Wednesday, 10th. A goodly chasm in the epistle! and yet, I assure you, left without any possibility of remedy, by the variety of engagements which pull me hither and thither. Besides the recitations of this week, which force me to read about 600 octavo pages, I have to sit four hours in our Theological Society two nights in the week; and have now on hand, preparation for debating on next Monday night; item, an oration to be transcribed and committed for Tuesday, and one to be composed and committed for Monday. Except as it interferes with pleasant extra duties, I do not complain of this; it is infinitely preferable to an ennuyeuse vacation in which I begin and leave unfinished a thousand different things. Your situation in the city is truly enviable on one account,—the facilities afforded by it for the reasonable and convenient purchase of books. Many valuable works are knocked down at occasional auctions to persons who cannot at all appreciate them, and who get them for almost nothing. Our seminary is very full-our numbers more than 100. College rather thin. I dropped two sermons of Dr. Lindsly's into the office for you.' They would give more pleasure to one who discerned his characteristic manner, as we do, in every paragraph; I think they will please you, however, from the untamed vigour of the style. Our temporary teacher of Chemistry, Mr. Halsey, has come to hand, and is commencing operations." PRINCETON, December 29, 1823. Your full letters are always welcome, and with the general principles of your last I am inclined to coincide. The venom and unhallowed fire which have sometimes characterized the controversies of Christians I can heartily agree with you in deprecating. The wisdom of the serpent is more sought after in this day by many than the mildness of the dove. I can also from the heart subscribe to the doctrine that "secret things belong to God," and that those only are to be set up as necessary tenets which God has revealed to us in his sacred oracles. Polemics, I fear, will not abate in their virulence among the soi-distant lovers of truth, 3 "Improvement of Time. Two Discourses delivered in the chapel of the College of New Jersey, December, 1822." 2 Luther Halsey, D. D., Professor from 1824 to 1829. 3 His correspondent had quoted Bishop Watson's sentence "En co dicem sacrum-here is the fountain of truth. Why do you follow the streams derived from it by the sophistry, or polluted by the error of men ?" "Till warned, or by experience taught they learn Is the prime wisdom; what is more, is fume, While I would adhere to these opinions with all the powers of my soul, I would still desire to maintain a firm and unshaken zeal for the truth of the scriptures. It is not the " It is not the "contending for the faith once delivered to the saints," which is reprehensible, but the manner of contending, so unholy and so repugnant to the spirit of the gospel. God forbid that I should conceive that one truth, even the least, of that system which he has revealed is unimportant, or undeserving of strenuous exertion for its maintenance. To our limited vision many doctrines may appear destitute of any practical bearing, as some parts of the animal fabric seem useless; and yet, so impious would it be to charge God with inculcating doctrines which might or might not be believed with equal security, that as to the symmetry of the Divine plan, I should say "If from the chain a single link you strike, Tenth or ten thousandth breaks the chain alike." The creed of professing Christians was originally brief and simple. All creeds are barriers erected against error, and of course must grow and change with the phases of heresy. The primitive confession of faith was one sentence, (Acts viii. 37.) The symbol called the Apostles' creed grew out of the necessity of the times, and was reared as a defence against those who denied the Godhead or the real passion of Christ. The Athanasian creed as it stands in the English Liturgy is still more complex, and our own formula being directed against a variety of opponents is quite a volume. Many of its clauses ought to be expunged, as referring to Catholic tenets, and peculiar errors, from which we are now sufficiently guarded. "The purest churches under heaven," says our Confession," are subject both to mixture and error," and therefore I should not feel secure in adopting every sentiment of our church, while I consider the system called Calvinistic, as the only system founded on the obvious meaning of the Bible, the only system reconcileable to a sound philosophy, and the most consoling system to one who feels himself a lost sinner. I say this after having once risen against the doctrine of Rom. ix. 15, with all the enmity of a rebellious heart. I trust that God has convinced me that no "foreknowledge of my conduct" was his motive for rescuing me from the slavery of sin; (alas, had this been the case, my conduct would have secured me eternal wrath,) and that "not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace, which was given us in Christ Jesus before the world began." I wish to impose my private sentiments on no man; as I have already said, go to the Bible, and believe not one word which is not there written. But I entreat of you, let not metaphysical speculations, or prepossessions antecedent to inquiry, forestall your judgment. PRINCETON, 26th January, 1824. I know how to sympathize with you in your late disappointment, [a journey.] It is the twin to one which occasioned me some disquietude last autumn, and which I have not yet ceased to regret. Whether from the early associations produced by an ancient collection of travels, over which I used to pore in my first reading days, and which tinges with old remembrances my air-castles and my dreams to this day, or from some causes more latent, I do not profess to know, but there is in my character a restless, burning desire for peregrination, an anxious. expectation of some opportunity to rove beyond seas and mountains. Such feelings, as wild and romantic, I have endeavoured to quell; and yet in all my studies the thought floats up, (and especially when I read or think of foreign countries,) that I am preparing to wander, at some day, far from home. Our wishes are not always proportioned or accommodated to our character and abilities, and perhaps the sooner this whim is crushed, the better. But all