that he then has religion, of course.

And thus the business of forming a religious character, is made a less rational, and less reasonable concern, than forming any other kind of character. It is a concern in which the mind and heart act less freely, less simply, less in accordance with the maxims of good sense and sound judgment. Badly as I think the business of education is usually conducted, much as there is, that is technical and scholastic, ill adapted to the mind, and erroneous every way, it is, in my judgment, not half so bad as the commonly prescribed method of obtaining religion.

I say, obtaining religion; and yet I confess, I have objections to the very phrase. We do speak, indeed, with propriety, of obtaining an education, because there are distinct, and to a certain extent, technical acquisitions, implied in an education, because there are parts and particulars, arts and sciences to be gained, and this is a thing that can be done in a certain specified time. Now, when we talk of obtaining religion, we are apt to resolve it into something like an art or a science, into some particular state or posture of the feelings, into some special acquisition, which will last with a man just like the art of reading, or the knowledge of arithmetic. To understand algebra, or to read latin, a peculiarity in a man's acquisitions; and we are apt to make religion a sort of peculiarity, or something technical and mechanical. But what is religion? What, but to be good and upright, humble and devout? What is it but the complexion of the whole character, that which mingles with, and overspreads the whole character? Religion is the mind, the heart, the whole man, the whole character, I say

again. Now, a man would hardly speak of having obtained a character, this week, or this morning, as he does of obtaining religion. It would be safer if he would vary the phrase, and speak of obtaining religious and virtuous sentiments and feelings, at a certain time. But such a phrase he would not use; and this shows that he thinks of religion as some peculiarity, something different from the sentiments and feelings that compose it.

Sentiments and feelings every one knows, are things that cannot be bound up in one distinct and special acquisition. They are things that come and go, that fluctuate, and strengthen, and gradually grow into a fixed and enduring character. And such is the true religion, and such is the manner of its growth.

I am not anxious about a phrase, nor would I be thought fastidious about that on which I have now commented. I have noticed it, for the sake of illustrating, in part, what seems to me objectionable in the prevailing ideas of the method of becoming pious. The phrase, obtaining religion, if there were no other objection to it, implies, I am afraid, too limited an idea of the extensive and varied influences by which religious character is formed. There are diversities of operations.' There are many, it is true, whose religious impressions are sudden and striking. But there are many, too, whose feelings of piety and virtue, no less deep than those of others, come upon them slowly and imperceptibly, and there is never a time in their experience, when it could be said of them, according to the popular use of that phrase, that they had obtained religion.

And I maintain, that this latter course is much more likely to be rational and safe, that it is much more conformable to the natural method by which other parts of the character are formed. Intelligence is not gained in a day, and why any more should religion be? Neither is intelligence gained by any one particular process, neither is religion. Neither does intelligence consist in any one exact frame or posture of the mind; neither does religion.

I repeat it, there are diversities of operations." There are many who become christians by a gradual and almost unperceived progress. They were led to think, to reflect, to pray, to resolve. The example of others, intercourse, conversation, have influenced them. Reading, listening to discourses from the pulpit, joining in public worship, have each one, added a little and a little more to the amount of their impressions. The providence of God has lent to them its teachings. The wants of their own minds, growing experience of life, the fading visions of this world, have touched their hearts, and led them to the refuge and hope of piety. They know not, perhaps when, or precisely how, they have been so affected; but this they know, that whereas they were once blind, now they see. They can scarcely tell when, or how, this blessed light has come to them, but they know that it has

come.

Now, my complaint is, that the common language and the common ideas about getting religion, scarcely recognize this process. It is concern, and conviction, and conversion; it is reading Doddridge's rise and progress of religion in the soul; it is a series of retire

ments, prayers, and attendauce upon meetings; this is the course that is usually pointed out.

I am not objecting to these methods and processes of becoming religious; but I am objecting to them as the grand and only methods. I object to them as I should to sovereign nostrums in medicine, when made the principal reliance; and taking the place of the wise and wholesome adaptation of varied remedies to the human constitution: or as I should object to fixed technicalities in law, when engrossing the regard due to its broad and generous principles. I object that too much stress is laid in religion on means of man's devising, and too little regard is paid to the great and powerful means which God has provided in the human mind, in the teachings of his providence, and the ordinances of his word. Just as men are employed with mechanical processes and powers of their own invention, and forget the mighty laws of the universe, the processes of nature, and the courses of the stars in heaven.

Man is ever weakly fond of what is his own, of his own plans, of his own projects and notions, of his own scheme for reforming society, for instance, or for christianizing the world, or for promoting religion. And just as the inventor of one kind of machinery will discredit all others, and just as the builder of a manufactory will fix all his attention on his own work, and forget the everflowing stream, and the silent powers of nature, so do we often see it in religion, that a man attributes more importance to his own invention and his own work, than to the ordinances of God, and to his silent and all-pervading spirit and power. Full of his

own devices, carefully building up his self-devised system of religious influence, and warily holding the wires and moving the springs of popular excitement, surrounding himself with the machinery of appointments and meetings, and artificially, however honestly, working upon the passions, the fears, and hopes of men, till they are almost driven to phrenzy, and altogether driven to disorder and confusion, yet will such a man, and, to speak honestly, I must add, such a selfdeluded man, take upon himself to say to the more calm and rational christian, Alas! you have none of these things, no frequent meetings, no systematic plans of excitement, no stirring and agitation of the moral elements, no visitation of that cloud which is watering the vineyard of the Lord, and which all God's people are arousing themselves to the building up of Zion; ye are doing nothing;' because, forsooth-for this is the argument-'ye are not doing what we do.' All which is about as wise as if men in a storm should take it upon them to lament over those who are dwelling in the calm sunshine. Or to extend the comparison, it is as if the people of Holland should say to those who dwell in the fair and goodly land of France, 'Alas! ye have no dykes, no artificial mounds about you; ye have no fogs, and ye do not see objects magnified in a mist as we do; ye live in calm regions, and are not troubled with storms, or frightened with the thundergust as we are; ye dwell in a pure atmosphere, and beneath a serene heaven, and ye are all like dead men -ye are doing nothing.'

I deny not, that in these comparisons I have allusion to the differences of religious feeling, and to the differ