The Philosophy of the Moral Feelings Part 6

The important distinction, therefore, which these observations have been intended to ill.u.s.trate, may be briefly recapitulated in the following manner. Our impression of the aspect of actions, as right or wrong, is conveyed by a principle in the human mind entirely distinct from a simple exercise of reason,--and the standard of moral rect.i.tude derived from this source is, in its own nature, fixed and immutable. But there are many cases in which an exercise of reason may be employed, in referring particular actions to this standard, or trying them, as it were, by means of it. Any such mental process, however, is only to be considered as a kind of test applied to individual instances, and must not be confounded with the standard to which it is the office of this test to refer them. Right or virtuous conduct does, in point of fact, contribute to general utility, as well as to the advantage of the individual, in the true and extended sense of that term, and these tendencies are perceived by Reason. But it is neither of these that const.i.tutes it right. This is founded entirely on a different principle,--the immutable rule of moral rect.i.tude; it is perceived by a different part of our const.i.tution,--the moral principle, or conscience; and, by the operation of this principle, we p.r.o.nounce it right, without any reference to its consequences either to ourselves or others.

The preceding observations, on Conscience, I leave nearly as they stood in the second edition of this volume. Since the publication of that edition, I have seen various discussions of this important question, but have found nothing to alter the opinion I have expressed, respecting the nature and the authority of conscience as an original principle in our moral const.i.tution; and I see no system by which we can escape from the numerous difficulties surrounding every other view of the subject. In particular, I cannot perceive what is gained by those who refer our moral decisions to a process of reason or judgment alone. For by judgment, in the ordinary and recognised acceptation of the term, I can understand nothing more than a power of comparing two or more facts or impressions together, and tracing their relations. When we apply such a mental process to a question of morals, it can amount to nothing more than a comparison of our conduct with some standard. If those who hold the doctrine referred to, mean any thing more than this,--if they allow the mind a power of moral decision independently of any such standard, then this is precisely what we mean by conscience, and the controversy resolves itself, like not a few that have gone before it, into a dispute about a name. If they do not allow the mind such a power, it then becomes them to say, what is the standard by which its moral judgments are to be formed, and whence it is derived. It appears, I think, distinctly, that it can be derived only from one of two sources. It must either be received through divine revelation; or it must be the result of our speculations respecting utility, in one or other of the forms in which that doctrine is presented to us. There does not appear to be any middle course; and accordingly some late writers, who reject the latter system, while they do not admit the authority of conscience, seem to refer our moral impressions entirely to the will of the Deity as made known to us by revelation. I have formerly stated what seem to me to be insuperable objections to this doctrine. It appears, indeed, to be distinctly opposed by the very words of Scripture, which clearly recognise a power, or a process in the mind by which "those who are without law," that is, without a revelation, "are a law unto themselves, their consciences bearing witness, and their thoughts accusing or else excusing one another."

It does, I confess, appear to me, that some late excellent and respectable writers, in their apprehension of not giving sufficient prominence to the doctrine of human depravity, have greatly under-rated the actual power of conscience, and have thus injured in a most essential manner the important argument which is derived from the moral impressions of the mind. True it is, indeed, that the nature of man is degenerate, and that the effect of this appears in his disregarding and disobeying that monitor within. I am not disposed to differ from the writers referred to, respecting the existence and the extent of this degeneracy, but rather as to the manner in which it operates in the actual moral condition of mankind. I do not say that there is in human nature more good than they a.s.sign to it, but that there is more knowledge of what is good; not that men do better than these writers allege, but that they have a greater sense of what they ought to do.

Those who maintain the absolute and unusual corruption of conscience may also be reminded of the remarkable differences which are admitted to exist in different men, and the manner in which moral feeling is gradually obscured or overpowered by a course of personal depravity. The facts are universally admitted respecting the contest with moral principle which attends the first stages of vice, and the remorse which follows. But after each departure from virtue, this opposing influence is progressively weakened, and at length destroyed. In this progress, then, we must admit two distinct conditions of the moral feelings,--one in which conscience distinctly points at what is right, however its warnings may be disregarded,--and another in which its warning influence is weakened or lost. In the former condition, I think we may affirm that it a.s.serts its right and its authority, though its strength and its power are departed; and it does not appear to be saying too much, if we say in the striking language of Butler, "had it strength as it had right,--had it power as it had manifest authority, it would absolutely govern the world."

-- II.--OF THE HARMONY OF THE MORAL FEELINGS.

On whatever system we may consider the moral feelings, we perceive that there are various cla.s.ses of them,--each answering a special purpose in our relations as accountable beings. Some of them, we have seen, refer to objects of desire, the attainment of which appears likely to bring satisfaction. Others lead us to those relations which we bear to our fellow-men. A third cla.s.s, which remains to be considered, calls our attention to the relation in which we stand to the moral Governor of the universe, and to a certain regulation of the moral feelings arising out of this relation. But this is still another inquiry of the deepest interest, connected with this subject, namely, regarding the harmony or principle of arrangement, which these various cla.s.ses of moral emotions ought to bear towards each other. They all form parts of our const.i.tution, and deserve a certain degree of attention, which must be carefully adapted to the relative importance of each; and the correct adjustment of this harmony is one of the objects to be answered by the moral principle, combined with a sound exercise of judgment. The rules which apply to it may be stated in the following manner.

