Dissent; the rejection of the forms which the spirit of Puritanism had outgrown, which was its childhood in England.

Something further, however, remains to be said respecting Nonconformity, or we shall not have put it before our readers with sufficient clearness for our design. We have seen how Puritanism remained in communion with the Church, hoping against hope, and striving, without the chance of success, to secure the means of nurturing and expressing personal piety in connexion with it, and this marks the boundary of that stage of the spiritual progress we are tracing. The boundary of the second stage, Nonconformity, is equally clear. Although the Church was forsaken, and forms unknown to it set up, the right of the secular power to protect and enforce religion was never questioned. The Nonconformists advanced no bolder proposition than this, that the forms of religion which the State should establish ought to be those most faithfully accordant with the word of God. Theirs was a noble position, but not the noblest; it indicated. great progress in spiritual discernment, but it fell far short of its last attainment; it evinced ardent aspiration after what was good, and true, and beautiful, but not the apprehension of what was sought. They contended for it like men possessed by, but not possessed of, the thought which inspired them. We need but refer to the imposition of the 'Solemn League and Covenant' by law; to the exercise of the secular power obtained by Cromwell in favour of Evangelical religion; to the persecutions by which the Pilgrim Fathers' attempted to uphold their establishment in New England; to the Bartholomean Farewell Sermons; for the proof that the power of the State in spiritual affairs was acknowledged by the Nonconformists. It was this which showed that they had not reached to the complete development of the truth which they knew-that it had not for them become pure from all earthly mixtures and defilement.

Dissent itself is so far in advance of both Nonconformity and Puritanism, that it could not be expected that we should find the traces of its appearance so broadly marked in history as we have found those of the earlier stages of the principle it embodies. The only large display of it, and that not a very extensive one, is seen in the rise of the 'Society of Friends.' It was dimly perceived, but not seized, by many in those days; and here and there one, such as Milton and Roger Williams, fully and broadly stated it; what they said of the Church of Rome being but a seeming exception to their apprehension of the principle. In every age, the few who, like Milton, have lived as ever in their great task-master's eye,' and have not merely sought to possess religion as an inward, spiritual life, and to express it by ap propriate forms; but have also been persuaded that it must be derived by the immediate communion of the heart with God, and that it is impossible for man, save freely and self-moved, to enter into this communion; that by the authority and intervention of either secular or spiritual authority, religion can neither be acquired nor cherished; and that He who said, My kingdom is not of this world,' holds every effort of men to extend it by other force than the conviction of the

understanding, and the persuasiveness of love, is not supererogatory labour, but actual rebellion against him; they who have seen this, and for whom it has been living truth, they are Dissenters.

Dissent says, Religion is the filial relation of the individual spirit to God, the Father of spirits; and that, therefore, it is only by means which respect and harmonize with his individuality, as all the means revealed to man by God himself in the gospel do, that any one can become religious. Not merely can no priestly agency effect this-no power can. The name of religion, some of its outward aspects and forms, may be assumed at the bidding of pope or king; but neither their command, nor the command of any human authority whatever, can enforce the reception of religion itself. Individual responsibility to God, the law of our consciences, echoed and confirmed by God's own revelation by his Son-this is the firm rock-foundation of Dissent; and that only is Dissent, which, like-natured with it, is truly built upon this great first truth.

Such is the last step in this progress; the full growth of the principle we have traced from its earliest germ; its manhood, and complete purification from all that was not it, nor of it. We are compelled by our limits to overlook, or rather to omit, the shorter stages in this development, as we have already said; but if the main distinctions are apprehended, the applications of the lessons will be possible; and that is enough. We wish it, however, to be seen, that when this last step is reached, all that is true in the former steps is also attained. And it requires but the slightest exercise of thought to perceive, that where the consciousness of individual responsibility to God is the mainspring and impulse of life, there personal piety, expressing itself by its own beautiful and befitting forms, and not the outward appearance of devoutness, using forms hallowed by age, or imposed by power, will be regarded as the truth. And the effort will be, not to constrain by any means the adoption of the same opinions, but by the proper means to awaken the same consciousness of relationship to God.

