have right views of the human mind." While agreeing with this sentiment we would extend it: to become theologians we must study carefully the whole of our intellectual and moral powers.

"The proper study of mankind is man," in all the developments of his spiritual life, and in all the forms and processes of the understanding. The better we are acquainted with the dialogues of Plato, the ethics of Aristotle, the assertions of Leibnitz and Des Cartes; the writings of Butler and Locke, of Stewart, and Reid, and Brown, as well as the metaphysicians of Germany and France, the better prepared shall we be to enter upon the discussion of any interesting subjects which will be submitted to our notice in the discussions which may arise on the Denison judgment and the Atonement controversy. For instance, when perusing the elaborate work on Christian Theism, by Mr. Archer Thompson, we found it pervaded by expressions indicative of a false philosophy. Words representing abstract ideas are used as if they represented real objective agents. Thus, "in discovering to man the existence of the soul, the world, and the Creator, nature has taught him better than he can teach himself." (Book I. vol. ii.) What can be the meaning of the clause, nature teaches a man better than he can teach himself? Again, "the yawning gulf of total scepticism became the grave of idealism." (Book I. chap. ii.) This may be good poetry, but it is bad philosophy. No "ism" of any kind ought to be treated as an active objective agent. On one occasion he wisely guards us" against the danger of smuggling in hypotheses under the form of words." (Book I. chap. iii.) On page 48 he states that "intellectual intuition gauges immediately into the depths of being." Here an abstraction is personified; and there is no harm in this so long as it is understood by both writer and reader as an illustration rather than an argument. "Materialism," he states, "is wont to offer us husks for food, and to deceive the ignorant with words in the deplorable dearth of ideas." Here, again, an “ism" is made active. All such phrases are deceptive, unless we carefully translate their meaning into the language of a sound philosophy. There is a singular confusion of expression in the following sentence. "The atheist," it is said, "must rob the mind of every thing that makes it great, that chance-a word without objective meaning— may create from atoms the mental as well as the physical universe." (Vol. I. p. 381.) The statement respecting chance is strictly correct: chance is not a thing—it has no objective

UNPHILOSOPHICAL SENTENCES.

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reality; hence it can do nothing, much less can it create anything. Again, it is only by a figure of speech that any person can be said to rob the mind. Who rob" his own mind or any one else's? "The mind," too, makes the sense obscure. Does it mean every one's mind? Such intricate sentences are by no means in accordance with any correct philosophical explanation of either mental or moral phenomena. Elsewhere it is said " geology and astronomy discover the extent in time and space of the field to be traversed." (Vol I. p. 270.) And, again, they "have made marvellous revelations respecting the existence of the universe in time and space." (Vol. I. p. 271.) Both these sentences are delusive, as these sciences are not living agents, but abstract words, which have a definite meaning and use different from those here imposed upon them. Sentences of this kind abound in this work, and necessarily vitiate its utility as a philosophical treatise. They may help to add a little popularity to the book, as they are in accordance with those shallow notions which are prevalent among the multitude, but they are decided blemishes which require

excision.

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Another unphilosophical sentence is this, "Sin, which broke the harmony of creation in its commencement, breaks it no less in its continuance." (Vol. ii. p. 416.) This is a poetical and imaginative remark which achieves nothing. Sin" being treated as an outward agent vitiates the whole assertion. The harmony and the breaking are equally ideal. Once more-the soul is said to "feel that there is something in sin which God alone can undo." (Vol. II. p. 314.) The utmost reverence is needed wherever the name of the Almighty is introduced; and it is an established axiom in morals, that an action once done can never be undone. All that can be undone is the "guilt" attaching to the action; and that being ideal "the undoing" is simply a mental conception. To suppose it possible that what has been done morally can be undone really, is to indulge in the obscurity of a contradiction.

We pass on to the word "Conscience," which we maintain as an instance of true internal realism. It is desirable, at once, to express an opinion of the importance of this word, as it is essential to obtain a correct view of the mental conception of which the word is an index. We uphold it as expressing the existence of the moral faculty, by means of which we judge of right and wrong, and on which our notions of justice and holiness are founded. It is that prin

