so insignificant. But admit that natural history is a science— that it is a principle of this science that all the races of animated existences are provided with an ample sphere of activity and enjoyment; and the conclusion is bound to the premises with the very chain of destiny itself. Deny this principle, and you not only invalidate the above deductions from geological phenomena, but you sweep away the foundations of the science of natural history itself. Science is but the expression of the permanent relations and adjustments of nature. But if this principle is not true, there is nothing permanent in the relations of sentient beings. Deny this principle, and the golden chain of being is broken. The boasted harmony and order of nature become wild discord and inextricable confusion. All the generations of past ages, together with existing races, are but the abortions of chance, without meaning in the system of nature, without definite character or fixed relations. Indeed, if this principle be denied, the supposed organic remains found imbedded in the crust of the earth, are no longer any evidence even of the existence of ancient species of animals, now extinct; much less of a former condition of the surface of the earth corresponding to their natures. We might as well adopt the views of some of the earlier opposers of geological speculations, and contend that these supposed bones and shells of animals are only the accidental forms which matter assumed at its original formation; if, indeed, absolute and universal skepticism were not a more rational conclusion from such premises. This principle, then, must stand, or we must cease to talk of the order of nature-the harmonious adjustments and consentient relations of universal being.

We have dwelt with some detail upon the above illustration, because we wish to present clearly to the mind of the reader the principle which it involves, and because we intend, on this principle, to argue from the nature of man to his relations and destiny, from his moral powers and spiritual wants to his spiritual relations. It may, however, seem superfluous to expend so much labor upon this point, inasmuch as the universal application of the principle at which it aims is admitted, even by those who are most skeptical in matters of religion. Nay, the skeptic himself has eagerly appealed to this very principle, when he has imagined that it would arm him with a weapon of attack against the divine authority of the Bible. In this way an attempt has been made to invalidate the Mosaic account of the

creation. From the organic remains imbedded in the crust of the earth, it has been argued, that the history of our globe goes back to an antiquity far more remote, than the period fixed in the book of Genesis. We shall not stop to clear up this difficulty, but will simply remark, that this argument derives its main support from this very principle, for which we are contending; viz. that nature supplies to all the races of animated existences a sphere for the exertion of their powers, and objects to satisfy their wants. The principle is true. We grant to the skeptic its full benefit, and all the conclusions logically deduced from it. We claim the advantage of the same principle in investigating the spiritual relations and destiny of man.

Before entering upon the main subject, it is desirable to remove a prejudice which may exist in the minds of some, against the principle which we have attempted to illustrate, growing out of the scene of disorder presented by the human race. Admit that man is a moral being, and we have a solution of the moral disorder in which the race is involved, without invalidating the principle which runs through all the inferior ranks of sentient existence. That a moral being, like man, should for a long time fail to reap the good, that lies along the path of his existence, is no proof that a satisfying good nowhere exists for him. The possibility of going wrong is a necessary element in the relations of a moral being. The possibility of attaining a satisfying good is not only a necessary element in the relations of a moral being, but a claim of all animated existence upon the bounteous goodness of nature. The lower animals are chained, as it were, to their destiny by the force of impelling and regulating instincts. They have only physical wants to be provided for. Man is gifted with the powers of reason and deliberate choice. He has intellectual and moral, as well as physical wants. Man may fail to attain a satisfying portion by preferring the transient to the permanent, the present to the future, the lower to the higher good. With the brute there is no conflict between the momentary and the enduring, the present and the future. With him there is no lower, no higher good. The present is to him fraught with an overflowing fullness of enjoyment, and the future is secured to him without his care or concern. He has no intellectual and moral cravings no conscience to rebuke his entire abandonment to the allurements of sense and the gratifications of the moment.

If it be admitted, then, that man does sometimes or frequently

fail of a satisfying good, his condition is still reconciled to the harmony of nature; if it is also admitted that a real good exists for him, and is attainable in the struggle of moral probation to which he is called, especially is this true, if we consider that his very feeling of want and desolation is a providential means of detaching him from the pursuit of unsatisfying objects, and of leading him to the fountains of true happiness. There is, therefore, no reason to blame the moral government that is over us, so long as man is conscious of his errors and failures, and a voice within prompts him to aspire towards the true good of his being, and to struggle on to its attainment.

We come, next, to inquire, What are the spontaneous movements and aspirations of the human mind? What are the inherent powers and instinctive wants of human nature? These questions being answered, we are led with unerring certainty to the existence of corresponding exterior relations, an appropriate sphere of action, and satisfying objects. If it be not so, man is an absurdity in the system of nature. The existence of such an absurdity cannot be admitted, unless it be absolutely demonstrated, that the objects which can satisfy the wants of human nature, do not lie within the reach of the human faculties.

