Having, in the foregoing remarks, briefly handled the question of place, we shall, in the sequel, with still greater conciseness, advert to certain other abuses of the religious principle, in matters pertaining to the service of God. And, first, we have to notice a class that place religion in forms, and in these only. By this sort of people, spirit and truth are clean lost sight of, and never missed. Give them but a certain amount of formal acts and observances pertaining to the externals of religion, and they ask nothing more; and it must be confessed, that, as to many of this class, wonderfully little, even of form, contents them; insomuch that to appear twice in church on a Sabbath day would be reckoned the being "righteous over much." A single attendance is as much as some may endure, and that attendance characterized by bodily presence, and bodily exercise merely, without exercise of mind, or spirit of devotion. And were the weekly order of life inquired into, it would be found that, deducting the incident of Sabbath worship, there would appear neither trace nor token of religious engagement in all the six-day scene of customary occupation. How little even of "the form of god

The religion of form, however, assumes a very different aspect where lordly superstition bears sway. For, instead of the few simple forms compatible with our mode of worship, in some religious communities a complex and engrossing rubric is brought in, which exacts a world of time, care, and devotion-devotion, we mean, to its own formalities, and not to God; for, were his majestic and awful Being regarded in the act of worship, the thought of his greatness would so possess the soul, as not to leave space for the exhibition of operose and fantastic ceremonies, which Rome of old invented, and which an ascendant Prelacy now fondly copies, and waxes bold to prescribe to an unprotestant generation.

And for what end bring back the exploded forms of a dark and superstitious age-an age credulous to error, and only hard to be persuaded when spirit and truth are concerned? Is it to act as a barrier against the tide of scepticism now setting in, and threatening to inundate the whole field of revealed truth? But will it be staid by the bulwark they oppose to it, made up as it is of things so superficial and offensive? Surely not. Bent, however, they are upon a religion of attitude and show -a religion that deems itself perfect in proportion to the multitude and exact performance of its ritual prescriptions. But whether the men of form rest in our simpler mode of worship, or addict themselves to the picturesque and imposing observances of Italy or Oxford, it availeth not. They may light their tapers at noon-day, as they do, but it will only serve to display the absence of what our Saviour taught the woman of

Samaria to regard as the distinguishing characteristics of gospel worship, namely-spirit and truth.

Another class comprehends those who place religion, not in forms, but in feelings, with which they are captivated, and in which they are so absorbed, that forms are little regarded, and truth itself not carefully sought. This class is less numerous than the preceding, for the formalist party has always outnumbered the devotees of feeling. Yet as the latter exist as a class, and perhaps a growing one in some quarters, their errors require to be exposed, and so much the more, that they are specious and plausible, not only assuming to be piety, but piety in its most exalted stage of spirituality.

But, on bringing their system to trial, do we find all necessary truth in combination with its transcendental pretensions? No; we even find doctrinal facts of high import and use to sinful man kept out of view, and, where not displaced, greatly overlaid with visionary moods of self-soothing quietism. We find mysticism, doubtless the fairest counterfeit of true piety, and only to be distinguished from it by the application of the strongest scriptural tests—a mysticism which, having attained to a certain class of religion-like sentiments, and in many cases, no doubt, to a certain measure of genuine grace, shuts itself up in passive contemplation of what is within. As if one, having opened a dark chamber, and let in the light of day, should straightway reclose it in the belief that the light within would last without communication with the light of heaven without. By this similitude, may we not inaptly illustrate the mystic's mistake, when he forgets that we live not by sentimental feeling, but by simple faiththat we need perpetual supplies of grace from without, for the obtaining of which we must, with a conscious and a constant reliance, lean on the finished work of Jesus for peace, safety, and acceptance.

No doubt there is in the mystic's system of sanctimonious religion much enjoyment, and much of truth also-truths respecting the necessity of all possible self-annihilation before the everlasting God-the sufficiency and happiness of Divine love, together with the duty and advantage of religious abstraction, and a silent communing with an omnipresent Creator. When these views leave to relative duty, external objects, and instituted forms of worship, their proper estimation, let them receive the respect they are entitled to on the ground of truth. But though some great truths have a place in the system we review, in other points it is grievously deficient; for, conceding, as we do, much truth to it, all essential verities are not there-nay, there is little of Christ in it-little recognition of the necessity of his blood and righteousness, in order to our justification-little celebration of his glorious achievements in the work of redemption-and little direct application, it would seem,

to God our Saviour for the grace of life, and the exercise of his priestly intercession on the sinner's behalf in the presence of the Majesty on high.

The mystic system, at first sight, and to a superficial observer, appears spiritual in the highest degree; and it is only on perceiving how little He who is "the way, the truth, and the life," is regarded in it, that we suspect its spirituality, and begin to ask if that can be sound and acceptable to God which is not in alliance with all revealed truth, and especially with truths that concern the Saviour's kingly offices and work. In the mystic's world of feeling, Christ is not all in all; and what more need we to evince its disagreement with the requisites of true religion shewn us in the text? Were the sun in yonder firmament to be partially eclipsed, and, much more, were the solar orb totally obscured, all nature would be appalled, a chilly horror would spread over the face of things, while every creature would feel a dread uncertainty amid the cold and cheerless gloom. Now, just as Nature mourns the hiding of its enlivening light, so feel we in every system of religion which veils the glory of Immanuel, and teaches men to walk by other light, and live by other life, than that derived by faith from Christ, as all in all.

