those who have hitherto been your choicest associates, and you, in effect, declare to the world, that all this peace, virtue, and joy, is mere delusion; that the ground of that hope, which has waxed more vigorous and bright in sorrow and in death, is a mere fable; and that ninety-nine out of a hundred of those called "Christians" are gross idolaters.

I do not wish to appeal to your feelings at the expense of your judgment. No; look fairly at the case, and tell me, is this conclusion likely to be true? Is it at all probable, that all that Christian experience which is founded on the doctrine of the atonement of Christ should be a dream? Is it to be believed, that the lives and deaths of men dishonouring God in the most gross manner, should be thus peaceful, heavenly, triumphant? Can you for an instant suppose, that the great body of the church, so called, is allowed to fall into deadly heresy? and that multitudes, countless multitudes, die not only without repentance, but triumphing above every thing else in their most pestilential error? Are you able to bring yourself to the conclusion, that a good and gracious God would permit a

multitude of sincere men, men remarkable for the humbleness of their minds, to continue to dishonour his government, by giving his glory to another; and to pass into eternity unrepentant and unforgiven? Your heart revolts from such a conclusion; and yet this is the conclusion to which you must come, if you reject the atonement, and, of consequence, the divinity of Christ.

But perhaps you will reply, that the Unitarian does not believe that the worshippers of Jesus will be punished in a future life, for their errors while in this world. Perhaps not, but it must be on the supposition that idolatry is not sin, or, at least, a sin so venial, that God will not take cognizance of it. But you know better than this. You know that all idolaters "have their portion in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone." You have not yet learned the art of explaining away this awful denunciation; and so long as you admit its truth, so long the consequences which I have now stated are unavoidable.

Take another view of the case. Christianity, as we receive it, is, in truth, a system of great benignity; but it is as inflexible as it is kind.

It is full of mercy, but equally full of truth. The conditions upon which it offers salvation to man are as unchangeable as the nature of God; and if it only provides for the deliverance and happiness of those who embrace the atonement of Christ, it leaves those who wilfully reject that atonement, under the curse of God. Nay more, its testimony upon this subject is as clear as light, "He that believeth not on the Son hath not life;" "He that believeth not is condemned already," &c.; "He that believeth not shall be damned." These, and many other passages of a like kind, the Unitarian will attempt to explain so as to evade their force; but this you cannot do. You know well what is meant by believing on the Son. You know that a reliance on his atonement is distinctly included in this phrase; and whether we are right or not, you will perceive, with our views, that it is impossible for one who rejects the atonement to obtain salvation; to such an one, I speak it with deep commiseration, "there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin, but a certain fearful looking for of judgment."

You will not wonder, then, at my regret

that you should be in any doubt upon this momentous doctrine. I am animated by no spirit of proselytism. I hope I am no bigot; but I cannot conceal from myself, and I dare not hide from you, what I believe will be the result of your rejection of the atonement of Christ. Again I repeat it, I have no wish to deter you from the most rigid scrutiny. Why should I, indeed, when your decision on either hand is pregnant with eternal consequences? All that I wish to impress upon you is, that this decision must not be made upon light or trivial grounds. No event of your life was so important as is your conclusion in this instance. May God give you understanding in all things!

LETTER II.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

You complain, that your doubts are rather increased, than lessened, by time. This is naturally to be expected. In the ordinary course of things, every revolution of sentiment

is gradual; but the rapidity with which we proceed towards a conclusion, seems to increase in proportion to our nearness to it. In our doubts upon any of the great doctrines of the word of God, this is easily accounted for. I suggested to you, in my last letter, that the immediate effect of the doubts which at present affect you, was the deadening of your devotional exercises. The result of restraining prayer before God is an increase of the pride and perverseness of the heart, of which, in our best moments, we have too great reason to complain. This, in its turn, goes to augment the power of our doubts; and thus, by mutual action, we are hurried into a rejection of doctrines, upon which, at one time, we believed our eternal interests to depend.

You are startled and shocked by the suggestions of my last letter. This is as it should be. Your great danger is, lest you should be imperceptibly carried away by the influence of your doubts. This, at least, is no longer possible. You see the gulf before you. Your eyes are, in some degree, open to your peril; and it will now require a measure of recklessness to make the plunge, which you can