As this inquiry is to be conducted purely upon the principles which are admitted in the investigations of Natural History, it might be supposed that the Bible should be excluded from the discussion. But there is one aspect, in which it may be viewed in this inquiry without violating the principles which we have prescribed to ourselves. The Bible, so far as it relates to superior powers and intelligences and man's relations to them, can, as we apprehend, be consistently viewed in only one of two aspects. It must be received as a revelation from heaven to man, or as a record of human thought and feeling-as the expression of the mind of God, or as showing the workings of the human mind with regard to its supposed unseen relations. In this latter aspect, we will consent to view the Bible in this discussion. It is not necessary for the purposes of this argument to claim for it even historical accuracy, much less divine inspiration. We will consent to view it, where the skeptic places it, on the same level with the pagan mythologies. We hope, however, in the course of this discussion, to be able by logical argument, to raise it from that degradation to the high elevation which it occupies in the mind of the true believer.

In investigating the wants and tendencies of human nature, we shall endeavor to penetrate into the secret chambers of consciousness, and elicit her testimony on the subject; not by rack and torture, but by calm questionings and patient and silent waiting for her deliberate answers. As far as the limits which we have prescribed to ourselves will permit, we shall endeavor to trace the windings of human thought and feeling on the page of the historian, in the song of the poet, in the harangue of the orator, in the mazes of mythology, and in the sacred books of the Hebrew and the Christian. We shall endeavor to catch the still small voice of humanity amid the rage and din of fanaticism, and to distinguish the pure gushings of religious emotion amidst the muddy waters of superstition. We shall not be very particular to inquire what have been the musings of theological dreamers, or what the theories of cold speculatists, who would endeavor, by square and rule, to frame a system of the universe suited to the scale of their own narrow views. But the question is, How does the common mind feel amidst the great spectacle of nature? How does the great soul of humanity respond to the impression made upon it by the universe in which it moves?

The Reality of Spiritual Existences.

In attempting to investigate the wants and tendencies of human nature, the mind is at once struck with the uniformity with which man, in all ages, has pushed his hopes and his fears beyond the visible and the finite, and has sought for objects to satisfy the longings of his soul, for a sphere for the exercise of his powers, in the mysterious unseen and future. In other words, man has ever recognized the unsatisfactory nature of a mere world of sense, and has sought relief for the unsatisfied aspirations of his nature, in his belief in an unseen world of spiritual existences. The mind is not satisfied with merely being able to imagine such a world and such beings. It must believe in them, and live in reference to them, in order to feel that it lives worthily. Upon this belief, and acting with reference to it, rest the true happiness, the real dignity of man. This last point might be substantiated by an extensive appeal to facts. But the reader's own observation and experience will bear ample testimony to its truth. Is there, then, no spiritual world? Are there no higher existences than man? Is there no nobler destiny for

him than to pine through life with unsatisfied longings, and then to rot in everlasting forgetfulness? Is the vital food of the soul a lie?—a lie, too, which, if its real nature were discovered, would prove its death poison? Does a tolerably comfortable existence in this life, depend upon the mind's being able to impose upon itself all sorts of mockeries and delusions? Or have we here, in analogy with the whole range of animated existence beside, the instincts of nature aspiring toward their real objects, toward the true destiny of man? This must be admitted, or Natural History is no longer a science.

Thus the existence of the spiritual instincts of human nature, proves the existence of the spiritual objects toward which they move. To determine the direction and scope of these instincts, is to determine the nature of the spiritual world to which man stands related, the character of those spiritual beings to whom he is allied, and his relations to them. This is the task upon which we now enter.

The Being of a God.

Man finds himself in the midst of powers over which he exercises no control. He is borne along by a current, which he can neither curb nor direct. In other words, man is compelled to feel that he is a dependent being ;-the sport of chance,-a prey to malignant powers, or the child of rational, omnipotent Beneficence. The latter conviction is that alone in which the mind can rest and feel satisfied. The existence of an omnipotent, benevolent Deity, is a want of the human soul. Hence, at the first sober glance at this subject, the idea of a God rises in awful sublimity before the mind, as the one thought which has ruled the destinies of mankind from the earliest records of fabulous antiquity down to the present moment. If our design were limited to the demonstration of the existence of a God we might stop here, and rest our argument upon an appeal to the universal conviction and feelings of the human race. We might show, that the only rational account of these convictions is found in the admission of the Divine Existence. But we propose to give the Natural History of the idea and belief of a God; to trace them from their first dawning in the infant mind to their full splendor in the maturity of reason, to show that the mind is so constituted that in the midst of the great spectacle of the universe it necessarily finds a God.