agonizing penitence, for the assistance and blessing of Heaven. He may obtain them, and accomplish much. He may break off, link by link, the chains of pernicious habits, and struggle hard to raise himself to the erect attitude and lofty bearing of a free spirit. And he will not struggle in vain. Every thing that is good and holy in heaven and on earth would sympathise with his efforts, and cheer him on his task. But the loss he has suffered is irretrievable. He cannot, during his whole life, reach that point of improvement, which he might have attained, had his early years and uncorrupted powers been devoted to the pursuit of truth and virtue. Whatever acquisitions he may make, whatever eminence he may attain in mental power, or professional skill, it will still be true, that, but for his own negligence, they might have been greater—his capacity of enjoyment, and his powers of doing good might have been much enhanced. And the consciousness of this will abide with him while memory holds her seat,' awakening sentiments of regret, and mingling, like a bitter portion, in the cup of life.

And such, I conceive are the ent life to that which is to come.

relations of the pres

The character here cherished are to go

formed, and the dispositions here with us into eternity, and abide with us there for weal or for woe. I see no reason to suppose from the tenor of scripture, or the analogies of reason, that the dissolution of the body will operate the slightest change on our intellectual or moral natures. The relations in which we shall be placed may be different from those which we at present sustain. Still, our happiness, or our misery, must be adapted to our natures; and as these

are intellectual and moral, and will in that unseen world be exclusively so, the happiness or misery must be the result of our characters-of our characters previously formed. In other words, the effects and consequences of our conduct here will be experienced in eternity. They will form the very tissue of our being. A spiritual essence holy and conformed to the will of God, cannot be otherwise than happy. A spiritual essence unholy and opposed to God's will, cannot be otherwise than unhappy. I see no reason to believe, that the retributions of eternity will take place on any other principles than those which regulate the retributions of the present world, in so far as they are here dispensed. Those apparent irregularities and exceptions such, perhaps, only in appearance-which here perplex our judgment, and exercise our faith, will probably disappear before our purified vision, and under the light of eternity; and we shall be able to witness the steady, and unchecked, and unmodified operation of the great principle I have been endeavoring to elucidate. It will then perhaps be found, that the future state is, in its essential character, only a prolongation of the present, governed by the same laws and subject to the same responsibilities. If this be so, then as certainly as industry and sobriety in early life conduce to competence and respectability, so certainly will a virtuous and holy life lead to 'glory, honour and immortality.' And, on the other hand so surely as a vicious and profligate youth is preparing regret and dishonour for his advancing life, so surely are the sinful and impenitent in the present world, laying up for themselves 'tribulation and anguish,' the' quenchless fire' and 'undying worm' of bitter retrospection for eternity.

If the views above presentd are correct, they are entitled to serious regard, for they come home to the business and bosom' of every man that lives. If such be the conditions of our existence here, who can deem lightly of the responsibility, which this existence imposes? Who can regard any duty as unimportant, or any delinquency as slight? It is sometimes said that Unitarianism is a licentious system, because it represents religion as within our own power-as an easy attainment. Do the views I have presented justify this censure? May it not rather be said, that they tend to discourage the penitent, to drive to despair him who is conscious of a mis-spent life, and who would gladly redeem his past errors, by showing that their consequences cannot be obviated ?--that the punishment of sin must be borne? I do not admit, that these views are, in truth, liable to either of these objections. To the former, surely, they are not. The latter is certainly more plausible; but it is only plausible. I do not say, that true penitence is ever unavailing. Doubtless it is not so. I only say, what reason and the eternal order of God's government say, that it cannot undo what has actually been done. That it cannot obliterate the records of conscience—that it cannot alter the nature of things, and render those actions right which the mind sees to have been wrong, those affections holy which it feels to have been licentious, and those dispositions kind and sincere which it knows to have been treacherous and malignant. I only say, that the past is beyond its power; and is it not so ? It is manifestly beyond the power of omnipotence itself. It must ever remain to us what we our

selves have made it, fixed and unchangeable.

The

time can never arrive, when the soul in its untiring progress from virtue to virtue, and from glory to glory, will be able to look back on a crime committed, or a guilty passion indulged, or an unholy purpose cherished, without a pang of remorse. The more highly its faculties are exalted, its moral sense and spiritual perceptions refined, the keener will become the sense of its delinquencies. The common opinion that when the soul is converted to God, its transgressions in all their natural consequences and effects, are, in strictness and propriety of speech, 'blotted out,' seems to me to have no other foundation than some figurative expressions of scripture loosely interpreted and ill understood. In a most important and blessed sense, undoubtedly, the sins of the true penitent are forgiven; because penitence is the first step in that process of amendment, which leads to a thorough change and renovation of character; and this necessarily produces a corresponding change in the relations he sustains to God. In a word, so far as his character becomes holy, he becomes an object of divine approbation and complacency. But it is not true -it cannot be true-that sins are so forgiven as to be done away-effaced from the memory and conscience of him who is forgiven. While he retains his identity, this can never be. They constitute a part of his history and experience-a part of himself-a portion of his own immortal being. Go where he may, they are with him. Turn his mental eye in whatever direction, they will meet his view. The dark spots will retain their place on the map of the past forever and ever.

But this doctrine is a discouraging one.' And what then? The question is, is it true? If it be, no matter whether it be discouraging or not. That is not our concern. God will take care of his own truth. Let us, however, bear in mind, that it holds out as much encouragement to virtue, as it offers discouregement to vice. Be this as it may, if this be one of the conditions imposed on our existence, we cannot escape from it, nor is it wise, to shut our eyes against the evidence of our existence, because we may deem it less indulgent than we could wish towards those who have sullied by sinful indulgence the purity of their immortal spirits. Perhaps it is desirable that vice and vicious men should be discouraged. It may be, that it was judicious kindness, and worthy the forecast of paternal love, to set up a warning, that the very first step from the high road of rectitude, must be injurious, and might be fatal. M. L. H.

AN INCIDENT AND AN ARGUMENT.

'What has happened to our minister,' said the deacon to his friend, as they walked home from church,— 'he has declared a new heresy today. He says the Son is not equal to the Father. Is not that dreadful?' Why, I don't know' said the friend-'I can't say that I ever thought that he was quite equal.'

1

This is the incident as related.-It may, or it may not be strictly true in all its parts. I attach no particular importance to it as a matter of fact. I introduce it