When we consider man as an immortal being, pa.s.sing through a course of discipline to another state of existence, it is obvious that his highest consideration is his own moral condition, and the aspect in which he stands towards the Deity. In immediate connexion with this first of all concerns are the great and general principles of justice and veracity, as referring to our connexion with all mankind, and a cla.s.s of private responsibilities which peculiarly regard each individual in his domestic relations; such as the duties of children to then parents, and parents to their children;--the latter, particularly, presenting a cla.s.s of the most solemn kind, as it embraces the concerns of the present life, and of that which is to come. Then follow the duties of benevolence, friendship, and patriotism; after these, the ordinary avocations of life, as the acquisition of knowledge and the pursuits of business; and finally, those personal recreations and enjoyments, which, when kept in their proper place, are legitimate and necessary to every human being.

These are all proper and laudable, provided they are kept in a proper subserviency to each other. But the important consideration is, that a man maybe acting unworthily of his moral nature, when he devotes himself to any one of them in a manner which encroaches upon the harmony of the whole.

To begin with the lowest of them, it is unnecessary to state how this remark applies to the man whose life is devoted to pursuits which rank no higher than recreation or amus.e.m.e.nt. It must be obvious to every one of the smallest degree of reflection, that such a man is living only for the present life. What cannot be denied of mere amus.e.m.e.nt, must also be admitted respecting a life of business, however important in themselves the concerns may be which engross the mind. They still refer only to present things, and carry not the thoughts beyond the moment which bounds the period of moral discipline. Even the engagements of benevolence and public usefulness, estimable as they are, may be allowed to usurp an improper place; and they do so, if they withdraw the attention from responsibilities and duties which belong more particularly to ourselves as individuals,--such as the duties of parents and of children,--and the other claims which arise out of the relations of domestic life. Finally, it is ever to be kept in mind, that no engagements of any description must be allowed to interfere with obligations, of the highest interest to every man,--those which relate to his own moral condition, in the sight of Him who is now his witness, and will soon be his Judge. From want of due attention to this consideration, year after year glides over us, and life hastens to its close, amid cares and toils and anxieties which relate only to the present world. Thus, fame may be acquired, or wealth acc.u.mulated; or, after a laborious ascent, a man may have gained the height of ambition,--when the truth bursts upon him that life is nearly over, while its great business is yet to begin,--the preparation of the moral being for an eternal existence.

It is scarcely necessary to add, on the other hand, that attention to this first of all concerns must not be allowed to estrange the mind from the various duties and responsibilities of active life. It is only, indeed, when the conduct is regulated by partial and unsound motives, that some of these objects of attention are allowed to usurp the place of others. He who acts, not from the high principles of moral duty, but from a desire of notoriety, or the applause of men, may devote himself to much benevolence and usefulness of a public and ostensible kind; while he neglects duties of a higher, though more private nature,--and overlooks entirely, it may be, his own moral condition. The ascetic, on the contrary, shuts himself up in his cell, and imagines that he pleases G.o.d by meditation and voluntary austerities. But this is not the part of him who truly feels his varied relations, and correctly estimates his true responsibilities.--It is striking, also, to remark, how the highest principles lead to a character of harmony and consistency, which all inferior motives fail entirely in producing. The man, who estimates most deeply and correctly his own moral relations to an ever-present and presiding Deity, will also feel his way through the various duties of life, with a degree of attention adapted to each of them. In the retirements of domestic life, he is found in the anxious discharge of the high responsibilities which arise out of its relations.

He is found in the path of private benevolence and public usefulness, manifesting the kind and brotherly interest of one who acts on the purest of all motives,--the love of G.o.d, and a principle of devotedness to his service. Whether exposed to the view of his fellow-men, or seen only by Him who seeth in secret, his conduct is the same,--for the principles on which he acts have, in both situations, equal influence.

In the ordinary concerns of life, the power of these principles is equally obvious. Whether he engage in its business, or partake of its enjoyments;--whether he encounter its difficulties, or meet its pains, disappointments, and sorrows,--he walks through the whole with the calm dignity of one who views all the events of the present life, in then immediate reference to a life which is to come.

The high consistency of character, which results from this regulated condition of the moral feelings, tends thus to promote a due attention to the various responsibilities connected with the situation in which the individual is placed. It does so, by leading him, with anxious consideration, to feel his way through these requirements, and to recognise the supreme authority of conscience over his whole moral system. It does so, especially, by habitually raising his views to the eternal One, who is the witness of all his conduct, and to whom he is responsible for his actions in each relation of life. It thus tends to preserve him from all those partial and inconsistent courses, into which men are led by the mere desire of approbation, or love of distinction, or by any other of those inferior motives which are really resolvable into self-love.

