There is every

educated for the inheritance of a throne. thing diminutive, of necessity, in him who is trained only to be a camp-boy or a shoe-black.

When men are educated to contemplation and science, it may not unnaturally be imagined, that their minds, allowing for the difference of their endowments, will, from the similarity of their pursuits, be formed into a similarity of character. This however is, to a great extent, a mistaken opinion. The very objects with which such men are equally conversant, may, from their respective modes of viewing them, become totally unlike, and even contradictory, in their apprehension. It will not be questioned that the mind of a Heathen, studying, with the views of a Heathen, the polytheism of Greece and Rome, would be affected very differently from the mind of a Christian, investigating the same subject. The manner in which we regard any object of inquiry, may differ from some other manner almost as much as any two objects of inquisition may differ from each other. The views of him who regards the firmament as a great blue canopy, and the stars as little sparks of light, differ from the views of the astronomer who considers the firmament as a boundless expansion, and the stars as an innumerable multitude of suns, almost as widely as the two objects of contemplation differ. The manner therefore in which human contemplations are directed may be very various, although the objects are the same. In truth, it is not the grandeur or diminutiveness of the objects, but the greatness or littleness of the views entertained of them, which affect and form the character.

The taste or relish of the mind, particularly, will in a great measure, if not wholly, be formed by this cause. The mind, by an early habit accustomed to little views, will soon learn to relish no other. Accustomed from the beginning to a connection with grovelling objects only, it soon ceases to be pleased with any other objects. Accustomed to form diminutive and debased schemes of action, it becomes easily and finally disgusted with every thing of an enlarged and superior

nature.

As these things are true of all the views entertained by man, so they are especially true of those which may be called original and fundamental; which involve all subordinate ones,. wlach direct every future course of thought, and to which the

mind thinks it necessary to reconcile every succeeding purpose, relish, and opinion. If the stem here be a mere twig, the branches must be poor and diminutive indeed. Thus he, the basis of whose religion was an idol, must form a system of theology and ethics dismally lean and contemptible.

All the motives to human conduct are found, either in the objects with which we converse, or in the views with which we regard them. If the objects or the views be low and debased, low and debased motives only will arise out of them. But motives originate all our conduct, regulate its progress, and determine its nature. If they be low and debased, the conduct will partake of the same characteristics, and will of course be grovelling, unworthy, and odious.

Thus the objects with which we are conversant, and the views which we form of them, will determine both the internal and external character of man.

It will be remarked, that I have considered this subject independently of the peculiar doctrines of Christianity; and for this reason, that I am arguing with those who deny a divine Revelation.

These things being premised, I assert, in accordance with the text, that the proper, natural, and necessary influence of Atheism is to contract, and render grovelling, the views, to corrupt the character, and to deform the life of man. The truth of this assertion I shall attempt to illustrate under the following heads:

I. The views which the Atheist forms of the Natural World:

II. His views of the Moral World:

III. His views of the Future World.

All these I shall also, from time to time, compare with the views which the Christian entertains of the same subjects.

I. I shall consider the views which the Atheist forms of the Natural World.

In this consideration, I am disposed to allow the Atheist all the advantages which he can derive from endowments or acquisitions. He may, with my consent be, what I well know he can be, a Chemist, a Botanist, a Mineralogist, or an Anatomist. He shall, if he pleases, be a Mathematician, a Natural Philosopher, an Astronomer, a Metaphysician, or a Poet. I

mean that he may be any or all of these, so far as one man, of his opinions, can be reasonably supposed to sustain the several characters specified. I will not even avail myself of the celebrated remark of Lord Bacon,' that a little philosophy will make a man an Atheist, but a great deal will make him a Christian; although I entertain not a doubt of its truth. My business is not to dwell on minute things, but to show the nature of those which are of higher importance.

The Atheist then, may with enlarged understanding and skill, contemplate the structure of the heavenly bodies. He may, with the eye of a Naturalist, explore the organization of the vegetable kingdom; may analyse the chemical principles and combinations of plants and minerals; and may trace, to use his own language, the hidden walks of nature, in her mysterious progress through the system. Or with the imagination of the Poet, and the science of the Astronomer, he may be fascinated with the beauty, splendour, and sublimity of the landscape, or delighted with the distances, magnitudes, motions, harmony, and magnificence of the planetary and stellary systems; still his views of all these, and all other natural objects, although in his mind the most illustrious objects which exist, will be poor and pitiable.

