truth to prevail. It is not by convincing men at large that their system is false, and inducing them to cast it away; no; truth can only spread by awakening a spirit of inquiry. If the minds of men can be brought to this; if they can be led to the Scripture, the purpose of truth is answered. Let them read it without partiality and without passion; let them only determine to know what God has taught them; and we do not say that our faith will prevail, but we are sure that the truth will. If our counsel be not of God, it cannot prevail. We do not wish that it should. We are aware that, when we say this, we must not expect to be joined by those who require to be frightened into their opinions; let them go; for we still say, if there is any faith better and purer than ours, any that brings better evidence, any that has a better effect upon human character and feeling, God grant that ours may sink to its foundation, whatever feelings of pride or partiality may be crushed by its fall.

But the advocates of truth wish to see something rapid and striking in its success. True, it is less sublime to see it spreading silently heart by heart, than to see multitudes with folded hands bowing down before it. It is less sublime to see some broad river unchained by the gentle influences of spring, than to see it lift its icy pavement with a thunder-crash and dash its fragments down the stream; but in one case property, life, and happiness are endangered, in the other it floats harmlessly away. To spread itself in the quick and violent way is not the nature of truth; error only is tumultuous and loud. Whenever men act suddenly and strongly, they are more or less governed by passion; and just in proportion as passion rises, principle is in danger of giving way. Every man who knows what truth is, and desires to see it spread surely as well as fast; every man who feels how soon the best excitement dies away; every man who looks on truth as the power of God, desires to see it pass over the world, not like the hurricane that makes whole forests bend, but like the gentle breeze that bears healing in its wings to nature and to man.

We may take courage then, when we see the advocates of various systems begin to prove them, resolving to hold fast what is good. We may take courage now; for if this is the way with truth, it is advancing now in the only manner which can lead to any lasting and happy results. We hear

the friends of different systems softening their language, explaining away their offensive expressions, and showing a consciousness in their whole manner, that a spirit is awakened which can neither be trifled with nor withstood. They who once gave over infants to damnation, now repel the charge as an insult and a slander. They who once preached personal election to eternal life, now begin to talk about works and human liberty. They who once insisted on the total depravity of man, now sink it to what all believe, that man is born with passions which will make him corrupt if not resisted. They who once threw contempt on human reason, now endeavour to gain its verdict in favor of their own opinions. The walls of churches that lately rang with wild and stormy condemnation, now begin faintly to whisper sounds of peace. Every sect is purging its floors and gathering its wheat into the garner. We know not how the prospect before us could be more encouraging than it is. If we wish for a sure rather than a sudden conversion of men to the cause of truth, we shall rejoice at the course which the world has taken; for should the besom of destruction pass over errors all at once, there is great danger that it might not only sweep religious corruptions but religious principle itself away; as too often happens with those who suddenly alter their convictions.

And now we say that no party, not even the party of truth, if such an one there be, must expect that others will come suddenly over to its name or to its numbers. Though they may cast away what is bad from their opinions, they will hold fast what is good. Let them hold it; let them remain in the temples where their fathers worshipped God; let them only open hospitable doors and clear the dust from their windows; if they only acknowledge the substantial truth and agree to let others alone, we deem it of small importance what dialect they speak, by what name they are distinguished, what banner they raise, or what livery they wear; they have done all we can ask of them, if we are pleading the cause of truth,— more than we have any right to ask, if we are pleading the cause of party. This is the way in which Christians will at last come together, by each sect proving its doctrines, and holding fast that which is good. Had we any divining-rod for the purpose, we could see that the living waters of truth are springing under the errors of every

party. By this they will at last flow together, each retaining its names and forms, if it cannot let them go, but all feeling the influence of truth above all other. The unity of the spirit is all that we can hope for; this gained, the difference of forms is not of great importance; and the time will come, when the multitude of believers shall be, not of one sect or party, but of one heart and one soul.

NOTE.

In the notices, taken in this and a preceding number of the character and works of Robert Hall, we supposed we were writing of the living, and not of the dead; and from some accounts of his public services, of no distant date, we hoped, that this gifted and virtuous man was still actively engaged in a ministry, in which, with his whole mind and heart, he has so long and so ably served God and his generation. But from English journals, recently received, and since copied into some of our own, we learn, that he died in February last, after a violent illness of a few days. He was preparing for a public service in his own chapel, when he was seized with the return of a disorder, by which he had been before afflicted, and which so speedily terminated in his death.