The religion of feeling is to some minds fascinating and congenial; but if error lurks in it, let us beware. Satan is never more potent to deceive than when he comes as an angel of light; and we believe not a few have been carried away from Christ and salvation by visionary feelings and frames, whom the grosser lusts of the flesh had failed to seduce and undo their delusion being the more pitiable that it is sincere and, in many of its aspects, holy.

Passing, then, from the religion of form and the religion of feeling, as in different respects inadequate and erroneous, we proceed to what we alone deem worthy to be enforced and honoured-and that is, the religion of principle. Attention to form is seemly and necessary, if we would worship God with our bodies at all, as we are enjoined to do; nor is deep emotion foreign from the nature of true piety, for it has in its views of divine and eternal realities, brought to light through the gospel, whatever is fitted to stimulate feeling and raise our better affections to the highest pitch, through the moving power and manifestation of the Holy Ghost. Nevertheless, in the awful concerns of religion, we require something more definite and intelligible than feeling-something in its character fixed and endurable-something, in a word, which, not dependent on bodily sensation, shall remain unaltered and eternal-like a rock in the midst of the sea, which is not moved from its place whether the surging waves around it ebb or flow. Such stability belongs to the power of principle, which, assigning to form and feeling their proper province,

imparts unyielding strength to the whole frame and fabric of an intelligent and truth-built piety.

We know that to worship God in spirit requires a certain degree of religious sensibility, which, whether of a contrite or an exulting kind, will give rise to fervent emotion, which cannot be quenched but by quenching the Holy Spirit, whose influence is in it. He is the Spirit of Truth, however, and therefore spirituality and truth are inseparable-as closely related, we believe, as parent and child; and hence we reckon it but a spurious spirituality which dwells with error, and winks at the loss or absence of truth and principle as not essential to true devotion.

Brethren, it is the religion of principle we this day press upon your notice and adoption. It will be our business to recommend and enforce it every time we appear among you; and, as a preliminary, we bid you this day look at the pulpit, look at the people, look at the place we for the first time assemble in, and see in each of these objects to what extent principle is able to subjugate feeling, trample worldly interests under foot, and subvert time-hallowed customs with a force of decision that sweeps all impediments away. Look, we say, at the pulpit; what led us to occupy the position we this moment hold? What but principle-principle that forbade us to prefer quiet and convenience to truth-forbade us to prove faithless to a Divine Master, and to betray his cause, for fear of giving offence to the timid, or provocation to the proud? Principle bade us not to heed the defamations of calumny, with its hundred heads and hundred tongues, all ready to invent or propagate any form of misrepresentation. In a word, when we heard the unambiguous voice of Truth, saying to us, "Follow me," we arose and left a dwelling we had little thought to quit till exchanged for the house appointed for all living. Nor was it among the lightest of our trials to bid farewell to yonder edifice, which, however, we now regard in the light of a sepulchral monument, sacred to the memory of the past. Urged by principle, we forsook all— but not as one forsaken and alone, as the aspect of this assembly shows; for look, we say, at the people, as well as the pulpit. To them, too, the call of principle came, nor did it find them unwilling to respond. They too have had their sacrifices to make; and to some of you, ye followers of truth, the sacrifice we know was not small-Small shall any dare to call it? No! Yonder church-yard, bedewed with tears of weeping friends, because the graves of departed relatives would no more be their Sabbath resort, can attest the grief ye felt on leaving the wonted place of worship, hallowed to you by many a touching association connected with the living and the dead. Look, then, we repeat, at the people. What will an objector say, are they so numerous that you boast of them? No! we call them not numerous, compared with the general population;

and, taking into account the religious reputation of this parish in former times, we reckon the number small, and disappointing to the expectations of those that know not the prevailing state of religion among us; and had the late memorable event occurred in some former generations, we suppose the people here would have emulated the fine spirit of certain other places, where old and young fled from the contact and oppression of error, as Israel's holy nation did of old flee from Egypt for life and liberty. But though we have nothing to boast of in point of numbers, we have ample cause for thankful recognition of the grace that has been given to so many, in every one of whom a demonstration of the power of principle is held out to the consideration of friends and foes. Brethren, ye did well in following after truth, though it be at the expense of reproach and inconvenience. You have left the mountain where your fathers worshipped. What ye have spent, and what ye shall hereafter expend for Christ's sake, the Lord is able to repay; nor will he suffer himself to be outdone in the way of liberal donation. In the might of principle go forward, and seas of apparent depth and difficulty shall not obstruct your travel heavenward. Have ye been losers hitherto, we

ask, by the part ye took? Have the consolations of Christ been sensibly diminished, or have you reason to say that the duties of religion have become more onerous to you, and less productive of spiritual enjoyment, since the day ye took up the position ye now maintain? Nay, brethren, we are bold to answer for you, as we do for ourselves, that never have we had greater freedom and delight in our public engagements in serving the Lord, than have been experienced by us since that period. We are owned of God in this matter, and need not be careful because of man's obloquy and reproach!

Again, if the pulpit and if the people be looked at as proofs of principle, we bid you next look at the place we this day worship in for the first time for proof of what eternal principle will devise and do for God and his truth. See the proof of it in this goodly structure, so convenient, capacious, and becoming the uses to which we this day devote it. It might have been erected, at less expense, of coarser materials, and in plainer style. But principle did not confer with worldly prudence either in the first design or after execution: it was for God; and who will deal penuriously with him? It was an illustration of principle, and nobly has it achieved its aim. We bless God for it, while in the name of a grateful congregation, and, as we venture to say, in the name of the Great Head of the Church, we acknowledge the good deed done by the two members of the Church who have accomplished so great an object. As long as it stands, it will be said of it-What hath principle done! Alas! that our afflicted congregations should have so few doings of