after he had given utterance to the awful language in which he condemned, with but too merited condemnation, the wickedness in high places by which the ruin of his country had been brought about, that his soul, melting into its customary tenderness, prompted the bitter lamentation of wounded patriotism and afflicted benevolence ;—'O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thee together as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not.

desolate.

Behold, your house is left unto you For I say unto you, ye shall not see me henceforth till ye shall say, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord!' Now one of these sayingsthere are many others—would have preserved in grateful and deathless recollection the memory of any heathen sage; and from the mere man of literature, from the lover of the sublime in thought, the tender and the natural in feeling, the lover of simple, chastened diction, from any one having a head to think and a heart to feel, it could not fail to conciliate respectful and affectionate regard; but to him who follows these outpourings of eloquence to the sentiments whence they sprung, and especially to the Christian, who feels that even they are a manifestation of but a part of the divine emotions of his Saviour, of that love which led him to lay down his life for the world, they prefer a claim which can no more be disowned than the claim of a mother to her infant's love, for some return of gratitude, affection, and reverence.

But instead of following out the more congenial train of remark on which I have now fallen, it may be more serviceable to beg your attention, for a moment, to the patriotic sentiments which Jesus evinced, not only in the last period, but through the whole of his public life. You have a stern dislike of priests, and hence-for one reason-you are led to reject Christianity. Even patrio

tism has appeared before you in so spurious a shape, that you have learned to feel discomplacent at the word. But form to yourself a correct idea of the relation which Jesus bore to his age and nation, and thereby—in no small degree-to the world at large. He was not a priest. His followers were not priests. He presented the rare, the solitary spectacle of a patriot without guile or error. Jesus was not a friend of existing abuses, nor a palliator of existing injustice, nor a panderer to vulgar errors, nor a seeker of his own fortune in the ignorance and vice of others. He was the great moral reformer of his times, the teacher and friend of the people, the enemy of priestcraft, and every form of spiritual and social corruption. And he paid his life a penalty for the faithfulness with which he executed his arduous office. As he came to bear witness to the truth, and as he could not otherwise have finished his work, so he spared no errors, however honored by time, however hedged round by prejudice or shielded by power;-so also he spared no guilt, under whatever venerable forms it hid itself, or by whatever fearful array it rose in opposition against him. You never find him conciliating error in one rank, in order to gain power for attacking error in another rank; and above all, you never find him turning to his own defence, much less to his own aggrandisement, any one of the currents of social influence of the nation. God and humanity, truth and duty, were the ideas which swayed his soul, made him nobly forgetful of himself, and ever intent on the full execution of his most heroic task.

And yet, there is no assailing on his part of existing institutions. He himself frequented the temple, whose overthrow he foresaw and predicted. In fact, his methods of reform were, of all others, most effectual. He poured a stream of new ideas into the mind of the nation; he awakened and braced their love of truth; he promulgated great and

everlasting principles touching man's highest nature and highest interests; he kindled into vivid existence new and most powerful sympathies,-and then dying, left the result to time and Providence, in the assurance that when the leaven had worked its work, the needful changes would ensue, and that though, in their first operation, these influences would bring sorrow on many, yet would they also re-create the moral life of many more, and eventually prove the regeneration of society, and the salvation of the world. I know not how such a course of conduct may strike your minds, but certainly to me it appears the height of wisdom and the height of benevolence; and until I have found another social reformer who, without special aid, has manifested these qualities in an equal degree, I must be allowed to think that in Jesus these are tokens of the finger of God; nor even then, however great and good the instance may be, shall I think that Jesus has a less claim to the love and reverence of humanity.

Could I, however, induce you to lay aside the prejudices by which, as I fear, your understandings are darkened, and the natural workings of your heart diseased ;-would you but welcome and detain the seasons of sober thought, and calm down your breasts from the agitations which existing social evils, and the reveries of system, have aroused and still 'sustain; would you take council of your better nature and follow its impulses, I should not despair of convincing you that Jesus has still higher claims than these to your reverential affection. Have you no wants which Socialism,-which no mere system of philosophy-cannot supply? Is it satisfactory to your heart to believe that the universe is without an intelligent Creator-society without a Providence-evil without any but a mortal remedy-and death without an issue or a meaning? Were such the gloomy ideas which crowded on your mind when life, as opening buds, was

sweet'?-when fond and grateful hopes broke forth from your youthful, and yet untarnished heart? Did you lay your mother or your first-born in the tomb, contented with the idea of their sleeping an eternal sleep? Was there not a period in your wedded love when a sacredness attached to the ideas and anticipations which it kindled in your minds? Can you now calmly look on the eye that beams forth affection on yours, and calmly think of the kind heart that throbs more quickly at your approach, and meanwhile reflect that they are but animated clay, and will soon pass from your hearth and your bosom into dreary and everlasting night? Can you look forward to your own departure out of life, and think of the weeping hearts that will stand around your bed, and of the dark, not to say perilous, venture you are about to make into the mysterious abyss of eternity, and yet feel no shrinking of soul under a system which is without hope and without God;-which, in relation to the wants of our higher nature, is as chilling to the heart, as it is barren to the mind? And has no misgiving ever crossed your bosom of your own self-sufficiency; no sense of need for higher and better guidance, than a mind can give which is often dizzy when it is not dark, and a heart whose infirmities the wise feel and lament every day they live? And then if the cause of the universe is Intelligence, and man, therefore, is held answerable to his Maker, can you reflect on the past without a conviction of sin, or look to the future without desiring a hope of pardon? Think not that these things are the imbecilities of the weak, or the inventions of the fraudulent. highest natures that have adorned humanity, have experienced the feelings and gladly cast themselves on the guidance and refuge offered by Christ. And would you but use the power you undoubtedly possess, whatever your system may assert to the contrary, and leaving on one side all the traditions of men,

The

place yourself without pride of heart, place yourself as a little child at the feet of Jesus, you would ere long experience for yourself somewhat of that high, that priceless good, which makes him the Saviour of all who learn of him and breathe his spirit. The elements of a new life would begin to arise in your bosom. New emotions-emotions, as useful as they are benign and grateful, would be awakened; new principles would come into being and gather strength-thence a new power, new hopes, and a brighter and a happier destiny. The moral world would no longer be without a sun. Eternity would cease to be a blank and a dreary void. The pall which darkens over your domestic affections would pass away. And alike for the friend of your bosom, your departed sires, and your cherished, guileless, and happy children, for yourself and your kind, you would have a prospect fraught with eternal good: you would entertain a hope that, in the darkest passage of their life they were under the eye of omnipotent love, and would be wisely and gently conducted through the transient scenes of this feverish state of trial, into an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away.'

And this hope you may lay hold of without the surrender of one manly feeling,-without bowing the knee to priestcraft, or bending the neck to the yoke of creeds. 'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' You need only to yield your heart to the wisest, the gentlest, the most disinterested of teachers, and you will find your wants satisfied, your mind expanded and invigorated, and your breast filled with the moral harmonies of earth and heaven. To whom, then, will you go but unto Christ, for he hath the words of eternal life?' Can you be content to turn away from him; to a teacher and a system, the very utmost of whose profession is, to make you the chief of animals'?