THE shortened day and the general change observable on the face of nature, tell us that another season of the year is over, and that the year itself is fast hastening to join those of the past, and to have its events, and the thoughts, feelings, and impulses out of which they sprung, inscribed and sealed up in the archives of heaven. We note these changes, but not always as they should be noted. They read us sad homilies of our mortal existence, brief almost as a spring day with its alternations of clouds and sunshine, but not less vividly and forcibly do they inculcate lessons of a stimulating and inspiring character. The yellow leaves of autumn fall rustling in showers around us, and we deplore the passing away of the summer's freshness, and beauty, and brightness, the cool umbrageous shadow in the noontide hour, the calm quiet fancy-awakening twilight. Not for themselves alone do we regret the passing away of the glory from the grass, and the splendour from the flower. Natural forms, and the changes through which they pass, are to us only the types of changes which we feel within ourselves, and note within the circle of human society in which we move. The flower associates itself, as it were, with our affections, and elicits a sympathy somewhat akin to that which we feel towards the frail and fading humanity, of which we are partakers. And yet we know that the flower does not fade until it has served the end for which it was created, and that not one leaf that falls through the silence of the wide forest withers and loses its hold upon the bough, without having first performed its specific duties. It is a very general supposition that the falling leaves are not only an indication but a consequence of the approach of win

ter.

This view of the interesting natural phenomena, is the one most generally taken in any analogy between it and the course of human life. It is not, however, the correct one, and does not, we think, furnish so complete and impressive an illustration No. I.-NEW SERIES.

of man's existence as is obtained from a knowledge of the proximate cause of it. Leaves vary in their character in proportion to the nature of the climate, and do not all fall together. Those in this country may, however, be classed under three heads-the deciduous, the annual, and the persistent leaves. Each of these has a distinct reference to a certain progress in the growth of the tree, and only quits it when that progress has been attained. The deciduous leaf is directly connected with the ripening of the bud; the annual exercises its functions until new leaves are produced; and the persistent has a longer and less noticeable duty to discharge, numbers of them dropping away as early as midsummer, while others maintain their freshness and sap even when a new generation, so to speak, has sprung up around them. From this it will be seen, that the falling leaf is less an emblem of man's fragility, than of what life in its truest and highest sense ought to be. It were no difficult matter to institute a fanciful comparison between the different classes of leaves, and some of the varied pursuits which occupy our attention, and go to make up the life of each one of us. the truth conveyed in the natural phenomena generally, is like all the lessons which God gives us in his natural revelation, stimulating and cheering. We all do fade as doth a leaf, but there is given to each of us ample time for the discharge of those several duties to each other, for that perfecting of enduring fruit for God's glory, and that forwarding of the general weal, while under His divine law our own natures are developed in relation to these things which go to constitute the end of our being. And in those instances where the leaf of life is to our faint perceptions prematurely shaken from the tree of human society, we know not always what constitutes in God's sight the performance of duty. Mysteriously, but to faith most wisely and well, does he compress the lives of some into VOL. I.

But

what we conceive to be the mere beginnings thereof; and removes from the performance of duty here, when in our estimation the bud is yet unbroken, or the fruit but half formed.

The creatures of the vegetable world are, in relation to this world, the objects of the same divine economy in which we are called upon to labour. We, gifted with the glory, and bearing the burden of intelligent responsibility, invested too with that awfully solemn thing, an undying spirit, may learn not inaptly from those objects of our Maker's care, whose it is only to spring up, put forth their beauty as ministers of his beneficence, his wisdom and his power, and passing away when they have done so. To us there are few sights in the wide domain of nature more beautifully suggestive than the wild flower on the rock, blowing and withering in solitude, unnoticed, save by the eye of Him who made it. It lives only in the sight of nature, which, in the strictest sense, is the manifestation of God's wisdom. It wastes not its sweetness, for its aroma is incense, and its beauty praise. We, then, who are the conscious recipients of His bounty and the conscious objects of his care, may find in this one type a call to duty. Who among the most highly gifted lives as he ought, in the constant remembrance of the great truth that we are here to work for Him who gave us the duty to do, and the capacities wherewithal to do it; who among the meanest ought not to feel that, being placed in the sphere of duty, he is honoured with a call to do that work, and to know that often in His sight, they also serve, who only stand and wait.'

