K.

WE come by-and-by to show, not only that most people believe something bearing upon religion and eternity, but that infidels believe something,-nay, that infidels believe very much, so much, that their faith, so to call it, transcends in its implicitness and daringness the belief of most religious people.

But let us first say a word or two about the importance of what a man believes. Many seem to think it matters little what a man believes. They suppose that he may believe what he likes with impunity, or that it is of no consequence to himself or to others what he believes, if his actions are what they ought to be. What matters it what my convictions and notions may be, provided my works be righteous? We answer by saying, It matters greatly; because-and the reason is obvious and grave-your faith is the foundation of your principles, and the source of your conduct. It matters greatly in a kingdom whether a man admits the right of the king to rule, or the duty of obeying the laws. It is of consequence whether a servant believes that he ought to consult the interest of his employer, or whether a debtor believes that he ought to pay his debts; because the contrary would very likely lead to disobedience and dishonesty. Now take two men-one believing, the other not believing, in the immortality

of the soul: which is more likely to be careful about the soul's interests? One man believes that God will bring every work into judgment; another believes nothing of the sort: which is the more likely to lead a virtuous life? No rational thinker needs being assisted to form an answer. But take another case, altogether apart from Gospel doctrine. One man of lofty sentiments and cultured taste believes in the inherent beauty and inalienable value of virtue, per se; another bases it upon utility: which of these is the more likely to present a bold front to temptation, and to lead a consistent life? Of all the delusions which men have been subject to, and of all the crafty falsehoods which the enemies of religion have laboured to propagate, none is more iniquitous and disastrous than the notion that it signifies nothing what men believe, provided they only do what is right. The supposition is ab

surd, while the form of words is crafty. You might as well say, it signifies nothing what people feed on, or whether they take any food at all, provided they maintain bodily health and strength.

We see, then, for what reason "faith" is made to occupy such a leading position in the scheme of the Gospel. A trimmed morality has no power to purify the inward man-it may coexist with appalling hypocrisy; but

But what of the infidel? Has he faith of any sort? Is not his name "faithless?" His name is faithless; but he is so called because he has not the right kind of faith. Some sort of faith, surely, the very infidels have, and we now proceed to show that their faith is prodigal and extreme. They reject the Bible, perhaps, altogether, for want of evidence to satisfy their inquiring minds. They cannot admit the truth of Christianity, because its momentum of proof is not sufficient. But they are not unbelievers for this; i.e. they are not men who believe or admit nothing as true. On the contrary, they are of all men the most facile and eager believers, and, what is more, they believe most on least evidence!

"Les incredules sont les plus credules." One believes, so he says, that this world was never created, but came into being by chance! Of course he receives this into his creed without evidence. Neither nature without, nor his own consciousness within, supplies any proof, not even a trifling analogy. And yet here is an article of a creed; and what a bold, desperate act of belief! A world of beauty, without a garnisher! -full of marks of contrivance and design, without a designer!-framed on a principle which fits it to produce the highest amount of happiness, but with no benevolent framer !-moving, with out a mover!-supported in being, without a supporter! This last they must hold, surely; for if they try to evade the absurdity by saying that the world supports itself, then they attribute to it what we attribute to God, and so in effect disprove their own

than this extraordinary faith, without evidence? Compared with the improbabilities here winked at, those crossing the path of the Christian believer are mere shadows.

Another will say, that although he admits the world had an author, he believes it has no governor; a power produced it, but made it instinct with self-regulating energies, so that it requires no overlooking. This again is to believe extravagantly. If God made the world, is it reasonable to suppose that he does not now care for it? They say the world has such trifling creatures, and the Infinite cannot be thought to condescend to these. And yet he condescended to make them! Besides, God being wise, must have made the world for a purpose, and he cannot be indifferent as to whether it answers this purpose.

They believe (so some of them say) that the Bible is the work of bad men. Were they told that Newton's "Principia" was written by a simpleton, those of them who know something about the book would shake the head, and reply with an incredulous smile. But they manage to believe, they say, that the Bible was written by dishonest men-by "impostors." A book which condemns all badness, the work of bad men! Impostors forming a league to bring imposture into disgrace! Unholy men urging, with all zeal and ingenuity of eloquence, the beauty and necessity of holiness! Rebels in God's empire preaching loyalty, and beseeching all other rebels to be reconciled to their king! We say that it is far more incredible that the Bible was written by impostors, than that it was written by holy men of God, as they were

than Christianity ever demanded of them. Such is the belief of unbelievers !

CONVERSION OF A JEW.

