and act, which is the present end and aim of our moral being, was first proclaimed on earth by the founder of Christianity, and never has been sincerely pursued but by his disciples. We cannot now repudiate the authority of the giver, and still hope to possess the gift; it is placed so far above us, that, without his aid, we cannot attain to it, or even keep it steadily in sight. As well might one who has with difficulty climbed to a giddy height, till his outstretched arms could just reach the desired object, safely thrust away the ladder from beneath him, and hang suspended only by his hands over the awful depth below. Morality has no safeguard but religion, and the two must be accepted or rejected together.

LECTURE II.

THE HUMAN DISTINGUISHED FROM THE BRUTE MIND.

AMONG the works of creation, the study of which leads us up to a knowledge of the being and attributes of God, the foremost place is occupied by man himself. We are ourselves his offspring, creatures whom he has endowed with a peculiar physical, intellectual, and moral organization, the properties and tendencies of which reflect the character and purposes of our Maker. The marvellous structure of our bodies, these tenements of clay which we inhabit for a season, shows his wisdom, his constant agency, his designing care; so also the constitution of our minds, the laws by which our sensations, ideas, and judgments are formed and made to succeed each other, are so many tokens of the Divine will and character. They show what part God intended we should act upon the theatre of the universe. Still further, in our moral nature, or the emotions that are excited in us by the sight of surrounding objects and events, and especially by the contemplation of our own acts, and of those of our fellowbeings, we find our only means of knowing what the moral attributes of God are, and what, if any, is his scheme of moral government. Practically speaking, we are concerned to know, not so much what things are in themselves, as the manner in which we are affected by the sight of them, and by living in the midst of them. The fitness of objects to give pleasure to man depends equally on the characteristic qualities of those objects, and on the susceptibility of the human mind to pleasure of one

kind rather than another, and indeed on its capacity of being pleased at all.

We come, therefore, to an examination of the nature and functions of conscience, as the first point of our inquiry. My object will be to show, that man is not merely an intellectual being, placed here on earth to satisfy his curiosity, to improve his rational nature, and to provide for his own well-being. This would be a conceivable end of his creation, but it is notoriously not the real end. If he had the intellectual faculties of an archangel, and this earth were a paradise for his habitation, affording every object that could gratify his desires and promote his happiness, if enjoyment brought no satiety, and labor no fatigue, if his birth were only an introduction to active pleasure, and death were nothing but painless extinction, then we could easily attribute unlimited benevolence to his Creator, and consider that man's only purpose in life was to pass on from one phase of happiness to another. Why is it, that we do not regard this as the actual, or even as a desirable, plan of human existence ? It is only an obscure reference to such a scheme which lends any force, or indeed any meaning, to the oft-repeated complaints about the existence of evil under the government of a God of infinite benevolence. Yet when such a plan of life is presented for us to contemplate at once in its entireness, we almost instinctively reject it, as not admitting the existence of those qualities which now constitute the true ornament and dignity of human nature, and as making no provision for their cultivation, even if they did exist. A more authoritative principle than self-love declares to us that the practice of virtue is higher than the pursuit of enjoyment, that holiness is more desirable than happiness, and that the Divine government, in so far as it shows infinite jus tice and benevolence combined, and affords scope for progress and effort, as well as for the gratification of desires ending in self, is in truth the noblest conceivable expression of the wisdom and goodness of God.

To prove this point, and to show by contrast the true nature of the moral faculty in man, I propose to go some way back,

and to examine the only case within the sphere of human observation where intellectual are not combined with moral qualities, and where, consequently, enjoyment for the time must be regarded as the sole end of existence. I refer, of course, to the mental constitution of brutes, or of all orders of animated being which are inferior to man. The subject is confessedly an obscure one; but I doubt not that enough of it may be made out with certainty to answer all the purposes of this discussion. If the investigation should lead to the establishment of a broad distinction between man and the brute, so as to show that the mental endowments of the latter differ from those of the former, not in degree only, but in kind, this will be a collateral advantage, which will help us to clear up some other difficulties in our subject.

Let me limit the object and extent of the inquiry in the outset. With respect either to the human or the brute mind, we can only ask what it does; it would be idle to inquire what it is, for we are ignorant of the inward nature, the essential constitution, of both. In the one case, it is true, we have the aid of consciousness, while in the other we are restricted to external observation. But why that unit of being which we call man, or mind, should have one set of powers and susceptibilities rather than another, is a question which mere physical or metaphysical science does not pretend to answer, otherwise than by saying, that such is the will of his Creator; the moralist or the theologian may here come in, and show the reasonableness of that will, but even he cannot tell how it is carried into effect. In the case of the brute, of course, we can only look at its outward acts, and thence dimly infer its peculiarities of mental organization.

Now there is no action whatever, considered merely as a visible fact, as an exercise of nerves and muscles, which many brutes cannot perform nearly or quite as well as men. They walk, leap, run, and climb; they eat, drink, and continue their species; they weep, cry, and even articulate. From their outward acts alone, then, it seems impossible to deduce the characteristic feature of their mental nature. Luckily, a third question