The falling leaves remind us of duty done, and that the season for doing ours is rapidly passing away. Who that allows the thought of the future, beyond this brief and transient present, to cross his mind even in an instantaneous flash, does not feel at once its effect in magnifying as well as in narrowing our estimate of life's duration? On the one hand, we are taught to see that our troubles here are merely passing gusts, sent to shake away the dust which impairs our energies and impedes the working of the vital principle of eternal life within us. We know that we live in this world as the reasonable and responsible agents of God's designs, and that our office and our functions are clearly to work for him while it is called to-day. The night cometh when no man can work-when it may come we know not. It may be that, like the leaves, which were suggestive of freshness and beauty only a few weeks ago, and which now lie withered and dry beneath our feet, we may live on to the autumn of life. But how probable is it that, like those which dropped off amid

the summer's glory, we may be called away in the manhood of our existence? Does not this consideration of the duty to be done, and the uncertainty as to the duration of the season for doing it, magnify every moment of our being? Each day is affecting the eternity to which it bears us; and life, when thus regarded as the opening cycle, so to speak, of an unending existence, becomes a thing so awfully solemn that trifling and indolence seem the very height of folly. But let us also learn that He who ordains to every leaf its duty has also assigned to us a mission of which we cannot know the extent. We only know that He will not gather where he has not strawed; and that if He cuts short the term of our existence here, He has also abridged the duties of it. And we know, moreover, that at its longest term this life is but a passing shadow, when thought of in connexion with that to which it tends. It ought, then, to be ever present to our mind that we are here, not for the things of this mortal state, but for those of the eternal one, and that only in proportion as we realize this truth in our daily walk and conversation, can we be said to be living truly.

SOURCES OF INFIDELITY.

H.

THE first source of infidelity is the corruption of the heart; the weakness of the understanding is only the second. The silence which infidels in general observe respecting the direct and positive proof of Christianity, is a sufficient evidence that they are aware of its strength. They cannot but know that works exist, containing, in a very moderate compass too, the essence of the argument for Christianity, by refuting which, or even by invalidating which, they would be held as the oracles of the world. Yet they decline the trial, not from any diffidence certainly in their own abilities, but from a secret, though deep-seated, consciousness that the arguments for Christianity are invincible. Christians are always ready to meet them in the open field, but they refuse the main combat, and betake themselves to a petty and lingering warfare of detail. They shrink from the face of the direct evidence of Christianity, and spend their time in raising objections to its doctrines. Thus, it is evident, that if infidels neglect the proof of Christianity contained in the writings of Paley and other standard authors, it is not that the arguments are too weak to engage their attention, but that they are too strong; and that if they were more easily refuted they would be more frequently studied. It is the heart that first

forsakes revelation, the head only follows its lead. The purity of Christianity is still more opposed to the lives of infidels, than the doctrines of Christianity are to their understandings.

The second source of infidelity is the narrowness of the human understanding, united to the presumption which naturally proceeds from contracted views, for the less any one knows, the more disposed he is to draw bold and sweeping inferences from his own narrow field of information. There is a necessary difference between the views of the finite, and the infinite understanding. My thoughts are not as your thoughts,' says God. The vision which at a glance takes in the whole of immensity, and the vision which is confined to a mere point, of course, cannot form the same representation of existence. If our narrow and limited mind constitutes itself the judge of the revelation which God has vouchsafed to give us, whether of his own character or of our future destiny, error must unavoidably result from all our reasonings and inquiries. Whether we seek to modify revelation to our own comprehension, with rational divines, or reject it altogether as utterly incomprehensible, with the philosophic infidel, we carry along with us a principle of endless wandering from the truth, which will only bewilder us the more, the more closely we reason upon it, and precipitate us from mistake to mistake till we loose the last glimmer of light, and reach the confines of utter darkness. Infidelity has no facts nor principles to rest upon; like the reveries of ancient philosophy, it has nothing but a priori reasonings to support it, objections drawn from ignorance, and arguments borrowed from preconceived opinions and prejudices. But Christianity, like inductive philosophy, is established wholly upon facts and experience, it appeals to no principles but those which are in every day operation, and it rests upon the same evidence as all the other useful knowledge which we possess; and if there be any difference it is merely this, that the evidence for Christianity has been more strongly objected to, examined and proved, than any other evidence whatsoever.

The third source of infidelity is the imperfection of our knowledge, which, in its best estate is progressive, but never full and perfect. It is evidently the intention of Providence that society should be advancing in knowledge; that one generation should outstrip another, and that mankind are never to rest in any present attainment but are ever to be pressing forward

to

some future discovery. Thus the human faculties have scope for perpetual activity, and none are precluded from exertion by the labours and success of former

generations. But it is evident by this constitution of the moral world, that no age enjoys exactly the same degree of informa tion as another, the system of science which is fitted for one period is unfitted for a succeeding one, and the form of knowledge is ever changing, because continually expanding.

