pected, that it would be renewed on this side of the waters, and we look with deep interest to learn in what way it has been commenced and will be maintained. We are anxious to know, whether our countrymen are qualified to take up and extend the christian argument; or whether the advocates of the christian faith here, are unfit to be regarded as the allies of the men, who have spoken on this subject in other times, and in other lands. We are happy to say, that in our view, the controversy in this country, has been in hands not unworthy to be ranked with the Origens and Justins, and Paleys, and Chalmerses, and even Butlers, of other climes.

When we mention the name of Dwight, as the defender of the christian faith at the period of French infidelity, succeeding our revolution; as lifting up his voice in this great controversy with his fellow laborers; we have mentioned a name fitted to rank with the advocates for the christian cause in any land, and fitted to adorn any profession of any times. His two sermons on "modern infidelity," are striking proofs of the fearful controversy in which unbelief may expect to engage this side the waters, and of the gigantic powers which will rebuke the foreign intruder from our shores. In this connection we would also commend to the attention of our readers, the work on the evidences of christianity by Dr. Alexander, of Princeton. As a clear and able exhibition of the argument, it is worthy to be placed beside Paley, and ChalIts influence on the public mind is already deep. It has approached the proper seats of influence. It was originally addressed to the young men of a literary institution, and it may be the means of saving perhaps thousands of young men of talents, from the vortex of unbelief. It is one specimen of what the clergy of this land are called on to accomplish. They possess no small part of the learning and influence of the nation; and they are bound to exert it, by speaking through the press, as well as from the desk, to their countrymen.

mers.

The work which we have placed at the head of this article, is another portion of the American defense of the christian religion. It is a part of that great argument which is to be reared this side the ocean, in defense of the religion of our fathers. Attracted by the growing, and already wide reputation of the author in his own church, and in other christian denominations, we were anxious to look at this, we believe his first considerable production from the press. We felt a deep interest to satisfy ourselves, whether christianity had found in him, an advocate fitted to these times, and especially fitted to the important class of our fellow citizens which he was called to address. On an argument like this, we did not expect or desire, much that was strictly new. We desired a lucid, vigorous, manly exhibition of the argument; a style captivating, elevated, pure; an acquaintance with the varying forms of unbelief:

a manner that should be attractive to young men; and an exhibition of the powers of eloquence, and of thought, of learning, and of classic diction, which should convince young men that christians are not fools, and that they are qualified to enter the lists with opponents of every class, and age, and name. The book we have read commenced at first, to gratify our curiosity; and then continued and closed, because we found it to have other claims, and even after the various works already written, to be fully worthy of an attentive perusal. We could not express our humble sense of its value, in a better way than this; and we have come to the conviction that this book would do honor to any advocate of the christian cause, and that the structure and style of the argument is such, as to be an ornament to the literature of our country. Happy should we be, if we could extend its circulation throughout our land; and especially, if we could be the means of placing it within the reach of any among the numerous youth in our colleges, who may stand on the dividing line of christianity and unbelief.

We do not propose to enter into an analysis of this work. Its history is briefly told. The lectures were delivered in New-York and Brooklyn, by the author, in the capacity of lecturer under the appointment of the university of New-York. They were published at the request of the council of the university. The course embraces the ordinary external proofs of the truth of the christian religion. On the important department of the internal evidences of christianity, he did not, for want of time, enter. It is to be regretted that this department has not as yet been entered, and filled in this land. We know not a finer field now open in any branch of religious investigation, or one that would require more peculiar talents. In some respects it would be far more difficult than the argument for the external proofs of the christian religion; but the proof might be made to reach classes of minds that have hitherto been unaffected by the defense of the christian religion. In no department would there be so much hazard of failure; but no where would the result of success be more rich, or beneficial to mankind. Reinhard's Plan would suggest the outline, or starting point, of such a work. Its execution might demand talents which perhaps this age will not furnish. We here suggest the thought, that the original excellency of the character of Jesus Christ, and his instructions and plan, may yet be seen to be so great; the analogy of his scheme to the works of creation, and the great laws impressed on the universe, may be so wonderful and apparent; the developement of his amazing views in the revolutions of future times, may be so striking; and the influence of his religion on the heart and life so clear; its truths 30 conformed to the advanced state of thinking in the world, as to render comparatively useless the whole argument from miracles. They

were fitted to their time; but who now needs a miracle to teach him, that "the golden rule" is just and binding? So it may be yet, in the development of the plan, and the better understanding of the laws of mind and the relations of things, in regard to christianity as a whole, before the close of the world.

