TO THE EDITOR OF THE CHRISTIAN EXAMINER.

SIR,—In a late number of the Examiner, I offered some remarks on the duty of a regular attendance at church. I wish now to say something of a duty consequent upon this; and that is, the duty of a sincere and earnest devotion when we are assembled in the sanctuary.

On this subject, Sir, I will not conceal my impression that there is a prevailing and great deficiency of just ideas and feelings among us. I say, my impression, but I feel more than this. I feel a deep and painful conviction that it is so. I believe there is remaining among us, much of that old error, old as the world and certain as its history, the error that substitutes the form for the substance, the semblance for the reality, the goodly show of ceremonies for the unfeigned offering of the heart. I have heard powerful preaching, and I have sought for the fruit; I have seen the congregation when it rose at the invitation to prayer, and have looked around me for the marks of true and solemn devotion; I have listened to the songs of Zion, and have asked if there was a consenting and corresponding melody with the heart' in the assembly of worshippers; and every such inquiry has terminated with me in sad misgivings. Assembly of worshippers! I said; public worship, we call it. But can our assemblies, and our service at church be justly so denominated? Is our ser

vice, worship? And is this man, and that man in the congregation; is every man, in very deed, a worshipper? Or is he only a spectator of the solemnities of the house of God? And if he is only a spectator, if most of the attendants at church are of the same description, why is not this conclusion absolutely fearful? Is it that God is invisible, and we cannot meet the eye of his displeasure? Is it that he is invisible, and does not break forth upon us, in manifest abhorrence of these vain oblations? Is it for this reason, that we venture to present in his temple an offering so careless and indifferent, that we should not dare to present it in the court and to the eye of an earthly sovereign? Offer now' such a service unto thy governor; will he be pleased with thee, or accept thy person? saith the Lord of hosts."

If,' says a late writer* on the eloquence of the pulpit,-' if any one were, for the first time, informed what preaching is; if, for example, one of the ancient critics had been told that the time would come when vast multitudes of persons should assemble, regularly, to be addressed in the midst of their devotions, upon the most sacred truths of a religion, sublime beyond all the speculations of philosophers, yet in all its most important points simple and of the easiest apprehension; that with those truths were to be mingled discussions of the whole circle of human duties, according to a system of morality singularly pure and attractive; that the more dignified, and the more interesting parts of national affairs were not to be excluded from the discourse; that, in short, the most elevating, the most touching, and the most interesting of all topics were to be the subject matter of the address, directed to persons sufficiently versed in them, and assembled only from the desire they felt to see them handled; surely, the conclusion would have been drawn, that such occasions would train up a race of the most consummate orators, and that the effusions to which they gave birth, must needs cast all other rhetorical compositions into the shade.'

I am very willing to admit that the claims of the pulpit have been but feebly answered. But let me ask if the claims of such an institution as public worship, have not equally failed of their due impression? If some ancient and solitary philosopher, like Socrates, had, amidst a nation of idolaters, risen to the apprehension of one sole and supreme

Edinburgh Review, No. LXXXIX.

Divinity; if he had been told that the time would come when this sublime truth should be unfolded to the whole body of any people; if he had been told that they should assemble weekly to worship this ineffable and all glorious Being; that they had been taught, what the ancient idolater never knew, to worship him as their Father and Friend, the only living spring of all their blessings, and joys, and hopes; surely he would have said this will be a people devout beyond all former example; surely, they will rejoice in their sublime knowledge and glorious privileges! He might almost have anticipated the fervent exhortation of the psalmist, O come, let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the Lord our maker; for he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand.'

Now, the question is, why is not public worship regarded in this light, and why does it not produce these effects? And I believe the grand error from which the failure and deficiency proceed, so far as they proceed from any mere mistake, is this; we go to church to be passive, rather than to be active; to be acted upon, rather than to act. I do not deny that we are to be acted upon; but it is in order that we may act; that we may act, I mean, at the time; that is to say, that our minds may be active, that our affections may be quickened, and enlisted in the actual exercises of holy meditation and prayer. We should go to church to be impressed and moved indeed, but not to be impressed and moved without our own diligent cooperation; not as if we were stocks and stones; not moved, either, as men are at the theatre, or in hearing an oration about a thing that concerns them not. We should go to think, to meditate, and to resolve as we would where our real interests were involved; as we would at a municipal meeting, or in a legislative assembly. The subjects which engage our attention at church, are just as truly matters of personal concern to us, and far more deeply. They are matters of transcendent, eternal interest.