ciple or power within us which makes morality and religion possible for man. Like the intellect, or the reason, it exists prior to any instruction: it is as indestructible as the other faculties of his living soul. Without it we could never be responsible agents; we should be as incapable of discharging our duty to God and our neighbour as the animals around us. It may be looked upon as a sixth sense, and as real as any of the other five. The views of Butler, Whewell, and Sedgwick, are decidedly preferable to those of Locke and Adam Smith, Paley and Macintosh. We are not about to argue in favour of one theory, and against another; it is simply necessary to point out that this use of the word refers it to a something which has a steady independent existence. It is most instructive to mark the contrast between “Science” and "Conscience." The former word has no such real being; conscience, we emphatically assert, is a word for that distinct faculty of the soul which enables us to form moral judgments. Such a faculty renders it possible for us to entertain ideas of holiness and sinfulness, justice and oppression, reward and punishment. Its existence is as necessary to the completion of our being, as the eye, or the hand, to the full possession of our outward senses. Here, then, we may take our stand against the assaults of sceptics and soulless Nominalists. Here we may recur to the old-fashioned assertion, that God made man in his own image. It is only through the exercise of this faculty that we are capable of contemplating the moral attributes of Deity. If the Deity condescend to reveal himself to man at all, he is comprehensible only through our possession of this moral sense. For instance, if I gaze upon the heavens by night, I am indebted to my eye for my perception of the star-bespangled firmament. If, with Newton, I enquire about their movements and their masses, I am indebted to my intellectual faculties for the power of comprehending the laws by which they are regulated. My cultivated powers lead me to conclude that the stars and planets above me are the workmanship of the All-powerful and the All-wise; but the pursuit of physical astronomy, under the guidance of either a Newton or a La Place, does not of itself suggest the thought of a moral Governor of the universe. Neither the exercise of the pure "reason," nor of the most exalted " understanding," could suggest to us the duty of obeying the God who made these actual wonders, nor inspire us with the fear of provoking his anger. Such thoughts would not be possible for man without this sixth sense, which is as fitted for its duties as the eye, or the ear, or the taste.

REVELATION AND CONSCIENCE.

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The relation of a revelation to the conscience may be similar to that between light and the eye. The eye, too, can adapt itself to the amount of light which falls upon it. Other analogies might be pointed out, but at present it is sufficient to remark, that as light would be useless for vision without the eye, so a revelation of the character and attributes of the Almighty would be unavailing, without the possession of this faculty by man.

For the purpose which we have in view, it is not necessary that our expressions should be philosophically exact, or that they should be in accordance with any particular "school of moral philosophy. It will be already seen that, while all sceptical schools are rejected, and all expediency set aside, the foundation of morals and of religion is laid deeply and firmly in the original constitution of our moral being. We are persuaded that certain moral powers and perceptions are eternal and universal, and their acknowledgement is required as the first step towards our comprehending the existence of a moral and personal Deity. Such a God alone, as the ideal of goodness and of greatness, can we worship as the Author and Sustainer of our spiritual life, and the ultimate Judge of our eternal destiny. Neither is it necessary that we should bind ourselves by any theories of either systematic or unsystematic morality; it is simply desirable to have some words definitely fixed as the signs of those faculties, sentiments, and powers which are indestructible within us. We do not consider the bodily senses of any man complete without he possesses the capability of hearing, seeing, tasting, touching, and smelling. The ideas implied by each of these words are distinct and fundamental: we cannot resolve them or unite any two of them so as to become one. Thus it is with our single moral sense: without it a man may be an idiot, or a maniac, or a monster. We instinctively feel pity for such a being, and naturally take precautions that society shall not suffer by his actions: we decline to punish; we simply demand protection against the uncontrouled outburst of animal propensities.

The scriptural use of the word "Conscience claim our attention.

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We find that, in the New Testament, the epithets "good" and "evil" are applied to this innate faculty. St. Paul even disciplined himself that he might maintain 'απρόσκοπον συνεί dnou before both God and man. He clearly recognises the judicial authority of this internal power according to some objective standard. There is one passage in his epistles

which requires notice as being both metaphorical and elliptical. In Heb. x. it is said, "having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience." The translation is sufficiently literal; we have simply to ask what possible meanings can the phrase bear? Evidently the heart, or its equivalent the affections, cannot be sprinkled with anything, much less can they be sprinkled from anything. The phrase seems equivalent to the affections being purified from the consciousness of evil. It is assumed that evil actions defile the conscience, and that, by analogy, it may be cleansed by sprinkling. This clause, then, requires stripping of its metaphor, and filling up in its expression, otherwise the ideas suggested by it are confused and unprofitable. The first idea is, the commission of some evil, either in thought, word, or deed; the next is the recognition of this evil conduct; the third is that of a stain or defilement produced upon our affections; and the fourth that of removing this stain by sprinkling. Here is a very mixed mode, which requires even another ideathat of blood-before the metaphor is complete, and which must be separated into its constituent parts, and each portion of the formula must be presented distinctly to the mind, otherwise no accurate knowledge is obtained. When the phrase is thus dissected, and afterwards re-combined, the soul profits by the spiritual instruction conveyed.

In connecting our remarks on Conscience with those on the idea of God, we are enabled to perceive what is necessary to the very existence of religion. First of all, there are religious feelings or faculties within us. These form a constituent element of our inner being, and their existence renders it possible for us to contemplate the moral nature of the infinite and invisible Creator of the universe. This conception renders worship possible; and in consequence of this conception being inadequate and imperfect, the spontaneous worship of the untaught becomes either gross idolatry, or a cringing superstition, or a faithless formality. The soul, like the body, grows by what it feeds upon; and when an objective revelation of Deity is presented to our internal vision, our mental and moral faculties find suitable food; and, by the teaching of the Divine Spirit, a process of assimilation is commenced and continued. Hence the phrase, "a religion," becomes a mixed mode, having no independent existence. The real existences are the religious faculties, or sentiments, or emotions within us; and, also, the objective truths submitted to our apprehension. The one reality is nourished as it were by the other; and the combined effect is not the