evident from what he proceeds to say that "the spectacle of an assembly is a hindrance to the occurrence of such thoughts and aspirations," and that "they would not spontaneously rise till the presence of a multitude was forgotten." We are unable to understand why this should be, or should be supposed to be. If it were the case, we are afraid that it would legitimately follow that social worship could not be justified. That "the spectacle of an assembly is a hindrance to the occurrence of the thoughts and aspirations which look direct to God," is a declaration that may be easily turned into a strong objection to such worship; and it is but a poor attempt to balance the objection which is supplied by the after-assertion, that "where they have been devoutly set down beforehand, these thoughts and aspirations may be resumed under such obstacle." But we deny the existence of the obstacle altogether. Religious thoughts and aspirations are not the natives of solitude only. They are the natives of no particular form of circumstance; and there are circumstances connected with the assembling of men together for the purpose of worshiping God, which are quite as favourable to their production as solitude can be. We cannot conceive, indeed, of any circumstances so favourable for their production, and under which they would be so likely to rise spontaneously, as those which are pervaded by the common religious sympathy excited in the house of prayer. Under its influence the people may be solemnly affected as if they stood in the Divine presence itself; and the preacher may deliver the testimony committed to him as if he were there and then inspired. We can confirm our views on this head by Mr. Martineau's own eloquent words. In a most beautiful sermon on Communion of Saints," contained in his former volume, we meet with the following sentences relating to a Christian assembly, which we cannot refrain from placing in advantageous contrast with the doctrine on which we have been last remarking.

"The

"O, how, within that presence whose intimacy enfolds us here, can we ever stay outside the spirit of worship, and perform mere conscientious gestures of the mind, and act a part even with ourselves alone as its spectator! Will nothing short of the death-plunge into eternity steep us in its mystery, and strip off the spirit-wrappings that cover us from the communion of God? We stand here as in heaven's last resort for penetrating to the earnest centre of our nature; and if the fountain of the secret life is still encased and does not flow, no common shock can break the icy crust that binds it..... At such an hour, if the disguises fall not from our hearts, and leave us a disembodied fraternity of souls sending the chorus of common want to heaven, then indeed are we slaves to the earthly life, without that enfranchisement of spirit that makes possible a fellowship of saints,' and exalts us to 'the household of God.""

It has been with a special object before us that we have dwelt so particularly upon the paragraph we have quoted from Mr. Martineau's Preface. That object is not the mere correction of what we consider to be the errors of the paragraph itself, but it is the resistance to a principle to which that error is subordinate. When we are taught that a sermon should be "a lyric expression of the soul," "a personal effusion of conscience and affection," we are well aware that the lesson is urged in favour of the mere sentiment of religion as separate from its

* Endeavours, &c., Vol. I., pp. 194, 195.

doctrinal truth. We believe that one of the defects of this volume is its tendency in the direction just indicated; and we are anxious to shew, on a point relating to the very ideal upon which the volume is constructed, that this tendency is a defect. It has certainly led, in the instance before us, to mistake and inconsistency.

There is a large class of persons who connect with the cultivation of religion as a sentiment, an avowal of indifference to the truth or error of religious opinion. Many of this class look up to Mr. Martineau with the respect of discipleship. He himself cannot, indeed, be numbered with that class. He has, from time to time, given ample proof in practical forms of the importance which he attaches to what he considers to be religious truth. Still it is the case that the exalted place they assign to the mere sentiment of religion, is one of the prominent characteristics of his writings; and, what is perhaps even more to our point, the mode in which he discusses religious questions, gains for him a sympathy that the state of opinion actually existing between him and his readers would often fail to justify. It is his own declaration, that "the readings of philosophy and the creeds of theology are alike transitory; but the discernment of sacred truth and beauty is perpetual and without essential change."* That opinion has influenced him both as to much that he has said, and much that he has left unsaid. That there is considerable truth in it we freely allow; but the truth it contains is not, in our judgment, of the axiomatic character which it is here stated to be. It is only in connection with very large exceptions that we could concur with either part of the statement; and we are afraid that it and similar statements are in danger of being applied to purposes very different from those contemplated by their author. Against that danger we would place a guard. We are disposed to consider even a bigoted attachment to what is taken for truth as better than the neglect of truth, though that neglect may be connected with charitable feelings and pious wishes; and we therefore cannot but treat with very moderate favour those who, though they yield to an enlarged religious sympathy, yet shrink from the effort which may be required to bring their judgment into harmony with their affections; or who perhaps act upon the determination to accommodate the new light which cannot but break, in some degree, upon their understanding, to old forms of belief whose error it is its natural office to expose. We are persuaded that indifference to particular doctrines of Christianity is the high road to indifference to Christianity itself.