This condition of society precludes religion from giving either a perfect or imperfect disclosure of science. A full revelation of science would be unintelligible to the persons to whom it was immediately addressed, and would supersede, as soon as it was understood, the natural use of our faculities. An imperfect revelation of science could only be fitted to the circumstances of the generation to which it was first communicated, while its partial discoveries would appear like antiquated errors to the succeeding ages, which were ascending to higher eminences of truth. Thus while human science is in its nature progressive and changing, and revelation is absolute and determined; while the one is intended as the exercise of our faculties, and the other as the assistant of our weakness, it is necessary that each be kept distinct from the other, and that religion should employ the universal and permanent language of natural appearances, and not the mutable phraseology of scientific theories.

When religion therefore describes the creation, it describes it as it is pictured to the eye of sense, not as it is conceived by the changing systems of philosophy. The expressions of the Bible are thus equally intelligible to men in every period of time, provided they do not perplex themselves by endeavouring to accommodate the terms of Scripture to their own theories. This difference, however, between science and revelation is perhaps the greatest source of infidel objections. While the rude systems of early astronomy were conformable to the appearance of the heavens, the language of the Bible and of science was nearly the same; but the language of Copernicus, which was conformable to the real, and not the apparent movement of the heavens, sounded harsh to many who looked for philosophic accuracy, instead of universal intelligibility, as the characteristic of the language of divine inspiration. Hence many divines opposed the system of Corpernicus, and many infidels adopted it, for the same reason, that it was supposed to be inimical to the Bible. How much zeal on both sides was expended in idle discussion, while all will now allow, that the sun may rise and set in popular and scriptural language, without any question of the fact that he remains for ever in the centre of his system! It is greatly to be lamented that any pretended defenders

of Christianity should be ignorant of this popular use of language in the Scriptures; it is they who give its venom to the opposition of infidelity. The Bible may easily be defended from the open attacks of its enemies, but not so easily from the fallacious support of its mistaken friends. It would be well that all divines had upon similar subjects the observation of Calvin ever present with them: Moses populariter seripsit, nos potius respexit quam sidera.'-Douglas's Errors regarding Reli

gion.

'OF COURSE.'

In common conversation, this expression of course,' is much used. Its meaning depends on its connection. If one man shall say to another, 'I promised to pay you such an account at such a time, do you expect me to pay it?' the reply would be, ' of course'—and here its meaning is just tantamount to a declaration that the debtor could not break his promise, and that the creditor had the fullest confidence in his honour. If another man shall say to his fellow, 'I have lost my all-I cannot pay my debts, but a friend has offered to defray them for me, on condition that I accept of his suretyship.' 'Do you mean to accept of it then?' asks the other 'of course,' replies the bankrupt. Its meaning here is, that to accept of the proffered suretyship, is, at once, the dictate of gratitude and of necessity that not to do so, would be madness or crime. If a third individual shall say, I owe my present prosperity-yea, my life itself—to the skilful interposition of my generous physician -what shall I render to him?" Your thanks, of course-and as much as in you lies, your substantial services during life.' Its meaning here is, that to be ungrateful and maligning to such a friend, would be unprincipled and heartless.

OF COURSE,' then, means, in the first place, that a man must keep his word. He has made a promise to pay an account, and he will do it. Not to do so, is out of the question-he is truth-loving and trustworthy of course, he will pay his account. Now, reader, can you make the application here? You are a believer in the existence of God, and of course, in the obligation resting upon you, to pay him all obedience. You have said that you will do this-he expects you to do it. Can it be said of you, of course, the word is kept, the debt is honoured? We fear much that the use of these simple words, may, in your case, be quite misapplied. OF COURSE, certainly it ought to be—but very often it is not so. If your life be a worldly one, do you not feel disposed to smile at the idea of their ap

plication to you? O no-it is not, of course, with you, that you keep your promises with your best friend. You break them daily: and so far from labouring to pay him what you owe, you defraud him of every farthing—that is, you keep him out of all your thoughts, and suffer none of his mind to influence yours. Rest assured that you are watched. Of course, God expects you to be holy, and fearful must be the consequence to you when He is surprised (I speak as a man,') at the discovery of your ungodliness-no plea will avail you in the judgment. If you try one, He will say, 'did you not owe all your mercies to me?-did you not promise to serve me in consequence?" Unless you are an Atheist, you must reply in the affirmative. If so, his answer to you must be, 'Of course, I took you at your word-I expected that you would live soberly, righteously, and godly' in the world: but seeing that it is not so, I must, of course, leave you to the consequences,' O reader, be not deceived; God is not mocked: whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also

reap.