The event was followed in Bristol, where he lived, and throughout England, with the grief, which his character might justly call forth. We need not here repeat, even did our limits permit, what has already been said of the extraordinary endowments and virtues of this great man. But there was one excellence in his character, to which we may just advert, and which, amidst the transcendent fame of his genius and eloquence, demands, for the benefit of the example, a peculiar notice. This was the humility, with which it was all united. His humbleness of mind, his simplicity of heart and manners, it is said, were maintained untouched amidst all his reputation. They are commemorated with special honors and with unequivocal marks of truth, by all his eulogists since his death. And when we consider the subduing power of fame; the odious and corrupting influence of the vanity it cherishes; when we see how soon and how fatally applauding crowds and the popular breath will spoil, in some of the noblest and the greatest, the very gifts that make them noble, we cannot but regard this trait in Robert Hall as the brightest jewel in his crown. It is the indication of that rare greatness of soul, that seeks not its glory from men,' in comparison of which even his high intellectual endowments appear with diminished lustre. May the influence of his labors and the example of his virtues be perpetual.

ART. I.

JULY, 1831.

Vues sur le Protestantisme en France. Par J. L. S. VINCENT, l'un des Pasteurs de l'Eglise Réformée de Nismes. 2 vol. Paris. 1829.

It may be deemed ill-timed to enter into any speculations on the state of religion in France in the present excited and uncertain condition of political affairs in that country. When the events of the coming day can scarcely be predicted by the spectator on the spot, it must be presumed that we speak with diffidence on the prospects of religion. We do not possess the gift of looking through the stormy atmosphere into the scenes of the future; and at this distance from the warring elements of society in Europe, we will not venture to waste the time of our readers by the expression of our opinions or conjectures on the probable result of the present struggle. Of one thing, however, we may be certain. A new day has dawned upon Christianity in France. The religious spirit of the present age is far different from that which prevailed at the period of her first revolution. light has arisen upon her, with omens of the happiest promise, but whether it will shine brighter and brighter unto the perfect day, or again be put back by a reign of terror and blood, we must leave to the mysterious Providence, which rules in the kingdoms of men.

The

Forty years,' says Benjamin Constant, in the conclusion of his great work on Religion, 'forty years have passed

VOL. X. -N. S. VOL. V. NO. III.

35

away since the triumph of an infidel philosophy at the epoch of the French Revolution. Where are we now? A mysterious agitation, a desire for religious faith, a longing for religious hope, are every where manifested. In all this, there is certainly some extravagance; but the extravagance is not without a cause. The motion, which succeeds apparent death, proves that the germ is not deprived of life.' The important work, from which we have quoted, written by one of the most able men, in politics and literature, of whom France can boast, is in itself a proof of the revival of religious ideas. That such a work, which is built on the reality of a spiritual religion and disinterested morality, and which assumes the truth of the Christian system as a philosophical fact, should proceed from the pen of a statesman and scholar, whose influence was felt in the cabinets of Europe, would have been pronounced incredible at the close of the last century. We have similar proofs of the progress of religious thought in other departments of French literature. Many of the most popular writings of the day breathe a pure religious spirit. Christian feelings and opinions are no longer deemed incompatible with a liberal mind and enlightened views. The most brilliant talents in society are divorced from their former unnatural union with infidelity and atheism. A scoffing derision of Christianity is not esteemed a necessary passport to good company. The most able periodical works are not infected with the licentious spirit of the last age; and, in many instances, bear frequent testimony to the truth and importance of the Christian religion. A great change has also taken place in the most important courses of public instruction. A spiritual and religious philosophy is now eloquently taught and received with the ardor of deep conviction by multitudes of the literary men of France, especially among the younger portions of the community, whose minds were not preoccupied with the barren systems of materialism, which had prevailed nearly to the entire exclusion of all others. The work which we are about to notice is a beautiful illustration of the new interest, awakened by religion, and, among many other discussions of great value and originality, contains a more perfect account of the present religious condition of France than any other source, which has come to our knowledge.

M. Vincent is a Christian and a Protestant. He views