presence, and her heart is glad and thankful as she sees them at their play, or watches them grow like flowers in the garden of life by her side. What thinks she of any imminence of eternal danger to them? She sheds no tears, and loses no rest, on any such account. She loves her children, and, in her heart, is sure that God loves them far better than she. And yet, if what she professes, and perhaps with great bigotry defends, be true, these children, every one of them, are each moment standing on the verge of hell, and, dying unconverted, must sink into its depths beyond reach of recovery. Did she believe this, not as a mere intellectual dogma, but actually as she believes in the existence of her children, and did it press, as any real exposure of her children always presses, on her heart, could she smile and be happy as now? The thing is impossible; precisely as it would be impossible for any mother to sit unconcerned if she knew her children were in danger of burning to death, or of being wrecked at sea to be cast among wild beasts or cannibals.

Mr. Martineau has a passage on this subject, in his paper on "the Church of England," which is full of force. "The whole conduct and demeanor of the persons who defend this doctrine," he says, "afford the clearest proof that it is incredible. The late Dr. Hamilton, of Leeds, wrote a book to prove that beyond the little circle of choice believers, the universe is a vast torture chamber; and yet a merrier laugh, a more exuberant wit, a greater geniality, was rarely ever to be found. The professional hours of his life were spent like those of some old painters, in coloring lurid pictures of his neighbors clutched by devils, and the world in general swallowing hot pitch; and for the rest of his time, he was free to dine with the reprobates and crack his jokes with the damned. No one, who seriously considers the intense inconsistencies involved in such a life, can suppose that the theologian really held a faith which the grasp of a friendly hand and the welcome on a famil iar face sufficed to dissipate. It is the same throughout the whole class of the sincerest and most faithful Christians. They delude themselves with the mere fancy and image of a belief. The death of a friend, who departs from life in heresy, affects them precisely in the same way as the loss of another whose creed was unimpeachable;

while the theoretic difference is infinite, the practical is virtually nothing. What room, indeed, could there be for the business, the amusements, the contents of this world, if it reflected from every salient point the red light of so horrible a background? Who could spare any attention for the vicissitudes of cotton and the price of shares, for the merits of the last opera, and the bets upon the next election, if the actors in these things were really swinging in his eye over such a verge as he affects to see? We would ask any clergyman who reads the Athanasian creed, How can you transact your daily affairs with any peace of mind? Your coat was made by a man who doubts the co-eternity; your grocer thinks the Holy Ghost created; you pay your rent to a landlord who confounds the Persons; and your fishmonger divides the Substance. If you found any one of these with his house on fire, you would not think it time for prosecuting your business; you see him in a greater peril, and you coolly inquire about sugars or discuss the choice of salmon! The misfortune in this doctrine is in some degree protected by its own monstrous character, which takes it so sheer out of all nature, that it can scarcely be confronted with reality. If we apply it to such tests of experience as would suffice in other cases, we produce results whose startling look distracts. the attention from their logical consequentiality; and when we demand from men simple accordance with their profession, the thing itself is so impossible that we are apt to seem unreasonable, and become charged with the very extravagance which we impute." 6

No; this doctrine is not believed, however professed, or with whatever pertinacity defended. A few natures, perverted by their selfishness, or hardened by their bigotry, may come near believing it, and, under the crust of their meaner habitudes, feel comparatively little of its pressure. A few, with tender hearts and deep sense of the monstrous thing it affirms, may have their whole life colored by its darkness; but, on some slight ground that seems to save the consistency of their position, though unappreciable to others, they succeed in satisfying themselves of their own safety and of the safety of their immediate friends.

And fewer still, with a yet intenser sense of what the doctrine is, failing to find any such ground of hope, and losing, for the time, the support of the heart's instinctive faith, may be precipitated into despair. But the most do not believe it at all, with any approach to an actual, positive conviction. They may profess, but the thing is only profession, skimming along the surface of the soul, never penetrating through its quick into its vital and palpitating depths. There, unconsciously to them it may be, the sentiment of Universalism abides in an instinctive faith in God, which tells them, whatever creeds may say, that at least they and those dearest to them are safe in His hands. In this faith they repose; and the threats of endless pain, so far as they are thus personally concerned, are no more to them than the idle wind, and their professions of faith in it are meaningless as the babble of a child.