A RESPECTABLE innkeeper in a village in Germany had a very depraved, ungodly son. One day, an old sickly Jew, Elieser, arrived at the inn, situated at some distance from the village, and feeling himself very ill, immediately ordered a bed to rest upon. While he was fast asleep, the young profligate conceived the diabolical idea to profit from the opportunity-for the innkeeper, his father, with his mother, and all the servants, were gone to a fair in the market town-to murder the old sick Jew, and to rob him of his money. He inflicted upon him several stabs with a knife, whereby he lost his senses. Though he was still breathing, yet the murderer, considering his death as inevitable, took a ring from his finger, and the little money he found in one of his pockets, and threw the body on a dry dunghill behind the house, with the design to cover it as soon as possible. But he had scarcely re-entered the room, when he was seized with the terrors of hell, which disqualified him for every reflection. In a state of distraction he ran out of the house, without minding the body of the murdered Jew, left uncovered, and the deserted house, determined to travel with the utmost speed to the nearest seaport, a day's journey from his village, and there to engage as a sailor. Meanwhile, the stabbed Jew, whose wounds were not mortal, recovered so far as to be able to move with slow steps to the adjacent village. He could not give any satisfactory account of the circumstances under which he met with

his accident. He died on the following day; and the surgeon who had examined the corpse declared, that though his wounds were not in themselves absolutely mortal, yet in the present case, they had been the cause of accelerated death.

The murderer, pushed on by tormenting fears, proceeded on his way. In a wood he found on the edge of the road a young Jew fast asleep. Suddenly another satanical idea suggested itself to his mind. He drew the knife with which he had committed the murder out of his own pocket, put it gently into the pocket of the still sleeping Jew, and rapidly pursued his journey on a bye-path through the wood. He reached the seaport P—.

It so happened that two soldiers were walking in the same road where the murderer had perpetrated his second atrocity. They found there a well looking young man sleeping, whom, from his dress and countenance, they supposed to be a Jew; it was the same who has been mentioned. "Why," said one of the soldiers to his companions, "we are both of us hungry and thirsty, may we not apply to the pocket of the sleeping Jew for a little money? As he is asleep, he will not refuse it." "The hint is good," returned the other, "for I am almost fainting from thirst, and I have not a farthing in my pocket." They now put a hand into the coat-pocket of drowsy Nathan (this was the name of the Jew) for money; but instead of a purse they found and drew forth a large knife, and were terrified when they found it covered with gore; but soon recovering from their terror by the hope of earning the reward to which the law entitles those who have

delivered into the hands of justice a man under suspicion of murder, they awakened the Jew, bound him, and deaf to his questions, entreaties, and protestations, they conducted him into the town, where immediately he was put into prison.

Here he remained in confinement for more than a year. In the first month, already the state of inactivity became to him intolerably tedious. He asked the jailor whether he could not give him books to read? "There is," rephed he, "in the whole house but one book, probably left behind by a former prisoner." "What book?" asked the Jew. "I do not know it," was the answer of the ignorant, rude jailor. "I never have read it; but on looking into it, I have found that it contains some historical accounts, and also several letters." "Oh!" cried the Jew, 'give me that book; every book is preferable to tediousness." He gave it. The Jew was almost struck with horror when he read the title-page of the book, it was, The New Testament of our Lord Jesus Christ. He was about to return it; but-so he said to himself-"What harm can it do me, if for once, with my own eyes, I see what the Christians relate of their deified son of Mirjam? I shall thereby be enabled to argue with Christians" He now actually began reading: he first read with secret reluctance: but the longer he continued reading, the more reluctance changed into tormenting alarm and distress of mind he could not possibly account for.

The sermons of Jesus contained in the Gospels appeared to him so full of wisdom, his actions so supernatural, his views so pure, his sentiments so noble and so holy, that he felt himself struck

with reverence to him, and was convinced that not one of all men that have lived here on earth, not even Moses or Abraham, was comparable to him. From his early infancy he had heard his parents and teachers represent Jesus of Nazareth as a proud, quarrelsome, and to his own people, hostile innovator, mutineer, and impostor. He now was amazed to see before his sight, on every page, the humblest and meekest of all the sons of Abraham, nay of all the children of Adam. He could not be satiated by reading the Sermon on the Mount, distilling the dew of heavenly wisdom, the last prayer of the Divine High-priest, and his last conversation with his disciples, overflowing with the most tender parting love; with silent tears in his eyes he read the history of the passion and death of Jesus; and at his last words upon the cross, especially at that prayer,

Father, forgive them!" he began bitterly to cry. He could scarcely prevail upon himself to proceed, but his desire to know the conduct of the disciples after the death of their Master, induced him to read the Acts of the Apostles also: here the events of the day of Pentecost, and the effects of the sermon of that day, struck him with peculiar power. But the conversion of Saul of Tarsus made the deepest im. pression upon his soul: this marvellous event operated decisively; and immediately he exclaimed with a loud voice, "As truly as the God of Abraham lives in heaven, Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah, the Son of the living God!" And in the same state of ecstacy he lifted up his hands and prayed, "As truly as thou, O Jesus of Nazareth, art the true Prophet and Messiah, I will be thy disciple! Have