Such uniformity of moral feeling is equally opposed to another distortion of character, not less at variance with a sound condition of the mind. This is what may be called religious pretension, showing itself by much zeal for particular opinions and certain external observances, while there is no corresponding influence upon the moral feelings and the character. The truths, which form the great object of religious belief, are of so momentous a kind, that, when they are really believed, they cannot fail to produce effects of the most decided and most extensive nature;--and, where this influence is not steadily exhibited, there is a fatal error in the moral economy,--there is either self-deception, or an intention to deceive others. From such inconsistency of character arises an evil, which has a most injurious influence upon two descriptions of persons. Those of one cla.s.s are led to a.s.sign an undue importance to the profession of a peculiar creed and the mere externals of religion,--to certain observations which are considered as characteristic of a particular party, and to abstinence from certain indulgences or pursuits which that party disapprove. Those of the other cla.s.s, finding, in many instances, much zeal for these peculiarities, without a state of moral feeling adapted to the truths which are professed, are apt to consider the whole as either pretence or delusion.

In their mutual error there is to both matter of important warning. It becomes the latter to beware, lest, misled by the failings of weak or inconsistent men, they withdraw their attention from truths of solemn import to themselves as moral beings. There may be much pretension where there is no real feeling; but are they from this ent.i.tled to infer, there is not a reality in that which these pretenders counterfeit. By a slight gilding, articles of trifling value are made to a.s.sume the appearance of gold; but would it be reasonable to contend, that there are no articles of intrinsic worth which these are made to imitate. The fair induction is, in both instances, the opposite. Were there no such articles of pure gold, this ingenuity would not be employed in fabricating base imitations; and the hypocrite would not a.s.sume qualities he does not possess, where there not real virtues, from a resemblance to which he hopes to procure for his character that ostensible value which may enable it to deceive. But let those who have detected this deception beware of founding upon it conclusions which it does not warrant. They have not found the reality here, but there is not the less a pure and high standard which claims their utmost regard. If they search for it either among inconsistent or among designing men, they seek the living among the dead. Let them contemplate it especially as it is displayed in the character of the Messiah: in him it was exhibited in a manner which demands the imitation of every rational man, while it challenges the cordial a.s.sent of the most acute understanding, that this is the perfection of a moral being.

On the other hand, let those, who profess to be influenced by the highest of all motives, study to exhibit their habitual influence in a consistent uniformity of the whole character. It is easy to acquire a peculiar phraseology, to show much zeal for peculiar opinions, and rigid attention to peculiar observances; and, among a party, it is not difficult to procure a name, by condemning certain other compliances which by them are technically styled the manners of the world. But all this, it is evident, may be a.s.sumed; it may be, and probably often is, no better than a name; it often amounts to nothing more than subst.i.tuting one kind of excitement for another, while the moral being continues unchanged. True religion is seated in the heart, and sends out from thence a purifying influence over the whole character. In its essential nature it is a contest within, open only to the eye of Him who seeth in secret. It seeks not, therefore, the applause of men; and it shrinks from that spurious religionism whose prominent characters are talk, and pretension, and external observance, often accompanied by uncharitable censure. Like its divine pattern, it is meek and lowly,--"it is pure and peaceable, gentle and easy to be intreated, full of mercy and of good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy."

It aims not at an ostentatious display of principles, but at a steady exhibition of fruits. Qualities, which it cultivates with especial care, are humility, and charity, and mercy,--the mortification of every selfish pa.s.sion, and the denial of every selfish indulgence. When thus exhibited in its true and genuine characters, it commands the respect of every sound understanding, and challenges the a.s.sent of all to its reality and its truth, as the highest principle that can regulate the conduct of a moral being.

PART IV.

OF THE MORAL RELATION OF MAN TOWARDS THE DEITY.

The healthy state of a moral being is strikingly referred, in the sacred writings, to three great heads,--justice,--benevolence,--and a conformity of the moral feelings to a reverential sense of the presence and perfections of the Deity;--"to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy G.o.d." The two former of these considerations lead us to the duties which a man owes to his fellow-men;--the latter calls our attention to that homage of the mind and of the heart which he owes peculiarly to G.o.d. For the duties of the former cla.s.s we are equally responsible to him, as the moral Governor of the universe, but their immediate reference is to our connexions with other men;--those of the latter cla.s.s respect our relation to the Deity himself, and consequently consist, in a great measure, in the purity and devotedness of the mind.

In human systems of ethics, attention has been chiefly directed to the obligations of social and relative morality;--but the two cla.s.ses are closely a.s.sociated in the sacred writings; and the sound condition of the moral feelings is pointed out as that acquirement which, along with a corresponding integrity of character, qualifies man, in an especial manner, for intercourse with the Deity. "Who shall ascend unto the hill of the Lord, or who shall stand in his holy place. He that hath clean hands and a pure heart, who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn, deceitfully."--"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see G.o.d."