Nor should we fail to observe here, in closing, that not only do we find Universalism, to this extent at least, among the instincts of our nature, but that, unless this sentiment of trust be in some souls a lie, it is God's confirmation of Universalism within us, leading inevitably to the broad conclusion which this doctrine affirms. For if each thus instinctively trusts, and is not deceived, but has a right to trust, then, plainly, all have a right to trust, and will ultimately be included in results which will demonstrate that God was worthy of their trust.

We reiterate, then, the propositions we have labored: that Universalism enters, more or less, into the opinions and experiences of all Christians, usually not even suspected by themselves; that especially, in giving us its peculiar assurances concerning God and the results of his government, it but expresses the instinctive faith of every human heart; and finally, that it is because of the presence of this faith among their deepest convictions, that those who profess a doctrine which, thoroughly believed, would clothe the universe in the sackcloth of despair, are yet able to be as undisturbed and cheerful as they are. Universalism alone is the faith which men can cherish, growing ever stronger and happier as they know it better and believe it more devoutly; the faith in the spirit of which alone can life be pleasant, friendship sweet, or existence really endurable, and whose thoughts and assurances

serve, though it may be unknown, as the elements of beauty and joy in every soul. God be praised that not only does it thus exist in the instinctive faith of souls, but that it is becoming more and more widely incorporated into the professed faith of the church, and that it is destined yet to fill the world with the abundant fruits of its benignant power.

E. G. B.

ART. VIII.

Spiritual Baptism.

THE title we have presented is somewhat ambiguous;

The

we have chosen it however for lack of a better one. subject is indicated by the language of John the Baptist; "I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance; but he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear; he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost, and with fire." To bring our topic immediately before us, we shall raise the three following inquiries: What is meant by the spirit, as this term is employed in the above passage, and kindred ones? What influence has it exerted? What influence does it exert ? These are important questions, and we desire to consider them in the light of Scripture and reason.

A great deal of needless mystery has been thrown around the point which our first question suggests. Is there however any great difficulty in ascertaining what the Scriptures generally mean by the phrase the spirit? To us it seems manifest that they thus describe that mighty moral influence which God exerts upon the soul of man. God is a spirit; his most characteristic influence is therefore spiritual. It is of course somewhat difficult for us at all times either to conceive or speak of the Deity as wholly spiritual. Man is a sensual being, and is always in some degree under the bondage of his senses. His conceptions of the Godhead therefore will be tinged at times with a degree of materialism. It requires more abstrac

tion, more mental watchfulness, than we are able steadily to exercise, to keep us from sometimes thinking of God as though he were a mighty being endowed with physical qualities and a visible, material form; indeed, when we speak of God, we are often obliged to do it after the manner of men. We talk of his eye, his arm, his ear. It should be recollected, however, that all this is but the language of accommodation. Though God sees, hears, understands and knows perfectly, he is yet purely spiritual. The bodily eye cannot behold, nor the hand of flesh touch him. The proofs of his energy are everywhere around us; the heaving ocean, the beetling crag, the hoary mountains, the rushing torrents, are but symbols of a spiritual grandeur and resistless energy which almighty God possesses. As the thunderbolt reveals the existence and might of electricity, these majestic objects shadow forth the wisdom, skill, and power of the Deity. His true nature however, we repeat, his most characteristic energy, is spiritual. And we gain the clearest idea of this, not by gazing abroad, but by looking within man as made in the image and likeness of his God. Averse as multitudes are to considering their own mental and moral characteristics, it is possible, to say the least, for us to gain as profound a knowledge of our spiritual nature, as of our physical powers. True, our mental faculties may not be subjected to the same anatomical examination that our physical members are subjected to, for the latter are palpable and visible. But how much, after all, do we learn of our animal nature by dissection? We find out the number of bones, joints, sinews, arteries, and veins, but can we ascertain any thing about the mysterious principle of life? Can we learn precisely how the various kinds of food are converted into blood, or what that mysterious substratum is which underlies our physical nature? After all we find out, is there not vastly more about which we can learn nothing? Is it not indeed the prerogative of science to tell us how little rather than now much can be known? Now we affirm that quite as much can be known about spirit as about matter. Our consciousness enlightens us about the former. What constitutes man's personality in the highest degree is his mind. By reflection we can know quite as much about the laws and workings of our