In saying that Mr. Martineau's Sermons are particularly acceptable to the class of persons we have just described, we wish it to be clearly understood that we think their influence in this direction is likely to be of a salutary kind. The most serious error into which such persons are liable to fall, is that of exalting the instinctive tendencies of human nature into the great rule of life. Against the philosophy which leads to this result, the volume before us may, in connection with its predecessor, be considered as one indignant protest. The supremacy of moral obligation is the one essential thing, to the preservation and strengthening of which these "Endeavours after the Christian Life" are directed. Unity of character and design is given to the whole of

* Page 332.

these discourses by their being entirely moulded upon this principle. They may be not unfitly described as an exposition of moral philosophy in its religious bearings; and the philosophy they uphold with invariable consistency is that which resolves all moral law into the dictate of conscience. We recognize this view of the case no less clearly in the strenuous assertions of the freedom of the will with which we here meet, than we do in the powerful appeals which are made to man's inherent sense of duty. What can be nobler on the point before us than such a passage as the following:

"Conscience is authority-divine authority-universal authority, or it is nothing. It is a right royal power, that cannot stoop to serve: dethrone it, and it dies. Not even can it consent to be acknowledged as a citizen-king,' chosen by the suffrages of equals, open to their criticism, and removeable at their pleasure. Either it must be owned as bearing a sacred and underived sovereignty, against which argument is impiety, and dreams of redress incur the penalties of treason; or it will decline the earthly sceptre and retire to heaven. It reigns not by the acquiescent will of other powers, but is supreme by nature over all will; nor rules according to any given law, being itself the fountain of all law, the guardian of order, the promulgator of right. Its prerogatives are penetrating and paramount, like God."*

Such sentiments as these are surely calculated to correct any disposition there may be on the part of Mr. Martineau's admirers toward opinions which would place our ideas of mere beauty or utility upon a level with our convictions of truth and duty; and we cannot but hope that they will be the means of teaching to many who need the lesson, that fixed principles of thought and action on all the great concerns of life are matters of supreme importance. Whatever we may think about Mr. Martineau's theological short-comings, we believe that his philosophy is fully adapted to build up a character distinguished for its strict integrity and noble enterprize.

Were we ourselves set to answer the question, What is a Sermon ? we should purposely choose the most general and comprehensive definition we could find. The more comprehensive the definition might be, the better would it answer to the truth of the case. A sermon is such a discourse upon religion as may be addressed to a popular audience. Its main objects are to enkindle in men the religious spirit, and to lead them to the cultivation of religious practice. In order to the accomplishment of these objects, many methods of address may be employed as suitable to different circumstances and necessities, and a sermon may assume all the various forms which are thus required. It is good, as it is made effectively to bear upon the purpose for which it is professedly constructed. It may be a mere expression of religious feeling, and it may also be a piece of close reasoning. It may be historical or doctrinal, or even critical. It may be preceptive or monitory, and it may also be a personal effusion of conscience and affection. Fashioned in each of these ways, it may fulfil the particular end for which it is produced in connection with public worship. It may fulfil that end, too, whether it be extemporaneously delivered or read from a manuscript. It seems to us quite foolish to limit its character and function by any special theory whatever, whether philosophical or religious.

* Page 184.

But it owes

There is, indeed, a class of sermons superior to the rest. its superiority not to any thing specially characteristic of a sermon as such, but to the excellence common to this with other means for human persuasion. The highest kind of sermon is that which approaches nearest to the standard of true eloquence. The truest style of eloquence has been well defined to be "practical reasoning animated by strong emotion. It consists in reasoning on topics calculated to inspire a common interest, expressed in the language of ordinary life, and in that brief, rapid, familiar style which natural emotion ever assumes.”* A sermon which should conform itself to this standard would be perfect as to its mode of construction, and it is the duty of a preacher to strive after such perfection. While, however, he aspires to it, he ought to pay strict attention to the peculiar bent of his own mind and disposition. By following that bent, under such restraints as wisdom and discretion may suggest, he is far more likely to attain to eminence in his profession, than by any effort of imitation, however great be the merit of the model he sets before himself. It is true that one effect of the selfknowledge he cultivates should be the constant preservation of a guard upon those tendencies which may hinder his usefulness; but it is nevertheless in the course pointed out by nature that the path of that usefulness only can lie. When we take into account the wide differences of character and qualification which prevail among the men who are called to occupy the pulpit,-differences which may be all turned to some beneficial purposes as far as the pulpit itself is concerned, one of the last things we should think of recommending would be any thing like uniformity of plan in the composition of sermons. Let any one just call to recollection the gifts of the first half-dozen preachers whose names may occur to him, all of whom may be both worthy and able men, and then ask himself the question, if it be possible that, under any supposable circumstances, their sermons could be "lyric expressions of the soul"? It is a question which will hardly admit of a serious thought.