Such declarations challenge the a.s.sent and absolute conviction of every sound understanding. Are we, as responsible creatures, placed in immediate relation to a great moral Governor, a being of infinite purity and boundless perfections:--Is the structure of our bodies, and the still more wonderful fabric of our minds, alike the work of his hand:--Then it is impossible to put away from us the impression,--that each movement of these minds must be fully exposed to his inspection. It is equally impossible to repel from us the solemn truth,--that it is by the desires, the feelings, and the motives of action which exist there, that our condition is to be estimated in his sight,--and that a man, whose conduct to his fellow-men does not violate propriety and justice, may be in a state of moral degradation in the eyes of him who seeth in secret;--"for," says the sacred writer, "man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart."

There cannot, therefore, be an inquiry of more intense interest, than what is that condition of the heart and of the mind which every man ought to seek after, when he considers himself as exposed to the continual inspection of the Almighty. It may, perhaps, be briefly referred to the following heads.

I. A habitual effort to cultivate a sense of the divine presence,--and a habitual desire to have the whole moral condition regulated by this impression. It implies, therefore, sacred respect to the character of the Deity, and is opposed to every kind of profaneness, or aught by which one might weaken, in himself or others, the reverential feeling due towards the character, and even the name of the Almighty. This must be extended, not to the outward conduct alone, but to the desires and affections of the heart. There is a state of mind formerly referred to, in which a desire, which the moral feelings disapprove, may not be followed by volition; while the desire is still indulged, and the mind is allowed to cherish it with some feeling of regret, or even to luxuriate with a sense of pleasure in the imaginary gratification. In the same manner, a malevolent affection to our fellow-men may be checked from producing injurious conduct, while the feeling still rankles in the heart, in the form of envy or hatred. These mental conditions, while they are widely at variance with the healthy state of a rational and responsible being, must be regarded by the Deity as const.i.tuting moral guilt and moral degradation. Nor is it only on the mind, which cherishes malevolent pa.s.sions and impure desires and imaginations, that the Holy One must look with a feeling of condemnation. There may be another mental condition, in which the thoughts and desires are directed to transient and frivolous objects, and thus run to waste amid the trifles of the pa.s.sing hour, without any feeling of the truths and motives which demand the attention of moral beings. The pursuits of such a man may have nothing in them that is referable either to impure desire or malevolent affection. They may be the acquisition of wealth,--the grasp after power,--the love of distinction,--or a devotedness to merely trivial occupations;--while there is a total neglect of those great concerns which really demand our chief and highest regard. Amid the legitimate and even the laudable pursuits of ordinary life, we are too apt to lose sight of those duties and responsibilities which attend a state of moral discipline,--and that culture of the soul required as a preparation for the future state of existence to which we are hastening.

But we cannot doubt that these considerations bear an important aspect in the eye of the Deity; and that the mind in which they hold not a habitual influence is contemplated by him as in a state of moral dest.i.tution.

There are, accordingly, two cla.s.ses of characters clearly pointed out in the sacred writings,--namely, one in whom the conduct indicates the depravity within,--and another, in whom the external character preserves a respectable aspect in the estimation of men, while the moral feelings are in a corrupted condition in the sight of G.o.d. We have formerly endeavoured to trace the laws to which this fact is to be referred, on the principles of the philosophy of the human mind:--they are chiefly two: (1.) We have seen that there are original principles in our nature which lead to a certain exercise of justice, veracity, and benevolence, independently of any recognition of divine authority. They are a part of our moral const.i.tution, and calculated to promote important purposes in the harmony of human society; and they carry along with them a certain principle of reciprocal compensation, which is entirely distinct from any impression of their moral aspect. The man who is deficient in them, indeed, incurs guilt; but a certain discharge of them may arise from mere natural, or even selfish feeling, unconnected with any sense of responsibility; and this consequently conveys no impression of moral approbation. In the very exercise of them a man receives his reward, partly by a feeling of satisfaction, which from the const.i.tution of his nature, they are calculated to yield, and partly as a member of that community where they promote peace, and order, and harmony; and he is not ent.i.tled to look farther, or to claim from them any feeling of merit in the sight of the Deity. (2.) A second principle, which bears an important relation to this subject, is the manner in which a man's character is influenced by the particular motive or pursuit to which he has resigned the guidance of his conduct. One surrenders himself to the animal propensities, and becomes a selfish profligate, insensible to every right principle of action, while his depraved condition is obvious to all around him. A second devotes himself to ambition;--and a third to avarice:--These ruling pa.s.sions, it may be, are found to be adverse to the selfish indulgence and open profligacy of the former; and a character may arise out of them distinguished by much that is decent, and respectable, and worthy of approbation in the eye of man. In a fourth, the ruling motive may be the desire of esteem and approbation; and this may, and often does, become a principle of such influence, as to overpower, in a great measure, the selfish propensities, and to produce a character estimable not only for justice and veracity, but a high degree of active benevolence. Such a man sacrifices to his ruling pa.s.sion much that might be turned to the purposes of ambition, avarice, or selfish indulgence, by those who are guided by these propensities; and, in doing so, he has his reward. He finds it in the gratification of that principle which in him has become predominant; and, rather than forfeit the esteem of those whose approbation he values, he will submit to much personal exertion, and sacrifice much selfish advantage, which others might deem highly worthy of attainment. But all this may go on without any recognition of divine authority; and may all exist in a man in whom there is much impurity of desire, and much deficiency of moral feeling. It is all referable to a motive of a personal nature, and, in the gratification of this, his ruling principle is satisfied.