If I may take the liberty, Sir, to use such an epithet, the great evil in our public religious services, is, that they are too dramatic; too little deliberative; they possess too little of the character of a real and earnest meditation. I am repeating the same thing, I know; but I would draw attention to this as the great point, the point in which our deficiency originates, and from which our amendment must proceed. It is

not enough to tell men that they are not devout, as the reason why they do not take the proper and practical interest in public worship. Rather, it is telling them nothing. That they are not devout, is the very deficiency complained of. To allege that they are not devout, is the same thing as to say that they have not the proper and practical interest. The useful question is, Why are they not devout? Is it because they have not the capacity? or because they do not use the capacity which God has given them? If they have not the capacity, they have no business at church, certainly. If they have it, then their business in the sanctuary, is to use that capacity. To use it, I say. This is the very point, to which I solicit attention. We go to church, we appear there in person; but where are our minds? We see, we hear, we are entertained; but do we act? We feel; but how do we feel? Men feel at the theatre, at the recitations of the orator, at the display of some moving tale. But their feeling, in these cases, is passive feeling. They are wrought upon, but they do not work out any thing within themselves. They do nothing. They feel; but they do not feel, that they have any thing to do about that, or in consequence of that, which they feel. They are like the people of old, described in the divine message to the prophet, who spake one to another, saying, Come, I pray you, and hear what is the word that cometh forth from the Lord;'-or, as it would be in the language of this day, 'Let us go to church.'—' And they come unto thee,' said the word of the Lord to the prophet, as the people cometh, and they sit before thee as my people, and they hear thy words, but they will not do them; for with their mouth they show much love, but their heart goeth after their covetousness. And lo! thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument; for they hear thy words, but they do them not.'

6

And so it is at the present day. The people are ready enough to say, 'Come, let us go up to the house of the Lord.' At least, it must be admitted that the habits of the people of this country, are, in this respect, and thus far, much in their favor; I wish it may be found to be so, in the next generation. There is a readiness, and in many, an eagerness to hear. There is much ado, even, about preaching and preachers; much anxiety about who will preach, and whether the

preacher will be interesting; so much indeed, that some will not attend upon public worship, till they can be satisfied on these points. And when this part of the service is satisfactory, there is enough of admiration; and quite too much, sometimes, for the hearer's profit. Nay, this sentiment is not confined to this part of the service; we hear of admirable prayers,' too. The music, also, comes in for a share of notice and comment. All this has a fair show. But what, in the mean time, becomes of the great and ultimate object for which all this is ordained, and for which, indeed, it ought to be so solicitously cared for? Is there by any means, an equal anxiety in the mass of minds, whether they shall be able, in simplicity and without distraction, to present an humble and fervent offering to their Maker? Are they half as anxious to please God, as they are to be themselves pleased? half as anxious about their devotion, as they are about their entertainment? Are not the minds of multitudes fatally distracted from the true object and end, by the zeal they entertain about the means?

I might easily go on with questions of this sort, but I must proceed with my design in this letter. I have said, the great error is, that we visit the sanctuary to be passive, rather than active; to be the passive recipients of impressions, rather than to do a work in ourselves. This error goes through the whole subject, and I shall keep it in mind, while I pass in brief review the different parts of our church service.

And, to begin with that which is least, I shall first speak of sacred music.

In regard to this part of the service but few words are necessary to point out the error in question. It is that part especially, in which the congregation is most of all passive; in which most persons consider themselves as having nothing to do, but to hear,-and admire or censure. The singing seems to be generally regarded as a kind of interlude between the parts of the service, designed only to relieve the attention. And I do not deny that in this respect it has its use. But surely I need not formally maintain, that it is designed for much more than this. It is well devised as a more easy and impassioned, and a less intense part of devotion and meditation, than prayer or preaching; but still it is a part, and not a mere prelude to such services. It relieves and refreshes, while it quickens and elevates the mind. It pleases the ear,