transmarine voyages apart, my wish to visit Virginia, the old dominion, the land of my fathers, my own natal soil, to see the ruin (now a barn) in which my grandfather preached, the valley where I first saw the sun, the mountains where my father spent his boyhood, and where the Alexanders are "rife even now; this wish I would not, and cannot repress. As to Greece, your second topic, it has all my heart. I have just been reading the report of Webster's noble speech, [on the Greek revolution.] It is apparent that he has laboured to keep under all undue enthusiasm, and that his sentiments instead of outrunning the popular feeling, have, as expressed, fallen far short of it. This man has commanded my highest admiration by what he has at times exhibited to the public. The language of modern Greece, from what I can learn, has changed more as it regards idiom and construction, than in single words. The Romaic is modernized by the peculiar use of VOL. I.—2* the auxiliaries and prepositions, and has lost that force which declension strictly so called, conferred on the old Greek. The most satisfactory piece I recollect on the subject, is in a No. of the Quarterly, some years back. The Pilot they are reading this moment down stairs. I have been in old times so whirled and crazed by novels, that I try to keep clear of the vortex, though I generally skim this class of books. The North American Review is likely to keep up its reputation and merit. Mr. E., it is hinted, finds the sphere of clerical and even literary influence too small for his ambition. He is young, handsome, and fascinating, conscious of mental force, and well-informed as to his high character, and he intends, as is said, to make a launch into the political world. His studies for some years have had a leaning this way, and general policy has engrossed his pen, with a few exceptions. Boston and Cambridge, which may be considered as, in an eminent degree, the seats of literature in America, are daily increasing their claim to this character. The men who enjoy the rich and sinecure professorships in the university find time and means abundant to woo the muses. Rational religion, in this sense of the term, lays too slight a hold upon the heart to excite great zeal for their tenets, and they appear before the world as literati, rather than as Christian ministers. I do desire to see learning prosper, to be learned myself; I desire to be happy in the good things of this world, so far as consistent with virtue; I desire to commend Christianity to the world by all that charm which courtesy and cheerfulness can give to as rude a piece as I,—yet I could curse myself, (however unfaithful I may be now, or alas may be hereafter,) if I thought that I could ever consent to make merchandise of the cross, by bartering it for aught of earth. My wish is, in my humble measure, to make every effort tend to one point, the establishment of Christ's kingdom on earth, and in the hearts of men. And O that future devotedness might take the place of the worldly spirit that has, and does prey upon my peace. It would give me unfeigned joy, my dear friend, to see you brought to this noble stand which I wish we may both reach,-to renounce the joys, honours, cares of the present life, for the sake of living for God. Our only excuse, our only inability is our guilty, low, irrational love of the world and of self. God demands our hearts this moment. As a sovereign he thunders his requisition, as a father he whispers pardon, reconciliation, assistance. And what shall we mention to Him as the object of our preference to his service? Pleasure? gain? ease? glory? Life is a vapour, and we know it. Joy is fleeting. Let us determine, at least, to per ish in search of God. I trust you suspect me of no wish to lead you to any system. Read God's word, without comment, without prepossession, without cavil. PRINCETON, February 24, 1824. Instead of being in the lecture room, my proper place at this hour, I am squandering away the time at home, and among other matters commencing to spin out something which may pass for a letter. I thank you for your last; for the length of it, and the information which you were so kind as to communicate. In addition to what I have already learnt from you, I should like to have this problem resolved, viz.: How could the "Allgemeine Litteratur Zeitung von Leipzig" be got at,-on what terms,and with what hopes of regular transmission? You speak of having the small-pox near you, and among you;—we have had two cases in Princeton but its progress has, I think, been effectually stopped. One of our students has been very near death with the bilious colic, but has recovered. In the near prospect of death, he manifested great joy in the hope of soon meeting face to face the Saviour whom he had taken as his portion. Death, to him, seemed despoiled of all that is terrific. Bucknall, another of our students, is lying extremely ill with what appears a rapid consumption. Little hope is entertained of his recovery. So many friends, companions, and classmates have sunk around me, that I seem most loudly called on to be ready also, as being ignorant of the day or hour when my soul shall be demanded. Would to God that I might be excited to do what is remaining to be done with all my might,-to become more holy, and to strive not to be taken from the earth without having done any thing for the benefit of my fellow-men. My qualifications for the ministry are so slight and defective that I shudder at the thought of being in eighteen months invested with that sacred office. So much ignorance, inexperience, and immaturity, seem ill to befit the character of a teacher and pastor. The truth is, I feel too young; and could I dispose of my time profitably, I should be glad to intermit my regular theological course for a year or two. Dr. [J. P.] Wilson I have a great curiosity to hear, and if I should ever come to Philadelphia shall certainly make it a principal point in my memoranda to go to his church. Philadelphia would certainly lose a bright and shining light at his death. Apropos of preaching, have you read [Edward] Irving? He has certainly been shamefully misrepresented by the tribe of angry critics; and yet with all his originality, and all his occasional strength and pathos, he makes me unspeakably splenetic with his nauseous affectation of obsolete words and man |