establishment of Christian morals. Pure Christianity is above all religions likely to affect industry favorably. What is Christianity? Not your isms nor my ism; not your doxy nor my doxy; not your Church nor my Church; not your communion nor my sect; not your articles nor my creed; not your liturgy nor my free prayer. Somewhat of Christianity may be in all these things, but they are not Christianity! What then is it? He who ought to know tells us what it is like. He says it is like a man having a hundred sheep, and losing one of them, going after the lost sheep till he find it. It is like a woman having ten pieces of silver, and losing one, lighting a candle, sweeping the house, and searching diligently till she find it. It is like the owner of cattle, whose oxen have fallen into a pit on a Sabbath day, spending that very rest day in pulling them out. Christianity, cleared of all its incumbrances, is the industry of divine mercy-the seeking in order to save that which is lost. And as the spirit of Christianity is infinite and everlasting love, and as the true Church is the body in which this large heart beats, the pulsations of this heart cause this body to throb with life from head to foot, and from breast to hand. The industry of divine mercy makes an active Church. And an active Church, by giving thoughts to the world, empowers the world to work. "There must be a thought before a thing." Besides this, the intellectual elevation, the moral rectitude, the community of hand and heart which Christianity promotes, has a direct bearing on the useful arts. that those who lead in industry are always Christians, or that they are conscious of a distinct influence from Christianity on their pursuits. It frequently happens that the leaders in the useful arts are not Christians. Yet as the lord of a forest may possess acres of trees, not planted by the hand of man, but raised from the seeds

Not

which birds have dropped in their flight, or from fircones, and acorns which squirrels have planted; and as that lord of the soil may never know or inquire whence his forest treasures sprang, so the inventors of arts useful to man, and those who labor in these arts, from the least to the greatest, may be under immense obligations to Christianity, and may not be aware that by the fruits of the Christian system they are in the useful arts what they are. To me it is a most significant circumstance that the ancients attributed inventions to the gods, or made deities of the inventors. To such an extent was this carried, that among the Greeks even the mixing of water with wine has a divine author. These facts show that religion has by other, and by ancient minds, been supposed to have to do with the arts common to life. Show me a religion without a positive belief-a religion whose doctrines are not above the thoughts of men, and whose paths are not superior to the depraved wishes of men, and then I admit I shall see religion cherishing ennui and sloth, and promoting dwarfishness of character and narrowness of action. But if I can point you to a religion of fixed principles and of infinite ideas-a religion that constrains men to think-that penetrates their nature with principles, and pervades their spirits with life: then I can show you, wherever that religion is adopted, a people-skillful, laborious, enterprising, keen-eyed, strong-handed, clear-headed, and stout-hearted in the spheres of their daily toil. As we have before said, the industry of England, Scotland, and America is largely promoted by the amount of pure Christianity that exists in these lands.

And the reciprocity we have elsewhere noticed is observable here. Industry is favorable to Christianity, and Christianity is promotive of industry.

I do not wonder at the industrious turning away from

unreal religion. I can account for the useful arts not flourishing where corruptions of Christianity are prominent. But I see in the system of Christ much that would in every way foster all the natural tendencies of industry. Could I gain the ear of the men who are offering this country temples instead of truth, altars instead of an atonement, bodily exercise instead of living faith, I should incline to address them in Campbell's words, and say:

"The ticking wood-worm mocks thce, man !
Thy temples-creeds themselves grown wan!
But there's a dome of nobler span,

A temple given

Our faith-that bigots dare not ban—
Its space is heaven."

We have seen that the natural tendencies of industry are to improve the human faculties-to substitute direction for performance-to work by every accessible instrumentality-to exhaust the riches of nature-to adapt itself to circumstances to improve the condition of mankind, and thus to bring all things under our feet. And we have also observed that these tendencies are promoted by inward impulsiveness-by country-by climate-by national condition-by temporary and by local circumstances-by the comprehension of nature, and by science generally, and, above all, by true religion. So that, to the pursuit of the great ends of industry, we have both outward enticement and inward impulse. A strong external allurement is in the riches of the earth, which just show themselves, and, like coy birds, tempt us to pursue them, that we may receive the advantages they are created to afford. All terrestrial things come to man and ask him for employment. The gases touch us and bid us feel after them. The metals lie under our feet in perfect vassalage. The air whispers, "May I serve you?" The lightning

just shows itself and retires, but it leaves on the heavens the inscription, "Electricity was made for man." The sea rolls up to our feet and asks to be our burden-bearer. The river runs up and down like a vehicle, with noiseless and everlasting wheels, plying for hire. The trees of the forest lift up their heads, and flowers wear bright raiment, that they may not be overlooked, but that we may be ministered unto by them in the order of their course. Birds and beasts, fish and reptiles, come to us that we may name some service within their sphere. The many-voiced earth utters this one cry in the ear of man, "Let me be your servant." And there is that within man that responds to this request, and that says, "Be served by the objects around you." Desire for action and for power, desire for knowledge and for happiness, the necessitous state in which man commences life, combine to urge that the earth be used as our servant. And when men catch, and imprison, and employ the vagrant and subtile gas-when men mold the massive metals—when they move among the animal and vegetable creation as lords, then do they fulfill one part of their mission.

What a multitude of subjects belong to the empire which industry is commissioned to subdue! Here are oxygen and hydrogen, nitrogen and chlorine, bromine and fluorine, gold and silver, iron and copper, mercury and lead, tin and antimony, bismuth and zinc, arsenic and cobalt, platinum and nickel, manganese and tungsten, tellurium and molybdenum, uranium, titanium, and chromium, and twenty-nine metals besides these, the discovery of the present century. Here are bodies which can not be classified-carbon, phosphorus, sulphur, and iodine, besides earths and alkalies, acids and salts. Here are eighty thousand plants-mosses and heaths, grass and flowers, shrubs and trees, with their seeds and blooms, fruits and woods, barks, gums, oils, gelatines, straws, saps,

and leaves. Here are backboned animals and pulpy animals, jointed animals and branched animals, so numerous and so varied, that we can not now mention even their classes and orders; yet these living creatures, their flesh and bones, their fat and hides, their sinews and entrails, their tusks and teeth, their hair, and horns, and hoofs, are all within the empire of industry.

So that, when we speak by electricity, and paint by light; when we compress and combine by the weight of the atmosphere; when we move over the waters by wind, and by the action of the same element grind our grain; when we manufacture and travel by steam; when we light our streets and dwellings with gas; when we make the waters a pathway and a power; when we span the river and tunnel the rock; when we get heat from coal; when we make clay into brick; when we build houses of baked earth, of stone, or of marble; when we get implements and ornaments from the metals; when we use fire to fuse hard substances and to harden soft substances; when we turn sand into glass; when out of lumps of cotton, balls of flax, and hanks of wool, we get thread, and from these form warp and woof; when worms clothe us with silk; when we color the plain surface, and from shapelessness bring forms of beauty; when from bark and reeds we get fabrics, and from refuse rags materials for writing; when we speak by leaden forms, and by a kindred art bring near things distant; when we tell the paces of the sun, and measure degrees of heat and weight of atmosphere; when by metal, and wood, and steam we supplant the power of the human hand; when we copy the life and beauty of creation; when we imitate the processes of nature; when we bring music from brass and wood; when we create poetry and philosophy and bring up history from its depths; when from God's earth we obtain necessaries, conveniences, and luxuries; when we save human labor,