But "the Voluntary Principle"-what place does it hold in the progressive development of this Truth? It is, really, one of the spontaneous expressions of Dissent; but, like all outward and terrene affairs, it is easily imitated by those who know nothing of the life it properly manifests. As the expression of Dissent (such as we have described it), it would have made no noise, obtained no name, but have performed its tasks, silently and unknown. As most frequently used, it is the fundamental maxim of Trade carried into Religious matters-pay for what you order and receive-honest enough, but simply carthly; and not at all wanted in Religion, which has something better than trademaxims-the spirit of Christ.

Looking now, from the position we have gained, over the whole field of our inquiry, we can not only perceive that this principle of personal responsibility was the obscure, but sure, ground of all that was true in Puritanism and Nonconformity; and that its obscurity was the cause of the mistakes and imperfections, the omissions and inconsistencies, of those who upheld them; but can judge also of many things

that proceed around us. Thus we see that the "Catholic" element in the Church of England has its representatives in the maintainers of "Church Principles ;" and the State element, in the Erastian, "Low Churchmen," amongst our politicians; while the spirit of the Reformation, three hundred years after date, is embodied in the Evangelical party. Nor do we less see, that to invoke the assistance of the law against creeds and churches, against misbelief and unbelief, which our piety has not sufficient force to overthrow; to fortify our position by attacks on the dogmas or the teachers whom we disown; to "contend for the faith" by petitions to Parliament, and addresses to the Sovereign for "redress of grievances "; to seek for the political recognition of our denominations; to suffer the blandishments of statesmen to enervate our energy, and to laud the flatterers as " Friends of Civil and Religious Liberty"; to hold our principles in abeyance for the sake of enjoying a brief and petty municipal authority; to acknowledge the claims of the State Church incidentally, on pretence of obedience to Law; to become the "clients" of a party, and submissively receive its annual “dole ";-that to do such things implies worse than ignorance of our personal accountability. And surely they who, while they openly and manfully disavow the claims of the State, and of the established authorities over spiritual matters, to control their faith, notwithstanding, suffer other influences to interfere with their reception and manifestation of God's truth, never have seen, in all its light, and fulness, and power, the declaration of Scripture, that " every one of us shall give account of himself unto God."

Buman Nature-its Religions Element.

UNDOUBTEDLY, the most interesting phenomenon presented to the observer of the human race is its religion. It is here that we see the stirring of its deepest feelings, the movement of its mightiest powers, and the development of its highest destinies.

We speak thus of the religion of the race, without any distinction of its kinds, whether into the false and the true, or into the more or less erroneous and corrupt. However diversified, and however apparently contrary, even, in its manifestations and results, it is in all cases the working, not merely of one and the same nature, but of one and the same element of that nature, as it may be acted upon, or be brought into action by, diverse objects and influences. False and true worship are equally worship, and worship made what it is only by its correspondence with the objects by which it is awakened, and in which the falsehood and truth respectively may be said primarily to reside.

In the preceding paragraph we have assumed a principle, which it will be proper to bring somewhat more into the light. We have spoken of religion as one of the many workings of human nature, and as the working of a peculiar element in it. Now we know that religion, broadly contemplated, requires to be regarded as both objective and subjective. There is, no doubt, an objective religion-that is to say, there are objects and ideas by which the religious emotions of mankind are called forth. And as these objects and ideas are of widely-diversified character, so they naturally throw themselves into kindred groups, constituting so many different religions, or systems of religious conceptions-as the Zend, the Buddhist, the Mahometan, the Christian.

But there is also a subjective religion-a religion, that is to say, which consists in the sentiments, emotions, purposes, and consecration of man; or, in other words, in an excitement of the human mind corresponding with the objects presented to it, and exerting their influence upon it. It is in this sense that we now speak of religion, and in this sense only.