The state of mind which is under the influence of a habitual sense of the divine presence may, therefore, be considered under two relations,--the one referring more immediately to the Deity,--the other to our fellow-men. The former seems chiefly to include an effort to have every desire, thought, and imagination of the heart, regulated by a sense of the presence and the purity of G.o.d, and in conformity to his will. Amid much feeling of deficiency in these respects, it leads our attention to that interesting mental condition, in which there is a contest and a warfare within,--and a prevailing opposition to every thing that is at variance with the purity of a moral being. The second division includes the cultivation of feelings of kindness and benevolence towards all men;--the love of justice,--the love of truth,--the love of peace,--the forgiveness of injuries,--the mortification of selfishness;--in a word, the earnest and habitual desire to promote the comfort and alleviate the distresses of others.

From these two mental conditions must spring a character, distinguished alike by piety towards G.o.d, and by high integrity, benevolence, and active usefulness towards man. He who earnestly cultivates this purity within, feels that he requires continual watchfulness, and a constant direction of the mind to those truths and moral causes which are calculated to influence his volitions. He feels farther that he is in need of a might not his own in this high design; but for this he knows also he can look, with humble confidence and hope, when, under a sense of moral weakness, he asks its powerful aid.

II. A humble and dutiful submission to the appointments of Providence,--as part of a great system which is regulated by infinite wisdom. The man, who bears upon his mind this sublime impression, has learnt to contemplate the Almighty One as disposing of the events of the lower world, and a.s.signing to each of his rational creatures the place which he occupies. That place, whatever it may be, he perceives has attached to it special duties and responsibilities,--and calls for the cultivation of moral qualities peculiarly adapted to it. Is it one of comfort, wealth, or influence,--solemn obligations arise out of the means of usefulness which these command. Is it one of humble life, privation, or actual suffering,--each of these also has its peculiar duties, and each is to be contemplated as belonging to a great system of moral discipline, in which no part can be wanting in consistency with the harmony of the whole. Such a submission of the soul to the appointments of G.o.d does not preclude the use of all legitimate means for bettering our condition, or for preventing or removing sources of distress. But when, under the proper use of such means, these are not removed, it leads us habitually to that higher power, to whose will all such attempts must be subservient;--and, while it elevates our thoughts above present events and second causes, it reminds us of that great scheme of discipline through which we are pa.s.sing, and the purposes which these events are calculated to promote in our own moral improvement. Viewed under such feelings, the ills of life lose that aspect in which we are too apt to contemplate them; and will be considered with new and peculiar interest, as essential to that system, the great object of which is to prepare and purify us for a higher state of being.

III. A sense of moral imperfection and guilt,--and that humility and devout self-abas.e.m.e.nt which arise out of it. This must be a prominent feeling in every one who views his own conduct, and his mental emotions, in reference to the purity of G.o.d. It naturally leads to supplication for his mercy and forgiveness; and, in the wondrous display of his character, given in the sacred writings, a provision is disclosed, in virtue of which the exercise of mercy is made consistent with the truth and justice of a moral governor. This dispensation of peace we find habitually represented as adapted to man in a state of spiritual dest.i.tution: and no mental condition is more frequently referred to, as acceptable with the Deity, than that which consists of contrition and lowliness of mind.--"Thus sayeth the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit,--to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones." With this state of mind is very naturally a.s.sociated a sense of moral weakness,--and a constant reliance on divine aid, both for direction through life, and for the culture of the moral being.

IV. It is only necessary to add,--a profound sense of grat.i.tude and love towards the Deity as the giver of all good,--as our daily preserver and benefactor. These feelings will have a special reference to the display which he has given of his character, as merciful, gracious, and slow to anger; and to the provision which he has made for the recovery and restoration of his fallen creatures, through "G.o.d manifest in the flesh." Of this divine person, and the work which he came to accomplish, philosophy presumes not to speculate;--but we have seen the light afforded, by the inductions of moral science, respecting the probability of this revelation,--and its adaptation to the actual state of man in his relation to the Deity. We have seen the impression conveyed by the character of the Messiah, considered merely as matter of historical truth,--exhibiting such a pattern, as never appeared in our world, except in him, of a pure and perfect moral being. We have seen, farther, the incontrovertible nature of that evidence, transmitted by testimony, and confirmed, as it is, in a very peculiar manner, by periodical observances, on which the whole revelation is supported;--and the inductions of sound philosophy harmonize with the impressions of the man, who, feeling his own moral necessities, yields his cordial a.s.sent to this mystery of G.o.d, and seeks in its provisions his peace in the life that now is, and his hope for the life that is to come.

