Puslapio vaizdai

of the wide diffusion of such ideas and usages, was a current religious phraseology respecting human intercourse with the Deity, which was gradually systematised by those who superintended the religion of the people. We have long felt, that much of Paul's language on this subject is imperfectly comprehended by us, in consequence of its manifold but unperceived allusions to a subtle theology that had been developed in the more learned schools of his countrymen. A phraseology so prevalent as this, could not be all at once cast aside-especially as the ideas which it had generated and fostered, had grown into the very substance of the popular creed, and mingled with every new impression it received. This was equally the case with the Heathens and with the Jews. With so obvious an explanation of the origin of these forms of speech, why should we seek for any other? Simply because an application has been made of them to the case of Christ? Yet this could not have been otherwise-considering the new relation in which he was believed to have placed men towards God-considering also the resistless desire of his earliest followers to avert from his ignominious death the repelling influences associated with it, and to invest it with the mystical efficacy which, with the prepossessions of their education, it was impossible for them to detach from it. But though such association was perhaps inevitable-nay, in the first instance might even be necessary as a conduit for truth into the mind-by its artificial preservation and that vast accumulation of theological refinements, of which it has been made the nucleus, it has obscured instead of unfolding, the true value of the death of Christ. The objective, has been set up as an indispensable counterpart to the subjective, view-and a significance distinct from the purely moral and spiritual has been attached to it. And yet if the subjective view, as developed by Mr. Bushnell himself, were to acquire in any mind its utmost spiritual force, the objective elements of the doctrine would hang very loosely on the interior belief, with little more of adhesiveness than a simple figure of rhetoric. All that was primitive and characteristic in those elements, would be felt to require explanation and apology--and whatever influence they might still retain, would not be moral, but due to long-established association, acting on the feelings

and imagination, but with no direct effect on the conscience. The old theory of Atonement, which, in his objective view, Mr. Bushnell substantially receives, though he dresses it up in the newest fashion of philosophical diction -involves a vicious circle of reasoning. The old sacrifices, it is said, show what was meant by the death of Christ; and the death of Christ gives a spiritual meaning to the old sacrifices. But we cannot interchange these terms at will -taking sometimes the one and sometimes the other, as a datum. We must assume one of them as fixed, and abide by it. If we start from the old sacrifices, and limit our views to them, we have not the slightest reason for regarding them in any other light, than an expression of anthropomorphic feeling towards God. If, on the other hand, we begin with Christ's death, and survey it by itself as an historical event-apart from the language which popular conceptions have associated with it-we discern in it nothing mystical, but something far higher-the spirit of noble-minded martyrdom-of self-sacrifice to truth and duty-and of unreserved and confiding devotedness to the Divine Will. But on the ordinary theory, the terms of comparison-type and anti-type-like bankrupt merchants, draw on each other with fictitious bills, for a wealth of significance which is to be found with neither.

To us the most pleasing and satisfactory of all the Discourses is the last. To its general spirit and tendency we give our almost unqualified assent. We should merely embrace within the less favourable designation of Dogma, and exclude from the essentials of Religion-some things which the author would retain under the milder name of Doctrine. The distinction between the religion of the heart and the religion of the head-so often misunderstood-is well put and strikingly illustrated-though with obvious amplification of a familiar line in Pope-in the following passage:

"In this matter of head and heart, you may figure the head or understanding, it seems to me, as being that little plate of wood hung upon the stern of the vessel, that very small helm by which the ship is turned about, whithersoever the governor listeth. But the heart is the full deep body of the ship itself, with its sails lifted to the breath of a divine inspiration, containing in itself the wealth,

the joy, and all the adventuring passions, wants and fears of the soul. In a certain superficial sense, you may say that the helm is everything, because by that, so great a body is so bravely steered and turned about in the sea. And the man at the helm may fancy, too, that he is the moving and directing cause of all. But look again, and you shall see how foolish a thing this little piece of wood may be; for when the wind sleeps, when the great heart of the ship receives no inspiring breath, then how idly does it swing from side to side, as a vain and silly thing! It is by the love of the heart only that we know God. Here is all inspiration, all true motion and power. And when the great heart of faith is not parting the waves of life before it, and rushing on to its haven, the busy understanding is but a vain and idle thing, swinging round and round with an addled motion, whose actions and re-actions are equal, and which, therefore, profit nothing."-P. 302.

