care. continual and spontaneous activity, asks no incitement from without itself. Such is its visioned glory. Such, I believe, its destined attainment. But far beyond us now. Now, the religious element is but partially awakened, but feebly active. It mounts but through effort. It maintains its rightful influence but through watchfulness and Now, the world spreads its snares not vainly for our virtue, and devotion's flame is quenched by the gusts of passion or the mists of sense, and conscience speaks unheard or unobeyed; unless the soul be weekly, yea daily, fortified and fed; unless, by every means and incitement within its reach, it seek to elevate its virtue, to inflame its devotion, to enlighten and invigorate conscience. Is it not so? The spirituality that can dispense with forms and ordinances, and the common means of religious improvement and stability, if it be to be attained on earth, can only be by the previously faithful use of what it thus comes at length to outgrow the need of. An essential prerequisite to the soul's growth, is thought, consideration, reflection. Its food is truth. But truth must be apprehended by it, and laid hold of, and inwardly received and appropriated, before it can grow thereby. Truth unattended to, though it be the most enkindling and ennobling, though the words that convey it be as familiar as household words, is naught; even as the food adapted to our bodies, however nourishing, however near, is naught, until it be received by them. Thought, consideration, reflection upon the truths revealed in the Holy Word, in Life, in Nature, in the Soul, this, I repeat, is the only condition of spiritual growth; is the only way by which truths can be ap prehended and impressed. And through religious forms and observances is the mind invited and held to this thought and consideration. They turn its attention to religious themes and serve to fix it upon them. This attention there might not be, with the many, for weeks and months, were they left to themselves to create its occasions, were their own sense of need, were the promptings of their own nature, the only call thereto; in other words, were there no stated time and definite mode, at and through which it should be given. These, it may be thought, are considerations adapted to a very low stage of the religious life. It may be so. But are they not adapted to the state of most of us? Is that stage of the religious life which is above the need of the stated means of grace, that which we have reached? Is it not, with most, ideal only; and not the ideal nearest their experience, but that which they must work up to by longcontinued effort? And if there be those - which we would not doubt- who have realized that ideal, let them not scorn, for others' sake, though for themselves they no longer need it, that which has helped them to their envia. ble elevation. We would not embarrass their upward movements by compelling them to bear with them the ladder of their ascent, no longer a help, but an incumbrance; nor would we have them thrust it from them with words of disparagement and disdain. There are those who regard with indifference the common religious forms and observances; not so much by reason of any high attainments, not because they have received from them all they have to impart, but from an idea that it savors of superstition or fanaticism to employ them. They think there is a bondage in it, not consistent with the genius of our religion; that Christianity asks for principles, not professions; a free, and not a constrained, offering; a life of piety, and not its occasional exercise; absolute religion and morality, and not an ob servance of forms and ordinances; that it would have every day, holy; and every deed, religious; and every thought, a prayer; and the heart in perpetual communion with God and Jesus. And so it would. To this beau teous height it calls it leads. But how would it lead? Through the path of stated religious observances by means of forms and ordinances. There is a bondage in these. But it is the bondage of the child that walks in leading strings before it has strength sufficient to its selfsupport. It is the bondage of the artist who compels himself to the study of others' labors before he ventures to rely upon the resources of his own matured and chastened fancy. In each case, it is a bondage preparatory to freedom. The child, indeed, may depend too long upon its proffered aid, and not trust itself when it might to its growing strength. The artist may confine himself too closely to the prescribed walks of the novitiate, and his own native powers be enfeebled for want of a free activity. And the Christian disciple may cling to forms and observances, which are not only not needed by him, but which tend to hinder the unfolding of his true life. It would be folly, however, in either case, to argue from such possible exceptions, to the general inutility of the practices named. Yes, surely, we are to be religious always and every where; our lives a continual worship, by being continually in unison with the will Divine, continually quickened and pervaded by a filial piety. The advocate of special religious observances may feel as strongly as any one the beauty and desirableness of this; feel it as a demand not more of the religion of the Bible, than of nature, and the soul. And for the very reason that he feels it so strongly, may he be earnest in their advocacy. He does not advocate the one in lieu of the other, but in order to it; because he feels that only by such special religious observances can there be a uniform religious life; that would we have an ever-burning flame of devotion, we must feed and fan it in its day of flickering weakness, by frequently recurring seasons of thoughtfulness and prayer; that would we grave so deep upon our souls the impress of heavenly truth, that it shall ever live there, — feelingly and commandingly live there, amid all life's bustling cares, and besetting temptations, and depressing griefs, it must be, it can only be, by the weekly and daily exercises of meditation and worship. And here we may rest the obligation to the employment of religious forms and seasons and observances. What, if we conclude they are not commanded in the New Testament, in so many words? The fact of their necessity in order to religious improvement and stability, constitutes of itself an obligation, than which there can be none more sacred, more binding. The command to their employment is involved in that to a holy and godly life, so far as we have reason to believe that to the attainment of the latter the former are helpful instrumentalities. Who waits for a special command in order that he may feel the obligation of giving attention to those means of promoting his physical health which, in the Providence of God, have been placed within his reach, and been made known to him as such? Who waits for a command in order to be assured that God designs for him that he shall make use of all opportunities afforded him for the culture of his intellectual powers? And is it less a duty and an obligation to take care of, to cherish, to cultivate the religious sentiments and affections of our nature; and, therefore, to make use of every means and opportunity to this end, which our own experience has made us to know, or the testimony of others has lead us to believe, has a tendency to promote it? In thus speaking of religious forms and observances, I have endeavored to give the true and rational view of them, removed at once from a superstitious dependence upon and a rash rejection of them. There is an intelligent use of them which we all need. I am not ashamed to advocate it. I confess my own experience of this needfulness. That it is your experience, also, my friends, I know the human heart too well, and the natural influences upon it of the world too well, to doubt. You are not what you would be in moral and religious character. You fail, daily, to live up to your convictions of duty. The temptations to selfishness, unfairness, unkindness, impatience, uncharitableness, resentment, continually meeting you in life's various intercourse, are often too mighty for you. Your worldly avocations are apt to en. gross your thoughts and attention to the forgetfulness of religion's claims. Other interests, other cares crowd out of mind the one thing needful. You are conscious of spiritual dulness of an absence of feeling on religious subjects, of a want of faith in, and of comfort from them. Religion you do not find the blessed thing it is described to be, that fountain of strength, well-spring of delight, that pillow of repose. -- that God is |