Religion thus subjectively regarded-the religion of the human race-presents to us an aspect of great and illimitable diversity, an aspect almost chaotic. The religious exercises of no two human minds are perfectly similar: so that there might, in one sense, be said to be as many religions as there are men; they may, however, be, without difficulty, and not unnaturally, thrown into groups, corresponding with the classification of the objects by which they are excited. Yet these groups are still numerous and various, and one instinctively feels a desire to see them reduced, if possible, not only to a smaller number, but to some common and simple element, of which they may be taken to be only varied manifestations. As such we have ventured to speak of them.

For, as religion, objective and the

And we think we have not ventured too far. generally speaking, may be distinguished into the subjective, so subjective religion, it appears to us, may be distinguished into the concrete and the abstract. Very much of a man's religion, for example—all of it that is visible, and a great deal that is invisible-consists in acts of worship, deeds of piety or duty, and exercises of feeling; but when we have mentioned these things, we are far from having spoken of the whole of his religion. There is yet something behind all this, or at the basis of it, which causes it to be what it is, and which itself would be if these things were not, and is when these things are not. These are all temporary and transient, but something permanent is within, and something which not only makes feelings and deeds to be what they are now, but guarantees a similarity as often as feelings and doings return. There is the man behind these actings of the man: a certain permanent and ruling state of sentiment and choice, which, while all the rest may be regarded as religion in the concrete, we have used the liberty of calling religion in the abstract or which, if it please our readers better, we will call the essence of religion.

From the existence of such a permanent and ruling state of sentiment and choice in the human mind in relation to religious objects, it is natural, and indeed obvious, to infer that a capacity for forming such a state belongs to the race. This is an original faculty of man, a primitive power of being religious, broadly distinguishing mankind from the brute creation, and most congruously associated with their rational endowments. This it is which is brought into play when religious sentiment and action are manifested in any modes, whether false or true; as truly in the varied forms of pagan idolatry—whether in the Chaldaic adoration of the stars, or in prostration before an African fetish-as in the worship of the living God. Further than this, however, it is necessary to go. It is not enough to affirm, that there is in man the capacity of forming that permanent and ruling state of sentiment and choice which we find to exist; there must be some primary sentiment or conception, on the basis, and under the influence, of which it is actually formed. And after this primary sentiment or conception it is that we inquire. Our question is, What sentiment or conception has place so universally and profoundly in man's heart, as to supply at once the impulse and the guide to religious development? In other words, What is the religious element in human nature?

Mr. Morell, after Schleiermacher, has answered this question by placing the peculiar essence of religion' in man's sense of dependence.'* We cannot say that this representation is satisfactory to us. Without doubt, indeed, a sense of dependence must be deemed perfectly natural to the human race, and wholly inseparable from the condition of dependence they so manifestly and palpably occupy; but it requires to be shown how this is, or can be, the germ of the religious life. The argument adduced is, that the sense of dependence may give origin to the sense of deity,' or to the conception of God. Even if this were admitted, however, all that could follow would be, that the sense of dependence might be one of the germs of the religious life, not that it could be exclusively such; since it is not shown to be impossible that the conception of God may be derived from other sources also. Nor would this be the only objection. The sense of dependence, we are instructed, may-not must-give origin to a sense of deity. The difference seems to us to be essential. If all that can be asserted is, that the sense of dependence may give origin to a sense of deity, then it remains true that it may not do so; and a sentiment of so uncertain operation cannot, we think, be fitly regarded as the source of a universal and constant development. But we do not know that the principle itself is to be admitted. How is the sense of dependence to give origin to the sense of deity? By, we are told, the following process. By means of it, 'we can reach the sphere of infinity; for the moment our consciousness attains that elevation in which our finite self becomes nothing in the presence of infinity, eternity, and omnipotence, the accompanying state of emotion is one which involves an absolute object;

* Philosophy of Religion, p. 76.