not yet attain. But let me inquire, my dear friend, whether this increase of doubt, this augmented agitation of mind, does not appear to you to supply a considerable presumption in favour of the doctrine of the atonement. You admit that your enjoyment of secret devotion is considerably diminished; and you appear also to be aware, that your doubts increase as your delight in prayer is lessened. Does it not then appear sufficiently manifest that these doubts are evils? and evils, too, of no ordinary magnitude? Is it to be supposed, that an increasing desire for the truth would render you reluctant to apply to the Fountain of all truth? Can the increasing wish to do the will of God actually unfit you for doing that will? This, you readily admit, is impossible; and it follows, therefore, that your present state of mind is not the result of such desires as these, but of the operation of some principle which is displeasing to God, and pernicious to you.

You will recollect, that, in some of our conversations on infidelity, we have remarked, that the state of a man's belief is, to a considerable degree, dependent upon the condition

of his moral feeling. If you have ever recurred to this sentiment, I do not doubt that you have seen that it accords with facts more fully than, at the first blush, one should be disposed to believe. In your present state of mind, I fear, that my reminding you of it will not be very welcome; and yet it is undoubtedly applicable to you. You feel that you have experienced some deterioration of religious character; and you find that your doubts upon the questions of the divinity and atonement of Christ are proportioned to it. It is possible, therefore, in the regular process of things, that you may arrive at a state of unbelief so confirmed, that were I now to describe it, you would shrink in horror, and exclaim, "Is thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing?" Happy indeed will it be for you, if you pause in your course, to retrace your steps ;happy, if, beholding your danger, you seek refuge under the shadow of the Almighty.

I augur well, indeed, from your inquiry:"In the multitude of conflicting opinions upon the subject of the atonement, how am I to arrive at any thing like certainty upon this momentous question?" This you ask in sin

с

cerity, I know; and as far as I am able I

will answer you.

The doctrine of the atonement, if it be true, is to be found in the Bible, and in the Bible only. If God had not revealed it, we should never have conjectured any thing resembling it. It is quite beyond the scope and range of human reason; and human reason, therefore, has obviously no share in its discovery or elaboration. Reason has its own sphere; and while restrained there, and properly employed, it will exalt and ennoble man; but if allowed to trespass on realms which revelation alone can explore, it will prove a treacherous and destructive guide. We are all fully aware of the respective bounds of several sciences, or systems of truth; and no one is so silly as to suppose, that, because a man is acquainted with one, therefore he is capable of discussing the whole. History we know from testimony; truth of some kinds we ascertain by induction; while a third sort of knowledge is secured by experiment. But what should we think of a man who supposed himself perfectly qualified to decide upon a question in politics, because he understood conic sections?

Still more absurd is it for reason to intrude on the province of revelation; and for us to attempt to determine whether or not any doctrine is probable which is made known in the word of God.

If there be a revelation, it must declare to us truths which, without it, we should not have known. The all-wise God does nothing in vain; and it is certain, that, had we been able to ascertain every thing requisite to salvation by the exercise of unassisted reason, we should have been left to our own discoveries. We have not been so left; and it is therefore obvious, that, in the Bible, we are to expect truths, strange, startling, and mysterious. I say, "mysterious;" for that which reason cannot discover, it is natural to conclude, reason cannot fully comprehend. We are bewildered, indeed, in what we do discover by the exercise of our reason. A blade of grass puzzles us. Of the law of gravitation, which we feel every instant, we understand next to nothing. Not a grain of sand, nor a particle of light, nor a drop of water, are we capable of fully explaining; and every atom of matter possesses properties which the united

philosophy of six thousand years has not yet divested of mystery. The conclusion, therefore, is obvious: if that which is palpable to our senses, and which we have a thousand times most accurately examined, and which has been examined by the most profound science which the world ever supplied, is yet capable of evading our researches, and compelling us to confess our ignorance, how can we, without the grossest folly and arrogance, suppose ourselves able to judge conclusively, and to comprehend fully, what we should never have conjectured, had not God mercifully made it known to us?

Does it not occur to you also, that, independently of the comparative imperfection of our intellectual powers, there is another reason for the mysteriousness of revelation, to be found in the moral condition of man, in the present state? We are now in a condition of probation; we admit the existence of a scheme of probation in matters purely moral; we feel that nothing can be more wise or righteous, nothing more honourable to God, or more illustrative of human dignity, than that the destinies of eternity shall depend upon a pro