his course is a different one, and the implication isa wiser one.

Yes, the very wisdom implied in religion is frequently accounted to be wisdom of but a humble order; the wisdom of dulness or of superstitious fancy or fear; or, at most, a very scholastic, abstract, useless wisdom. And the very homage which is usually paid to religion, the hackneyed acknowledgment that it is very well, very proper, a very good thing; or the more solemn, if not more dull confession of "the great importance of religion;” and more especially the demure and mechanical manner in which these things are said, proclaim, as plainly as anything can, that it has not yet become a living interest in the hearts of men. It has never, in fact, taken its proper place among human concerns. I am afraid it must be said that with most men, the epithet most naturally attaching itself to religion, to religious services, to prayers, to books of sermons, is the epithet dull. And it is well known, as a fact very illustrative of this state of mind, that for a long time parents in this country were wont to single out and destine for the ministry of religion the dullest of their sons.

I know of nothing more important, therefore, than to show that religion takes its place among objects that are of actual concern to men and to all men; that its interests are not only of the most momentous, but of the most practical character; that the wisdom that winneth souls, the religion that takes care for them, is the most useful, the most reasonable of all wisdom and discipline. It is of the care of the soul, then, that I would speak; of its wisdom, of its reasonableness, of its actual interest to the common sense and welfare of men.

The ministry of the gospel is often denominated the care of souls; and I consider this language, rightly explained, as conveying a very comprehensive and interesting description of the office. It is the care of souls. This is its whole design, and ought to be its whole direction, impulse, strength, and consolation. And this, too, if it were justly felt, would impart an interest, an expansion, a steady energy, a constant growth, and a final and full enlargement to the mind of the Christian teacher, not surpassed, certainly, in any other profession or pursuit in life. Whether the sacred office has had this effect to as great an extent as other professions, is, to the clergy at least, a very serious question. I am obliged to doubt whether it has. Certainly, to say that its spirit has been characterized by as much natural warmth and hearty earnestness as that of other pursuits; that its eloquence has been as free and powerful as that of the senate and the bar; that its literature has been as rich as that of poetry or even of fiction, this is more than I dare aver.

But not to dwell on this question: it is to my present purpose to observe, that the very point from which this want of a vivid perception of religious objects has arisen, is the very point from which help must come. Men have not perceived the interests of the mind and heart to be the realities that they are. Here is the evil, and here we must find the remedy. Let the moral states, experiences, feelings, of the soul become but as interesting as the issue of a lawsuit, the success of business, or the result of any worldly enterprise, and there would be no difficulty; there would be no complaint of dulness, either from our own bosoms or from the lips of others. Strip off from the inward soul

those many folds and coverings-the forms and fashions of life, the robes of ambition, the silken garments of luxury, the fair array of competence and comfort, and the fair semblances of comfort and happiness-strip the mind naked and bare to the view, and unfold those workings within, where feelings and principles make men happy or miserable; and we should no more have such a thing as religious indifference in the world! Sin there might be-outbreaking passion, outrageous vice; but apathy there could not be. It would not require a sentiment of rectitude even, it would hardly need that a man should have any religion at all, to feel an interest in things so vital to his welfare. Why do men care as they do for worldly things? Is it not because they expect happiness, or think to ward off misery with them? Only let them be convinced, then, that happiness and misery depend much more upon the principles and affections of their own minds, and would they not transfer the greater portion of their interest to those principles and affections? Would it not result from a kind of mental necessity, like that which obliges the artisan to look to the mainspring of his machinery? Add, then, to this distinct perception of the real sources of happiness an ardent benevolence, an earnest desire for men's welfare; and from this union would spring that spiritual zeal, that ardour in the concerns of religion and benevolence, of which so much is said, so little is felt, and of which the deficiency is so much lamented. I am willing to make allowance for constitutional differences of temperament, and indeed for many difficulties; but still I maintain that there is enough in the power of religious truths and affections to overcome all obstacles. I do maintain,

that if the objects of religion were perceived to be what they are, and were felt as they ought to be, and as every man is capable of feeling them, we should no more have such things among us as dull sermons, or dull books of piety, or dull conferences on religion than dull conversations on the exchange, or dull pleadings at the bar, or even than dull communications of slander by the fire-side.

I have thus far been engaged with stating the obvious utility and certain efficacy of the right conviction on this subject. But I have done it as preliminary to a closer argument for the right conviction. Let us, then, enter more fully upon consideration o the great spiritual interest. Let us, my brethren, enter somewhat at large into the consideration o religion as an interest; and of the place which it occupies among human interests. Among the cares of life, let us consider the care of the soul. For it is certain that the interior, the spiritual being, has as yet obtained no just recognition in the maxims of this world.

The mind, indeed-if we would but understand itis the great central power in the movements of this world's affairs. All the scenes of this life, from the busiest to the most quiet, from the gravest to the gayest, are the varied developments of that same mind. The world is spread out as a theatre for one great action the action of the mind; and it is so to be regarded, whether as a sphere of trial or of suffering, of enjoyment or of discipline, of private interests or of public history. Life, with all its cares and pursuits, with all its aspects of the superficial, the frivolous, and the gross, is but the experience of a mind. Life, I

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say, dull, plodding, weary life, as many call it, is, after all, a spiritual scene; and this is the description of it that is of the deepest import to us.

I know and repeat, that the appearances of things, to many at least, are widely different from this representation. I am not ignorant of the prevailing and worldly views of this subject. There are some, I know, who look upon this life as a scene not of spiritual interests, but of worldly pleasures. The gratifications of sense, the opportunities of indulgence, the array in which fashion clothes its votaries, the splendour of entertainments, the fascinations of amuse-, ment, absorb them; or absorb, at least, all the admi-ration they feel for the scene of this life. Upon others, again, I know that the cloud of affliction, de scends; and it seems to them to come down visibly. Evil and trouble are to them, mainly, things of condition and circumstance. They are thinking chiefly of this thing as unfortunate, and of that as sad; and they forget that intrinsic character of the mind which lends the darkest hue, and which might give an aspect of more than earthly brightness, to all their sufferings. And then again, to the eyes of others toil presents itself; with rigid sinews and strong arm, indeed, but weary too-weary, worn down with fatigue, and perhaps disconsolate in spirit. And to its earthly-minded victims for victims they are with that mind-it seems, I know, as if this world were made but to work in; and as if death, instead of being the grand entrance to immortality, were sufficiently commended to them as a rest and a release. And last of all, gain, the master-pursuit of all, since it ministers to all other pursuits, urges its objects upon our attention. There