Mr. Martineau has, we have no doubt, endeavoured to work up to his own rule; but, in so doing, he has also obeyed the law of his own nature. We think we could shew that, in some instances, an adherence to the rule has injured the natural operation, and that in others, nature has triumphantly vindicated her rights by setting the rule at defiance; but we are bound to acknowledge that, after all, there is a considerable affinity between the two. It is, however, the natural manifestation they afford, not their adherence to any rule whatever, which gives to these Sermons their great charm. And it is a great charm which they are thus made to possess. The man himself appears upon every page of them, and it is the man in his full strength that we see. There is nothing tame nor weak in them. They are the utterances of a thinker who severely taxes his thought in order to produce them, and who expects that those into whose hands they come should exert their thought in order to comprehend them. The spiritual development is peculiar as well as strong. It is characterized by logical acuteness and metaphysical subtlety of a high order; but it is still more decidedly characterized by luxuriance of fancy. Every possible opportunity is taken of * Edinburgh Review, No. CXLV., p. 70.

illustrating the matter in hand by means of figure. The most refined speculations are presented in material forms; and it seems to be thought that justice cannot be done to a point until it has been actually painted to the eye. To these intellectual qualities there is added a remarkable depth of affectionate sympathy. The human heart is pierced to the touching of its most hidden springs of emotion. The social connections which exist among men are described so as to bring out in its purest form the mutual love by which they should be animated; and the spirit of kindness and goodness is so diffused throughout the whole texture of sentiment, that to yield to the admiration excited, is at the same time to become the subjects of a moral influence. The intellectual display is indeed sometimes chargeable with extravagance. The reader may now and then have to complain that the metaphysics are too metaphysical for common apprehension; that the logic is so severely conducted as to present a caricature of the opinions of an opponent; and that the figures violate good taste, and obscure the truth they are intended more clearly to exhibit. Here and there the conceptions entertained of the Deity are too anthropomorphic, and the denunciations pronounced against men too unqualified. But we willingly put up with such defects as these, in consideration of the freedom, earnestness and power, of which they are to some extent the results. Nay, when we discover manifest inconsistency of statement, as we occasionally do, we are willing to resolve it into the peculiar ardour with which each separate train of thought is pursued as it offers itself to notice. We cannot, for instance, reconcile together two sermons, which stand side by side, and which are respectively entitled, "The Shadow of Death" and "Great Hopes for Great Souls;" but although we believe the doctrine of the former to be erroneous, we can see how, in a different mood of mind, it arose from the same intense appreciation of the subject under discussion, which presided over the composition of the latter. From the whole, however, it is fully manifest that these Sermons are, even in an extraordinary degree, expressive of the peculiar bent of Mr. Martineau's own mind and temper. That is one of their most striking features; and it is a feature to which they owe a large portion of their attraction. And we consider ourselves, therefore, to be following his better guidance, when we put aside his arbitrary rule and take pattern from his conduct, in the recommendation we offer, that, while aspiring to the highest standard of excellence, a preacher should modify his efforts after that excellence by his own distinctive character. The brilliant displays of a genius to which he himself may have no pretensions, should never make him either ashamed or afraid of the talents which God has specially committed to his trust; and he should steadily resist every temptation to exchange the true coinage of his own brain and heart, for the base and ugly forgeries which can only be produced by aping another.

The character of a sermon ought in a great measure to be fixed, and its form regulated, by the circumstances under which it may be delivered. It should have immediate reference to the condition and wants of those to whom it is addressed. If we employ ourselves but for a few moments in imagining the different religious states of the members of any congregation to which our attention may be directed, we cannot but feel the impropriety of confining the discourses by which they are to be benefited to any one type. An "utterance of meditation from a repre