From the whole mental condition, thus slightly delineated, there will naturally arise a character and conduct adapted to the feelings and principles which rule within. This implies, as we have seen, a due regulation of the desires, and a habitual direction of them to objects of real and adequate importance,--a diligent cultivation and exercise of all the affections,--and a conduct distinguished, in the highest degree, by purity, integrity, veracity, and active benevolence. It implies a profound submission to the will of the Almighty, which puts to silence every murmuring or repining thought under any dispensation of his providence. It comprehends the habitual suppression of every selfish principle, and the constant aspiration after a state of moral feeling, which proposes to itself no lower standard than that which will bear the inspection of a being of infinite purity. This character seems to correspond with that high tone of morals enjoined in the sacred writings. Its elements are defined and clear;--would we seek to estimate its sublimity and its truth, we have only to compare it with those distorted and temporizing systems which have resulted from the inventions of men. A feeling of dissatisfaction, the same in kind, though it may differ in degree, will attach to them all; and there is none in which we can confidently rest, until we rise to the sublime morality of the gospel. That great system of ethical purity comes to us under the sanction of divine revelation, and established by the miraculous evidence by which the proof of this is conveyed; but it is independent of any other support than that which it carries in itself,--consistency with the character of G.o.d,--and harmony with the best feelings of man. In yielding an absolute consent to its supreme authority, we require no external evidence. We have only to look at the record in its own majestic simplicity, tried by the highest inductions of the philosophy of the moral feelings, to enable us to point to the morality of the gospel, and to say with unshrinking confidence,--this is truth.

If we would seek for that, which must be of all conceivable things of the highest moment both for the peace and the improvement of the moral being, it is to be found in the habit of mind, in which there is the uniform contemplation of the divine character, with a constant reliance on the guidance of the Almighty in every action of life. "One thing,"

says an inspired writer, "have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple."--The man, who thus cultivates the habitual impression of the divine presence, lives in an atmosphere peculiarly his own. The storms which agitate the lower world may blow around or beneath, but they touch not him;--as the traveller has seen from the mountain's top the war of elements below, while he stood in unclouded sunshine. In the works, and ways, and perfections of the Eternal One, he finds a subject of exalted contemplation, in comparison with which the highest inquiries of human science sink into insignificance. It is an exercise, also, which tends at once to elevate and to purify the mind. It raises us from the minor concerns and transient interests which are so apt to occupy us,--to that wondrous field in which "worlds on worlds compose one universe,"--and to that mind which bade them move in their appointed orbits, and maintains them all in undeviating harmony. While it thus teaches us to bend in humble adoration before a wisdom which we cannot fathom, and a power which we cannot comprehend, it directs our attention to a display of moral attributes which at once challenge our reverence and demand our imitation. By thus leading us to compare ourselves with the supreme excellence, it tends to produce true humility, and, at the same time, that habitual aspiration after moral improvement which const.i.tutes the highest state of man. "The proud," says an eloquent writer, "look down upon the earth, and see nothing that creeps upon its surface more n.o.ble than themselves;--the humble look upwards to their G.o.d." This disposition of mind, so far from being opposed to the acquirements of philosophy, sits with peculiar grace upon the man who, through the most zealous cultivation of human science, ascends to the Eternal Cause. The farther he advances in the wonders of nature, the higher he rises in his adoration of the power and the wisdom which guide the whole;--"Where others see a sun, he sees a Deity." And then, in every step of life, whether of danger, distress, or difficulty, the man who cultivates this intercourse with the incomprehensible One "inquires in his temple." He inquires for the guidance of divine wisdom, and the strength of divine aid, in his progress through the state of moral discipline;--he inquires, in a peculiar manner, for this aid in the culture of his moral being, when he views this mighty undertaking in its important reference to the life which is to come;--he inquires for a discernment of the ways of Divine Providence, as he either feels it in his own concerns, or views it in the chain of events which are going on in the world around him. He learns to trace the whole to the same unerring hand which guides the planet in its course; and thus rests in the absolute conviction that the economy of Providence is one great and magnificent system of design and order and harmony. These, we repeat with confidence, are no visions of the imagination, but the sound inductions of a calm and rational philosophy. They are conclusions which compel the a.s.sent of every candid inquirer, when he follows out that investigation of mighty import,--what is G.o.d,--and what is that essence in man which he has endowed with the power of rising to himself.

To enlarge upon these important subjects would lead us away from the proper design of a work, which is intended chiefly to investigate the light we derive from the phenomena of the mind itself. The points which have been stated, as arising out of the impressions of every sound understanding, challenge the a.s.sent of all who believe in a present and presiding Deity,--a being of infinite power and wisdom, and of perfect purity. With him who calls in question this sublime truth, we have no common feeling, and no mutual premises on which an argument can be founded. We must therefore leave him to sit in solitary pride, while he views the chaos which his fancy has framed, and strives to reconcile the discordant elements of a system, in which there are effects without a cause, and harmony without a regulating power; and in which the mind can perceive no element of credibility, consistency, or truth.