All of them, in his opinion, owe their being to fate, accident, or the blind action of stupid matter. They exist for no end, and accomplish none. They spring from no wisdom, and display none. They are therefore what they would have been, had they been made and moved by an Intelligent Cause, without any purpose or design in their creation, a vast apparatus of splendour and magnificence assembled together for nothing; an immense show, in which nothing was intended, and from which nothing can be gained. The mind, in surveying them, asks instinctively and irresistibly, How came this train of wonders into being? and is answered with nothing but perplexity and folly, but doubt and despair. In the same manner it inquires, Of what use will this mighty assemblage of worlds and their furniture prove? The only reply is, of none. All, with all their motions, furniture, and inhabitants, are the result, and under the control, of that iron-handed necessity which exists in the blind operations of unconscious matter; that gloomy Fate of the Heathens, to which they sullenly submitted because they deemed it inevitable; and which, while

it showered calamities in abundance, cut off every hope and every effort of the attainment of deliverance. To the wretch whose mind is effectually imbued with this scheme of things, the universe is changed into a vast prison, where himself and his companions are confined by bolts and bars, forged by the hand of blind, immoveable, and irresistible Destiny; where no heart is found to pity their sufferings, and no hand to lend relief; where no eye looks with sympathy, and no ear listens with tenderness; where the walls reach to heaven, and are hung with clouds and midnight; and where every effort to escape, conducts the miserable tenants only to the sullen cavern of Despair.

Should the Atheist, sick with the forlorn and hopeless contemplation, turn his eye from this scheme of things to his only alternative, the doctrine of Chance, he will find himself equally distant from refreshment and from hope. Here, himself and all other beings in earth, sea, and sky, with all their properties and operations, are mere accidents, involved and perplexed in their movements, like the particles of dust in a whirlwind. In his view, if he understand his system, and will think consistently with himself, his thoughts, volitions, and efforts, the continuance of his own being, and that of all other things, are mere casualties, produced by no cause, upheld by no support, directed by no wisdom, and existing to no purpose. Mere abortions, precarious in the extreme, possessed only of a doubtful and fluctuating existence, they tremble and flutter in a dreadful state of suspense, over the gloomy abyss of Annihilation. All here is doubt and discouragement. Not a plan can be rationally formed, not a hope consistently indulged. Where every thing is to happen, if it exist at all; or where the result of the casualty is, with the same probability, seen to be any thing or nothing; it is plain that nothing can be expected. Against every expectation, the chances are millions of millions to one; for every supposable thing is as likely to exist as any other.

Should it be said, that the Atheist refutes these declarations by his conduct, because he lives and acts like other men, and is no more influenced than others by a regard either to fate or chance, I answer, that the objection is erroneous. The Atheist, instead of refuting these observations, refutes himself. He denies his own principles, and avails himself of the prin

ciples which he opposes. he cannot but know that the necessity of existence, which he professes to believe, is irreconcileable with all freedom of mind, with all voluntariness, with all contrivance. He knows that connection cannot spring from chance, that order cannot arise out of accident; that whatever exists fortuitously, exists independently of all things else, and can never be connected with any other thing, by any moral or useful relation. If therefore he would think and act rationally, he would neither contrive, expect, fear, nor hope; neither build nor plant, neither reap nor gather; but would yield himself up to the control of irresistible Destiny, or to the capricious disposal of Contingence.

If he understands his own scheme,

The works of God are in their own nature beautiful, magnificent, sublime, and wonderful; and by every eye which sees them, their nature must in some degree be discerned. It is readily admitted, therefore, that the Atheist himself, if he be not a sot, must in some degree perceive the sublimity and splendour, which are inherent in the earth and the heavens. But from these illustrious attributes he subtracts immensely, when he denies that they owe their origin to an intelligent and eternal Mind; when he denies that they are moved and ruled by infinite perfection; and that by the same perfection they are conducted to a divine and glorious end, a purpose infinitely excellent and desirable. Without this consideration, all their lustre becomes feeble and fading; a dim taper, gradually declining on the sight towards a final extinction. At the same time, by attributing their existence to Fate, Chance, or Matter, he contracts their greatness, and lowers their elevation, to a measure equally humble and painful; and covers even the bright lights of heaven with a shroud of gloom and obscurity.

When the Christian beholds the earth and the heavens, how different are his views of the same illustrious objects? To him the vast congregation of worlds is the immense and eternal empire of the Self-existent and Omnipresent Jehovah, contrived by his boundless wisdom, chosen by his boundless goodness, and executed by his boundless power. This single thought, like the rising of the sun upon this benighted world, imparts to the universe, in a moment, a diffusive and illimitable splen dour, investing, explaining, and adorning all the beings of