Without God, my being is a miserable wreck, amidst the wrecks of things around me.

But I maintain, in opposition to this philosophizing, that we cannot help thinking of intelligence and goodness, as attributes of the Supreme Nature. We cannot help thinking of an Infinite Intelligence and Goodness, any more than we can help thinking of an Infinite Cause. The Infinite, as truly as the Finite, lies in the very categories of thought; and, if we do not think of an infinite nothing, we must think of an infinite something. Mr. Herbert Spencer does think of an infinite something, and he calls it Force or Cause; he falls back upon that; he considers that, I suppose, as "thinkable." But an infinite Cause he can no more comprehend, than an infinite Goodness? And if he claims, in strict philosophy, the right to think of an infinite Cause, why should he deny the right to think of an infinite Goodness? In fact, to be all the while writing, thinking of infinitude, and yet to deny that it is thinkable, seems a strange thing. Or, if we contemplate the Supreme Nature under the aspect of a personal Will, is a will any less a will, because it is almighty? It is a completely unauthorized, and in fact an unintelligible, conclusion. As James Martineau aptly says (in a private letter), "It is as conceivable to me that a Will should make a solar system, as that it should make a dew-drop; or a forest, as that it should make a tree."

I feel, brethren, the awfulness of this theme. I think I understand how it is, that the contemplation of such a stupendous Existence, should tend to whelm all distinctions. But I believe it is simply the tendency of our weakness. Still, I believe, after the perpetual formula of all creeds, I believe in God; I believe in a Father in heaven. And I cling to this faith, not alone because of my weakness, but because I find that it is founded in a just philosophy. I do not accept it, as Mr. Spencer does Anthropomorphism, as a simply needful, provisional faith, which is yet to pass away. I believe it is never to pass away.

I have thus spoken of the foundations of religion as laid in certain original ideas of Right, of God, and of Immortality.

But a foundation is of no value, unless something is built upon it. "Thou believest in God: the devils also believe, and tremble." Thou believest in the right, and in the immortality of right; but transient and unsubstantial as dreams or reveries, may be thy virtue. It is but a revery, perhaps : how shall it be formed into a character? It is, possibly, but a professional assumption, or something taken at second-hand: how shall it be thoroughly thought out and felt, rooted in the soul, and so become a deep and all-absorbing reality?

How, this is the question now before us, - by what means, in what way, through what agencies and influences, and, most of all, by what working out of the great problem in ourselves? For it is a personal, and sometimes it appears as if it were a fearful, problem? Why is it so fearful? Why is it so difficult to solve it? Why must we be so anxious and troubled for ourselves, and for all men, upon this one point? It seems so easy in theory, it is so difficult in practice; so easy and beautiful simply to feel the Great Presence all around as the very light; and to breathe all pure and gentle affections as the very atmosphere; and to make the very ground we tread upon, as the measured lists of those who run a race, with progress at every step and certain victory at the goal. Why is it so far otherwise with the common experience of men? Does it not seem, at times, as if there were some obstinate and intractable lump of depravity in our nature, some radical or inherited defect in our humanity, to account for its disheartening failures? Such, I am well assured, is not the true philosophy of our condition. Flesh and sense, with their dangerous tendencies, are appointed as the scaffolding of the building within; interests, our own or others', urging on the work, yet through our blindness, interfere with it; ignorance of what the right is, often perplexes us; and the work is to go on amidst doubt and struggle and difficulty. It is difficulty, and not facility, in all human endeavors, in knowledge as well as in virtue, that produces the noblest results.

But, amidst it all, can we do any thing for ourselves or others? I answer, that we can do every thing, God helping

us, "to will and to do." To will: I place that in the foreground of the whole work. The true Christian is a self-made man. The concentrated will to do right, and to be right, is the first step in conversion; carried out, it is conversion. This every man can put forth, if in no other way, in these three: By abstaining from the wrong actions to which the passions impel him; by turning away the mind's attention from the wrong to the right; and by the diligent use of all proper means. He cannot, perhaps, will virtue, will right affections, into existence. In this sense, I should admit the old doctrine of human inability. God creates those affections, not man. He has created the germs of those affections within us it is ours to cultivate them. Just as, in geometry, we do not create the axioms: they are created within us; but we build upon them.