This is the tone of Cudworth and the old Latitudinarians.- -In the Spirit which Mr. Bushnell would fain substitute for Dogma-we trace the rising of that finer element of faith and love, in which the now divided Churches of the earth are destined hereafter to unite and co-operate, and in which he will himself-we are sure-have to part with some peculiarities which he still clings to as essentials. It was not their rejection of his own reserved dogmas of the Incarnation and the Atonement, that made the older Unitarians less susceptible to the impulse and breathing of this quickening spirit; nor will their resumption of them bring the Unitarians of the present day more deeply and decidedly under its influence. It was the antagonism of inevitable rationalism against the metaphysics of orthodoxy, that superinduced this cold intervening phasis of the religious life in both parties-the preponderance of logical caution, and a dread of those warm and earnest spiritual feelings towards God and Christ and a Heavenly Life, which they sometimes saw artificially excited in connection with the orthodox dogmas, but which will really become purer and more intense, when disjoined from every dogmatic form. Still, we agree with Mr. Bushnell, that sectarian divisions of opinion may yet have work to accomplish in healthfully developing the true kingdom of God— and that so long as one deep, discriminating or repellent conviction subsists at the heart of any party-every forced amalgamation of disagreeing elements-every com

promise of principles felt to be vital-is to be strongly deprecated. There will be silent, ceaseless, irresistible growth and expansion on all hands, so long as men are honest and fearless, and faithful to themselves. From his own standing-point, each will advance unconsciously towards the common centre of truth and peace. Before they are aware, men from divers quarters will find themselves in proximity, and embrace. Ashamed and grieved that they should have been so long estranged, they will break the fetters that once held them apart, and out of the very links of their former bondage, weave the bright chain of Christian brotherhood around the united family of God.


In Memoriam. London: Moxon. 1850.

SUCH is the mystic title-page of a remarkable volume. No explanatory hint is added with the exception of these few words and letters, which following a prefatory hymn face the collection of elegiac poems of which the book consists: In Memoriam A. H. H. Obiit. MDCCCXXXIII. From internal evidence, and we suppose from direct knowledge, all the literary authorities agree in affirming that the mourner is Alfred Tennyson, and the mourned Arthur Hallam, the son of the Historian.

When grief seeks the expression of poetry, it has ceased to be a cry out of the anguished heart. While the fancy, imagination, and invention are dealing with such themes, and mechanic skill adapting the forms of unpliant words, the diverted affections must have stopped their bleeding. Time at least must have lent its healing, and the Sorrow, no more an agony of bereavement or passion, have passed into the perhaps holier form of a spiritual influence, a sentiment, a worship. Its object is translated, the sense of daily loss has been gradually softened, the memories of earth have become the hopes of heaven, and wear only spiritual looks, and speak only spiritual words. It is the soul that now communes with grief, and no longer the unshielded heart. It is necessary to remember this in our perusal of ' In Memoriam,' else a sensitive mind may be in danger of revolt and disgust at its appearance of fondling and making much of sorrow. The poems seem to have been written at intervals extending over the seventeen years which have elapsed since the death of the poet's friend. In that time grief has ceased to be a pang, and has become an aspiration and a worship: and the friend, not lost but invisible, no more felt as belonging to earth yet with all his personal relations preserved, has become one of the spiritual influences of God. In such a frame the heart, having had time to adapt itself to the altered conditions of place, intercourse, and bodily relation, has risen into a holy contentment with all that is left to it,

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