idea presented by these natural lights, is much hindered and weakened by the abstractness and vagueness of its form.

When we look into creation or providence, for the indications of God's character, we are struck with the mixture of appearances which present themselves. We see on one side, life, health, happiness; and on the other, death, disease, pain, misery. The first class furnishes us with arguments for the goodness of God; but what are we to make of the opposite facts? The theory on this subject which is attended with fewest difficulties, is founded on two suppositions,-first, That moral good is necessary to permanent happiness; and second, That misery is the result of moral evil, and was appointed by the Author of Nature as its check and punishment. This theory throws some light on the character both of God and of man. It represents God not merely as generally solicitous for the happiness of men, but as solicitous to lead them to happiness through the medium of a certain moral character, which is the object of his exclusive approbation; and it represents man as very sinful, by holding forth the

mass of natural evil in the world as a sort of measure of his moral deficiency; and suggests that the disease must be indeed virulent, when so strong a medicine is necessary. The fact, however, that the greatest natural evil does not always fall where moral evil is most conspicuous, whilst it gives rise to the idea of a future state, does nevertheless obscure, in some degree, our ideas of the Divine character. Our notion of the goodness of God, according to natural religion, does not then arise so much from the knowledge of any one distinct unequivocal manifestation of that quality, as from a general comparison of many facts, which, when combined, lead to this conclusion. This remark applies also to our notion of the Divine holiness, or God's exclusive approbation of one particular character; though not to the same extent,because conscience comes much more directly to the point here than reason does in the other case. The excitements and motives arising out of such a comparison as has been described, cannot be nearly so vivid or influential as those which spring from the belief of a simple and unequivo

cal fact which recurs to us without effort, and unfolds its instruction without obscurity, and which holds out to us an unvarying standard, by which we may at all times judge of the thoughts and intentions of God in his dealings with men. Natural theology, therefore, becomes almost necessarily rather a subject of metaphysical speculation than a system of practical principles. It marks the distinctions of right and wrong; but it does not efficiently attach our love to what is right, nor our abhorrence to what is wrong. We may frequently observe real serious devotedness, even amongst the professors of the most absurd superstitions; but it would be difficult to find a devoted natural religionist. The reason is, that these superstitions, though they have no relation to the true character of God, have yet some applicability to the natural constitution of man. Natural religion possesses the former qualification in much greater perfection than the latter. Under an impression of guilt, a man who has no other religious knowledge than that which unassisted reason affords, must feel much perplexity and em

barrassment. He believes that God is gracious; but the wounds which he feels in his own conscience, and the misery which he sees around him, demonstrate also that God is of a most uncompromising purity. He knows not what to think; and he is tempted either to despair, or to turn his thoughts away entirely from so alarming a subject. All these conditions of mind-despair, thoughtlessness, and perplexity—are equally adverse to the moral health of the soul, and are equally opposed to that zealous and cheerful obedience which springs from gratitude for mercy, and esteem for holy and generous worth. In such circumstances, the mind would naturally, in self-defence, contrive to lower its standard of moral duty down to the level of its own performances; or would settle into a gloomy hostility to a lawgiver who requires more from it than it is disposed to render. It is in this form of weakness and perversion that we generally see natural religion; and we need not wonder at this melancholy phenomenon, when we consider that its principles consist in abstract conclusions of the intellect, which make no powerful appeal to the heart.

A single definite and intelligible action gives a vividness and power to the idea of that moral character which it exhibits, beyond what could be conveyed by a multitude of abstract descriptions. Thus the abstract ideas of patriotism and integrity make but an uninteresting appearance, when contrasted with the high spectacle of heroic worth which was exhibited in the conduct of Regulus, when, in the senate of his country, he raised his solitary voice against those humbling propositions of Carthage, which, if acquiesced in, would have restored him to liberty, and which, for that single reason, had almost gained an acquiescence; and then, unsubdued alike by the frantic entreaties of his family, the weeping solicitations of the admiring citizens, and the appalling terrors of his threatened fate, he returned to Africa, rather than violate his duty to Rome and the sacredness of truth.

In the same way, the abstract views of the Divine character, drawn from the observation of nature, are in general rather visions of the intellect than efficient moral principles in the heart and conduct; and however true they may be, are uninterest