With this slight outline, therefore, we must quit a subject of the deepest interest, but which belongs rather to the theologian than to the inquirer in mental science;--and proceed briefly to investigate the means by which the condition of the moral feelings, which has been the subject of the preceding observations, may be promoted and cultivated as the regulating principle of the whole character. Two views may be taken of this point, which, though they harmonize with each other in practice, are to be considered in their philosophical aspect as distinct.

The restoration of man from a state of estrangement, anarchy, or moral death, we are taught in the sacred writings to refer to a power from without the mind,--an influence directly from G.o.d. We have seen the various considerations derived from the phenomena of the mind, and our impressions of the divine character, giving to this great doctrine a probability which claims the a.s.sent of every correct understanding. But, without in any degree losing sight of the truth and the importance of this principle, the immediate object of our attention, as a branch of mental science, is rather the process of the mind itself, by means of which a habitual influence is produced upon the whole character. This is a compound operation which may probably be a.n.a.lysed in the following manner. It seems to be composed of reason,--attention,--and a modification of conception. The province of Reason is to examine the truth of the statements or doctrines, which are proposed to the mind, as calculated to act upon its moral feelings;--and, upon this being done in a correct manner, must depend the validity of the subsequent parts of the mental process. This being premised, it is the office of Attention, aided by reason, to direct the mind a.s.siduously to the truths, so as fully to perceive their relations and tendencies. By the farther process, a.n.a.logous to Conception, they are then placed before us, in such a manner as to give them the effect of real and present existence.

By these means, truths relating to things for which we have not the evidence of our senses, or referring to events which are future, but fully expected to happen, are kept before the mind, and influence the moral feelings and the character, in the same manner as if the facts believed were actually seen, or the events expected were taking place in our view. This mental operation is _Faith_;--and, for the sound exercise of it, the const.i.tuent elements now mentioned are essentially necessary.

The truth must be received by the judgment upon adequate evidence; and, by the other parts of the process, it must be so kept before the mind, that it may exercise such a moral influence as might arise from the actual vision or present existence, of the things believed.

Attention to these considerations will probably enable us to discover some of the fallacies which have obscured and bewildered this important subject. When the impression, which is thus allowed to influence the mind, is one which has not been received by the judgment, upon due examination, and adequate evidence of its truth,--this is enthusiasm, not faith.--Our present course of inquiry does not lead us to treat of the notions which have, in various individuals, been thus allowed to usurp the place of truth. To those who would preserve themselves from the influence of such, the first great inquiry, respecting their own mental impressions, ought to be,--are they facts,--and on what evidence do they rest which can satisfy a sound understanding that they are so.

On the other hand is to be avoided an error, not less dangerous than the wildest fancies of the enthusiast, and not less unworthy of a regulated mind. This consists in treating real and important truths as if they were visions of the imagination, and thus dismissing them, without examination, from the influence which they ought to produce upon the moral feelings. It is singular also to remark, how these two modifications of character may be traced to a condition of the reasoning powers, essentially the same. The former receives a fiction of the imagination, and rests upon it as truth. The latter, acting upon some prejudice or mental impression, which has probably no better foundation, puts away real and important truths without any examination of the evidence on which they are founded. The misapplication of the reasoning powers is the same in both. It consists in proceeding upon mere impression, without exercising the judgment on the question of its evidence,--or on the facts and considerations which are opposed to it.

Two characters of a very opposite description thus meet in that mental condition, which draws them equally, though in different directions, astray from the truth.

When a truth has fully received the sanction of the judgment, the second office of faith is, by attention and conception, to keep it habitually before the mind, so that it may produce its proper influence upon the character. This is to live by faith;--and in this consists that operation of the great principle, which effectually distinguishes it from all pretended feelings and impressions a.s.suming its name. We speak, in common language, of a head-knowledge which does not affect the heart;--and of a man who is sound in his creed, while he shews little of its influence upon his conduct. The mental condition of such a man presents a subject of intense interest. His alleged belief, it is probable, consists merely in words, or in arguing ingeniously on points to which he attaches no real value. These may have been impressed upon him by education;--they may const.i.tute the creed of a party to which he has devoted himself; and he may argue in support of them with all the energy of party zeal. In the same manner, a man may contend warmly in favour of compa.s.sion, whose conduct shows a cold and barren selfishness;--but this is not benevolence;--and the other is not faith.

Both are empty professions of a belief in certain truths, which have never fixed themselves in the mind, so as to become regulating principles or moral causes in the mental const.i.tution. We may indeed suppose another character, slightly removed from this, in which the truths have really received the approbation of the judgment, and yet fail to produce their proper influence. This arises from distorted moral habits, and a vitiated state of the moral faculties, which have destroyed the healthy balance of the whole economy of the mind. The consequence is, that the man perceives and approves of truths, without feeling their tendencies, and without manifesting their power.

