would banish this doctrine from the world as dangerous to morals; or, if too honest in understanding the plain words of Scripture to go thus far, would cloak it in glosses and explanations, out of the sight of the multitude; but they do so from mere ignorance of its nature and tendency, and because they shut their eyes to the most glaring facts. They see, that in those countries where this doctrine is without gloss or explanation held by their churches, and fearlessly preached to the people, there are the purest morals, there the greatest value for religious and moral instruction, the most industry, and most of all those domestic virtues and affections which accompany pure morals. They see too, or may see, that, wherever this doctrine is plainly and boldly preached, there a proportionably deep interest is felt on the subject of religion. And what is it, Conway, that always accompanies the accusations against an individual who adopts this doctrine? Is it not, almost in every instance, that he has become absurdly strict and particular in his conduct?

CON. True, my dear Howard, it is so. Yet, does it not seem a contradiction to believe, that what absolves us from the necessity of strict obedience, should in fact make us more strict in obeying? Can we be deserving of blame, for not receiving the evidence even of facts, in proof of so plain a contradiction?

How. Yes, Conway; because it is ignorance of the nature of that faith I have mentioned, which makes us dread its adoption as a foundation on which to build our hopes of heaven; and we ought to search with candour into the real nature of a principle so extraordinary in its effects, before we reject and condemn it. That must itself be a pure principle, which leads to an exactness in morality and devotion, thought unnecessary by those who still rest their hopes of heaven on their obedience; and which, at the same time, regards that strict exactness still so defective as to require continual forgiveness.

CON. Well, Howard, I cannot deny what you say; and I shall listen with real interest to your explanation of the nature of that principle. Whatever secures the purest morality, must be the best religion.

How. The great error we fall into on this subject, my dear Conway, is this, we insist on uniting what shall secure our acquittal at the bar of Christ, with what is to prepare us to live with him for ever; and we make the first depend on the last, while the whole economy of redemption keeps them apart. Christ died as a propitiation for sin, and on his account alone are our sins forgiven, and we acquitted at the great judgment. The Spirit of God sanctifies, or makes holy, our souls, to fit them for the presence of God; but so gradual is his work, and so does the soul, un

der his guidance, perceive the extent and purity of real holiness, that the most strictly pure real Christian would feel that he was lost for ever, were he told that his future acquittal depended on his past obedience. But our hour for evening prayer approaches. I must meet my family in the Library. Will you join us, Conway?

CON. Certainly, if you will admit me.

How. Yes, dear Conway, your presence will animate my prayers; and I am glad to give you an opportunity to judge for yourself, of one of those means to lead a family to serve God, which is considered by the world so condemning a proof that a man is become weak in intellect.

CON. I am glad also, Howard, to have an opportunity of witnessing one of those customs of yours, which are considered so extravagantly particular. I only begin to fear I shall soon deserve to be classed amongst those over whom you still possess so much influence, that, after having been with you, they cannot help even defending your enthusiasm, and being infected with it.

[They leave the room.]

THE LIBRARY.

A Table, on which are placed a large Bible, and other books.

HOWARD and CONWAY.

How. I always come here a short time before my family, that I may study the passage I mean to read.

CON. Do you explain it to them? How. I attempt to do so. Here, however, I feel most painfully the unhappy consequences of my long neglect of this most important of all studies. I fear to trust my own understanding, lest, ignorant as I am on innumerable points, I should lead those into error who trust to me for instruction. My method is this. I first study the passage I mean to read, praying to God for his Spirit to enable me to understand it aright. I then consult some approved commentator; and, if I find that we agree, I proceed with some degree of confidence to give my opinion. If not, I must leave the passage unexplained, at least for a time, till I have discovered its true meaning. Had I, as I ought, been studying the Bible for

the last thirty years, I should now have been capable of obeying God's command to train up my family in his knowledge.

CON. Are you not a little inconsistent, my dear Howard? You say the Bible, and only the Bible, ought to be the guide of every human being in learning the truths of religion, even of the poorest and weakest in intellect; and yet, must it cost you thirty years' labour to understand it?

How. It is not by force of intellect, my dear Conway, that we understand the Bible. There is a way of understanding it, imparted to the poor and uneducated,―to women,—to children,— which the highest intellect cannot obtain in any other way than they obtain it; and that is, by simply asking the power from God. There are, my friend, many ways of reading the Bible. One is, to read it attentively, trusting to your own understanding to comprehend it, as you would in reading another book. No man will continue long to read the Bible in this way; for the 'natural man,' the natural understanding, cannot relish the things of God. They are foolishness to him,' because what is dictated by the Spirit of God, can be loved and understood only by that mind which is under the influence of the Spirit. There is another way of reading the Bible, which is still not the right one, but which is more interesting and effectual than the first; that is,