OF COURSE means, in the second place, that it is the dictate of common sense: yea, of ordinary gratitude, for a man involved in misfortunes, to accept of efficient assistance in order to being extricated from them. Can the reader, in this view, make the application?-you are guilty and condemned-you owe God everything, and you can pay him nothing. He has sent his only begotten Son to obey all his commandments in your stead, and to bear all the punishment due to you for your sins. He tells you, that if you will accept of Christ's suretyship, all your sins shall be forgiven, and you shall be dealt by the lawgiver as if you never had sinned at all-yea, that by-and-by he will call you up to the enjoyment of a life of inconceivable blessedness. Well, then, is it of course' with you here? Have you closed with the great God in these overtures? Do you now believe? Do you consciously offer him and his righteousness to God every day that your sins may be blotted out, and your services accepted? O would to God, you could in sincerity reply, of course,' I do. What! do you take me for a fool? I am a child of wrath, and Christ is a deliverer from the wrath to come-of course, I flee to him. I am a worthless creature, with scarce a rag upon me to cover my nakedness, and the everlasting Father himself has given commandment, and the 'best robe is brought forth of course I must 'put it on.' I have no atonement of my own to offer-of course, if I accept not Christ's I must die and be for ever lost-but, God forbid, Christ's is freely offered to me, and, of course, I make it my own by faith. The

OF COURSE means, in the third place, that to be grateful and serviceable to a generous benefactor, is one of the issues of a wellprincipled heart. Does the reader apply this? Jesus Christ is the Saviour of sinners-He loved them from eternity-He came into this world, and submitted to agony and death that they might live. Hence he asks of all that take the benefit of his righteousness, that they love him in return, and prove their love by living for him, and on him, and to him--by considering themselves not their own, but bought with a price,' and, therefore, bound to take an active part in any scheme that seeks the conversion of men by the spread of the Gospel. Reader! what is thy answer to all this? Is it, of course?' I was dying of the spiritual distemper of sin, and Jesus healed me. I was rapidly sinking into irretrievable ruin, and Jesus rescued me. He made me rich in the blessings of his grace, and actually gave me a title to an inheritance in heaven. To such a physician and benefactor I am, of course,' I must be, very thankful-my restored health, my renewed faculties, my extended opportunity are all, of course, surrendered to him-they are his, not mine; and I am not my own, but his also. All these, certainly, ought to be matters, of course; for if ever there was imposed upon man the obligation to be passionately attached to any one, or to any cause under the sun, it is imposed upon him who professes to be a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ. What ought to be, however, in many cases, is not. Reader, perhaps, of course, in this mind belies your state. You are not grateful to Jesus Christ-you do not crucify your flesh-you do not live in endearing communion with God-you conform to the world-you gratify the cravings of the flesh-you yield to the rules of the devil-you grudge that dear Lord your time, zeal, silver, and, so far as you are concerned, satisfaction would never be given to Christ's soul, nor salvation heralded either near or far away to the perishing. If it be so, and if you so live and die, then, OF COURSE, you are a heartless creature whatever others may think of you -a sordid being you are-amiable and agreeable in the eyes of others, but in the eye of God pitiful and unhappy. OF COURSE you will become more and more

so while you live, and when you die God will cast you off, and, of course, you will be tor ever damned. Be entreated, then, to ponder the path of thy feet. Yield thy heart and soul up to Jesus-live for him -say, 'Thine I am, Jesus, and on thy side, thou Son of God;-live, O live for him who lived for thee a life of sorrows, and then died. O see to it that you die in him who died for thee an accursed death, and then, oF COURSE, you will die in peace, and your happy soul shall go to be for ever with the Lord. J. M'F.

CARLYLE'S LIFE OF STERLING.*

WE must express our surprise that Carlyle should have become the biographer of a literateur, to celebrate or judge the daily running of a tasked journalist's pen hither and thither. Obviously, this is a descent, not only from his 'mission,' which, in his own estimation, has been regularly culminating to some point of yet unapproached and hitherto unknown grandeur of usefulness to mankind: but also a descent from the themes of all his later productions. The prophet and harbinger of a NEW RELIGION for the world, to step aside, when the coming blessing was almost, if we could believe him, at his heels, and be the evangelist of John Sterling, who was the author of a play, several tales and poems, and a few critical articles! The builder of a new temple for man, to intermit the sublime work, and devote himself to the execution of a tombstone for a young literary man, who had more than a hundred superiors among his contemporaries! Carlyle has, for years, been busy in finding a God for those whose religious faith he had destroyed, and for all Christendom, whose Deity he vehemently wishes to be thrown away amid the rubbish of Pagan idols, long ago discarded: and certainly, for him-when so much was expected from his researches in the 'Silences,' the

Immensities,' and the Eternities,' from the awful recesses of which he was looked for each day with a God in his hand-to appear with an image of John Sterling, is discreditable to himself, and cruelly tantalizing to his followers.

We took the same objection to Mr Carlyle, when he published his 'Latter-day Pamphlets: but of course, not with the same emphasis as in the present case. When he was understood to be earnestly occupied in preparing for universal adoption a new religion, it was a descent for him to issue a new national policy, and to prescribe what the Queen, Governments, Parliaments, jailers, executioners, and

*Second Edition. London: Chapman & Hall. 1852.