knowledge of the gospel shall continue with you always, to guide, instruct and comfort you. That Comforter you shall never lose. It shall abide with you in prosperous and in adverse scenes, in life and in death. My body may be disfigured and slain by the hands of men, but no earthly power can mar the features of truth. My enemies will nail this body to the cross, and triumph over a system, which they will imagine irrecoverably lost. But be not ye dismayed by this event, however gloomy and appalling. Truth cannot be destroyed. The prince of this world cannot harm it. It is not body, it is spirit. It inhabits the mind. It dwells in that immortal tabernacle, within which God has prepared for its residence. That spirit of truth will I send to you, and it shall abide with you, and with all my true disciples forever. Mourn not then, because I say I must leave you. Rather rejoice and

be glad.

Such we may suppose to have been the meaning of Christ's declarations to his disciples. His death would remove their prejudices, and would unfold to their minds the true, spiritual character of the gospel. And this was in fact the result. Until their Master was removed, they thought only of a temporal Messiah, and an outward visible kingdom. They disputed together, who of them should be greatest in his kingdom. So possessed were they, with these false ideas and hopes, that when their Lord alluded to his approaching death, they would either not understand him, or if they did, would venture perhaps, like Peter, to rebuke him for suggesting so unworthy a thought: Be it far from thee Lord.' But after the event of Christ's

death, these false hopes vanished, and were succeeded by more enlightened and worthy views. The great truth was then made clear and distinct to them, that Jesus came, not to deliver a nation from bondage, not to establish a new sovereignty, under which they would have a share of emolument, but to reform men's characters, to provide an antidote for sin in the principles and truths of his religion, to reveal the character and will of God the Father, and to bring life and im mortality to light.' They found that even from the despised cross, on which their Saviour was hung, a sublime lesson was derived. Christ crucified; an idea which before had been full of horror to their minds, now appeared to them the power of God, and the wisdom of God. They saw in it God's power, because he who had died upon it, had been raised up again, and presented alive to their astonished vision. They saw it in the wisdom of God, inasmuch as the very event which they had looked upon as foolish and unworthy, had had the effect to teach them those truths and principles which were most essential to their eternal welfare.

It cannot indeed be alleged that the death of Christ was the sole efficient cause of the great change which took place in the views of the disciples. This event, did of itself dispel many of their wrong notions. But they were besides divinely illumined. A miraculous influence was exercised upon them, to bring them out of darkness into light. But even this miraculous communication of knowledge, must naturally have been associated in their minds, with the death of their Master. This event was the first important step, which

led to the effusion of the Holy Spirit; and it was therefore natural (it could not have been otherwise) that they should ever afterwards refer back to that event as emphatically the great epoch of their lives. In proportion, as they had formerly been amazed and shocked at the idea of the Messiah's dying, would they esteem the recollection of the event delightful and sacred, when they found what benefits resulted from it to the cause of Christianity in the world, and to their own individual ininds. To it they would trace back, and from it date their spiritual, their Christian birth.

What wonder, then, that we should find such strong language used concerning Christ's death in the writings of the Apostles? Every conceivable advantage, and much more even than it was possible for them beforehand to conceive, had resulted from this event. The change which had followed this event, was as if the sun had burst forth in all his splendor at midnight. What wonder then that the cross should ever afterwards have been the central image in their minds; that about it all their affections should have clustered; and that when speaking of it, they should have uttered the triumphant language of gratitude and joy.

SOME OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED.

EVERY one knows the worn-out objection to Unitarianism, that it is a religion fit only for the refined and intelligent. It is not a little singular that some profess

ing to be themselves Unitairans should have taken up the same idea, and given the objection some encouragement. It is singular, and yet it is no more than we find in every denomination, in regard to every system and faith. You cannot point to one, among whose believers and professed adherents, there may not be found those who express doubts in regard to its general tendency, or take exceptions to some of its parts.

Of no system do we see more frequent proofs of this, than of Calvinism; that system whose advocates cry out most loudly at every appearance of this kind among us. Whenever it has happened that a deserter from the Unitarian ranks (if we must use this sickening language of the times in order to be understood) has carried to his new friends accounts of our coldness and barrenness, or if one of our number has expressed openly a single doubt as to the good tendency of any part of our faith-how quickly has it been caught and echoed and re-echoed along the whole opposing line, until from being a single doubt expressed by a single individual as to a single feature of the system, it becomes a positive concession of the majority, if not the whole body of Unitarians. Now suppose this mode of petty warfare to become general. Suppose each sect to seize upon every concession made by any member of another-though that concession may prove only a very humble and candid spirit-and blazon it to the world as an admission fatal to the whole doctrine. Suppose, moreover, that every sect should judge of every other from the reports of seceding members. Suppose we, as Unitarians, should form our opinion of Calvinism, for instance, from what those tell us who were

SOME OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED.

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educated as Calvinists and lived long under its influence, but have now renounced it and taken our faith in its stead. We must, and we ought to form some opinion of the system from the accounts brought us in this way, but should we take it as the only rule of judgment, or should we admit it without qualification, I am inclined to think we should not be called very fair reasoners by Calvinists themselves. At any rate, it would be a severe ordeal for this system. For if horrible accounts ever were given of the influence of a system by those who have abandoned it, it is this same system. Many, many who from being sincere and thorough Calvinists became as sincere and thorough Unitarians, have related their own experience of the effect of their former faith, in a way that might well carry shuddering to the stoutest heart. Nothing can well exceed the darkness of the picture drawn by some of these seceders, and drawn from their own actual experience-the picture of their own minds and hearts as formed and affected by genuine Calvinism. Years and years have not entirely rescued them; they tell us, from the wretched thraldom in which they were once held. They have tasted the sweets of liberty, but the strong chains long worn, and entering as iron into their souls, are slow, very slow to relinquish their hold. In some of the brighest hours, the darkness of their early days will send up its cloud to overshadow and chill the heart.

But I am far from my object. I meant to speak, not of other sects, but of our own. I would ask why it is, that any of our own number have been ready to admit, as I have said some of them have, indirectly at least, that there is some reason for this charge against our