Intimately connected with this subject, also, is a remarkable principle in our mental const.i.tution, formerly referred to,--the relation between certain facts or truths, and certain moral emotions, which naturally arise from them, according to the chain of sequences which has been established in the economy of the mind. A close connexion thus exists between our intellectual habits and our moral feelings, which leads to consequences of the utmost practical moment. Though we have little immediate voluntary power over our moral emotions, we have a power over the intellectual processes with which these are a.s.sociated. We can direct the mind to truths, and we can cherish trains of thought, which are calculated to produce correct moral feelings;--and we can avoid or banish mental images or trains of thought, which have an opposite tendency. This is the power over the succession of our thoughts, the due exercise of which forms so important a feature of a well-regulated mind, in regard to intellectual culture;--its influence upon us as moral beings is of still higher and more vital importance.

The sound exercise of that mental condition which we call Faith consists, therefore, in the reception of certain truths by the judgment,--the proper direction of the attention to their moral tendencies,--and the habitual influence of them upon the feelings and the conduct. When the sacred writers tell us that, without faith, it is impossible to please G.o.d,--and when they speak of a man being saved by faith,--it is not to a mere admission of certain truths as part of his creed, that they ascribe consequences so important; but to a state in which these truths are uniformly followed out to certain results, which they are calculated to produce, according to the usual course of sequences in every sound mind. This principle is strikingly ill.u.s.trated by one of these writers, by reference to a simple narrative. During the invasion of Canaan by the armies of Israel, two men were sent forward as spies to bring a report concerning the city of Jericho. The persons engaged in this mission were received in a friendly manner, by a woman whose house was upon the wall of the city;--when their presence was discovered, she hid them from their pursuers; and finally enabled them to escape, by letting them down by a cord from a window. Before taking leave of them, she expressed her firm conviction, that the army to which they belonged was soon to take possession of Jericho, and of the whole country, and she made them swear to her that, when this should take place, they would shew mercy to her father's house. The engagement was strictly fulfilled. When the city was taken, and the other inhabitants destroyed, the woman was preserved, with all her kindred. In this very simple occurrence, the woman is represented, by the sacred writer, as having been saved by faith. The object of her faith was the event which she confidently expected,--that the city of Jericho was to be destroyed.

The ground of her faith was the rapid manner in which the most powerful nations had already fallen before the armies of Israel,--led, as she believed, by a divine power. Acting upon this conviction, in the manner in which a belief so deeply affecting her personal safety was likely to influence any sound mind, she took means for her preservation, by making friends of the spies. Her faith saved her, because without it she would not have made this provision; but, unless she had followed out her belief to the measure which was calculated to effect this object, the mere belief of the event would have availed her nothing. When we therefore ascribe important results to faith, or to any other mental operation, we ascribe them not to the operation itself, but to this followed out to the consequences which it naturally produces, according to the const.i.tution of the human mind. In the same manner, we may speak of one man, in a certain state of danger or difficulty, being saved by his wisdom, and another by his strength. In doing so, we ascribe such results, not to the mere possession of these qualities, but to the efforts which naturally arose from them, in the circ.u.mstances in which the individual was placed. And, when the inspired writer says, that without faith it is impossible to please G.o.d,--he certainly refers to no mere mental impression, and to no barren system of opinions; but to the reception of certain truths, which in our present state of being are entirely the objects of faith, and to all that influence, upon the moral feelings and the character, which these must produce upon every mind that really believes them.

On this great subject, much misconception appears to have arisen from not sufficiently attending to the condition in which, as moral beings, we are placed in the present state of existence, and the important part which must be performed by the mental exercise called faith. As physical and intellectual beings, we have certain relations to the objects by which we are surrounded, and with these we communicate by means of our bodily senses. But, as moral beings, our relations are entirely of a different nature; and the facts and motives, which are calculated to act upon us in these relations, are chiefly the objects of faith: that is, they are not cognizable by any of our senses, but are to be received by a different part of our const.i.tution, and upon a separate kind of evidence. This, accordingly, is the simple but important distinction, referred to by the sacred writer, when, in allusion to our condition as moral beings, he says,--"we walk by faith, not by sight." The objects of sight, here intended to express all the objects of sense, exercise over us a habitual and powerful influence. They constantly obtrude themselves upon our notice without any exertion of our own; and it requires a peculiar exercise of mind to withdraw our attention from them, and to feel the power of events which are future, and of things which are not seen. This mental exercise is Faith. Its special province, as we have seen, is to receive truths which are presented directly to the mind,--to place them before us with all the vividness of actual and present existence,--and to make them exert upon us an agency a.n.a.logous to that which is produced by objects of sight. The next great point in our inquiry, therefore, is, what are the truths which are calculated thus to operate upon us as moral beings, and which it is the object of faith to bring habitually before us.