But this opens to us the broad field of our inquiry, What is to be done to bring men to this will and endeavor? In other words, what are the influences and agencies that are to come into our contemplation, as means of building up religion in the world?

Let us take account, then, first of the breadth of these influences; and next of their place and power in the Christian religion, church, and ministry.

In their breadth, they embrace all that forms the character. Christianity takes a leading part; but there are many things beside, to be considered. External means have their place; but there are far deeper and stronger powers within. Conscience, the sense of right, stands first; that which is truly the Spirit of God within us. Fear, doubtless, drives many to religion; a very questionable influence, and producing a very questionable result. Far more profound, is the sense of an infinite need, which nothing but religion can supply. And I believe, if we examine our own minds, we shall find that what has earliest drawn us to the highest things, is the example of excellent persons, of our parents and friends; example, whether in real life or in biography. This opens to us the whole sphere of society, and indeed of good literature (which is the life of souls), as the field of religious growth.

The field is wide, as wide as the world; nay, it is the world. Religion, it has been justly said, is an "earth-made thing;" and that was said by our Orthodox missionary brother, Mr. Nott, of Wareham, in his preface to an excellent little volume of sermons, entitled the "Birds and Lilies." It is an earth-made thing, as truly as it is a heavenly breath. And all things should conspire to its upbuilding. It is not the Bible alone, nor the Church alone, nor preaching alone; but it is Nature, it is life, it is society, it is business, it is daily toil, that should be engaged in this great ministration.

And all this, I conceive, should be shown and taught to the people. In particular, I cannot help thinking, that we should preach more than we do, from the teachings of nature. That was the manner of the Great Teacher. What is the view that most men have of the world they live in,- of the material world? The old desecration of it, is only somewhat modified. It is, indeed, no longer regarded as directly the work of Demi-urge or Devil; but, to men generally, what is the material world? It is a mere clod to work upon, a hard taskmaster, or a place to build cities in, or to open roads and to do business, or to make a prosperous career; and its divine laws and ministrations do not come into their thoughts, once in a hundred times that they think of it. And they never will learn any spiritual lessons from it till they are taught something of what it means; something of the philosophy of their condi tion; something to make them understand that their daily labor is good for them, -is essential, in fact, both to their virtue and happiness. To make this disparaged world, then, a religious sphere; to show how full of wonderful wisdom are its laws and ordinances; to make daily life a scene of honest, faithful, and pious task-work, this is to build up religion: and prayer and preaching are of little avail, if this is not accomplished.

And the social sphere,- that, first, which is technically called society; so dull and vapid often for want of thought and the free play of thought; so chilled and crippled by envy and ambition; so awkward under the bondage of self-consciousness and the miserable fear of one another, what freedom,

what fresh life and joy, would be poured into it by the highest religion, by the sense and love of a heavenly Presence all around, which would make "the whole world kin"! Then next, the social problems, all that concerns men's social rights and duties, freedom, suffrage, obedience to law, all that helps humanity, must come into the large and just view of building up religion. "For if a man love not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?"

The love of God is, doubtless, the highest sentiment: it is the first and great commandment. But I have sometimes thought that there may be a superstitious exaggeration of it, as compared with the love of man; and that not alone with mystics and pietists. "If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother has aught against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift." Wonderful words! and especially for the age in which they were delivered. Not that I would derogate any thing from the supreme claim. No: I join with the mystics and the pietists, with Thomas à Kempis and Tauler, in that. One Power, that binds the universe to perfect order; one Justice, that sustains the right, and will tread down all wrong; one Wisdom, that guides the stars in their courses, and the footsteps of men; one Love, that embraces all creatures, through infinitude and eternity, in its fulness, this is the soul's sufficiency and beatitude and rest. But we may love and venerate in men the same excellence in its nature,

that we love and venerate in God.

Master, after having laid down the

"The second," said the first commandment,

"the second is like unto it: thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."

But it is time that I come to what especially belongs to this second branch of my discourse, to Christianity, to the Church and its ministrations.

The Church has its theology. Of what weight and importance is this, in promoting virtue and piety among the people, or in moulding their character? Something, doubtless, is in this