Most heartily do we commend the work before us, to the attention of our readers. It is difficult to abridge an argument, or to give an idea of the character of a work, of continuous and cumulative evidence, by an extract. Instead therefore of incurring the hazard of doing injustice to the reasoning, we choose rather to close our notice of the work, by an extract or two of intrinsic value to this age, apart from their bearing on the argument. They relate to the morals and dying scenes of some of the leading advocates of unbelief.

But to speak more directly of the morals of leading infidels. Bolingbroke was a libertine of intemperate habits and unrestrained lust. Temple was a corrupter of all that came near him, given up to ease and pleasure. Emerson, an eminent mathematician, was "rude, vul gar, and frequently immoral." "Intoxication and profane language were familiar to him. Towards the close of life, being afflicted with the stone, he would crawl about the floor on his hands and knees, sometimes praying, sometimes swearing." The morals of the Earl of Rochester are well known. Godwin was a lewd man by his own confession, as well as the unblushing advocate of lewdness. Shaftesbury and Collins, while endeavoring to destroy the gospel, partook of the Lord's Supper, thus professing the christian faith for admission to office! Woolston was a gross blasphemer. Blount solicited his sister-in law to marry him; and being refused, shot himself. Tindal was originally a protestant, then turned papist, then protestant again, merely to suit the times; and was at the same time infamous for vice in general, and the total want of principle. He is said to have died with this prayer in his mouth: "If there is a God, I desire that he may have mercy on me. Hobbes wrote his Leviathan to serve the cause of Charles I.; but find ing him fail of success, he turned it to the defense of Cromwell, and made a merit of this fact to the usurper: as Hobbes himself unblushingly declared to Lord Clarendon. Need I describe Voltaire-prince of scoffers, as Hume was prince of sceptics; in childhood initiated into infidelity; in boyhood, famous for daring blasphemy; in manhood, distinguished for a malignant, violent temper, for cold-blooded disruptions of all the ties and decencies of the family circle, for the ridicule of whatever was affecting, and the violation of whatever was confidential! Ever increasing in duplicity and hypocritical management, with age and practice, those whom his wit attracted and his buffoonry amused, were either disgusted or polluted by his loathsome vices. Lies, and oaths in their support, were nothing to his maw. Those whom he open

ly called his friends, he took pains secretly to calumniate; flattering them to their faces, ridiculing and reviling them behind their backs. Years only added stiffness to the disgusting features of his impiety, coldness to his dark malignity, and fury to his impetuous temper. Throughout life he was given up "to work all uncleanness with greediness." Such was the witty Voltaire, who, in the midst of his levity, had feeling and seriousness enough to wish he had never been born.

What shall we say of J. J. Rousseau ?—a thief and liar, and debauched profligate, by his own "confession." Educated a protestant, he turned papist for "subsistence;" and afterwards professed protestantism again at Geneva, that he might enjoy the right of citizenship, while all the while he was a foul-mouthed infidel. He began life as an apprentice. Having robbed his master and others, he fled and became a footman, in which capacity, having again acted the thief, he tried to swear the crime on a maid servant, who lost her place by his villainy. Stealing he never abandoned, however abandoned himself. Late in life, he said: "I have been a rogue, and am so still, for trifles which I had rather take than ask for." Of his intercourse with vile women; how he took advantage of the hospitality of friends to ruin the character of those who received him kindly; how he coldly committed one by one the offspring of his base connections, to the charity of the public, that he might be spared their trouble and have room for more; how utterly devoid was this talented infidel, of all natural affection as well as all decency, my lecture is too modest to relate. To use his own language, guilty without remorse, he soon became so without measure. Such was the man whom infidels have delighted to honor. The friends of Christ have reason to thank him for saying, I cannot believe the gospel. For what communion hath light with darkness? And what concord hath Christ with Belial?

Nothing but the circulation attempted, of late, to be given to the scurrilous writings of Paine, induces me to descend low enough amidst "the off-scouring of all things," to speak of that miserable man. His first wife is said to have died of ill usage. His second was rendered so miserable by neglect and unkindness, that thay separated by mutual agreement. His third companion, not his wife, was the victim of his seduction, while he lived upon the hospitality of her husband. Holding a place in the excise of England, he was dismissed for irregularity; restored, and dismissed again for fraud, without recovery. Unable to get employment where he was known, he came to this country, commenced politician, and pretended to some faith in christianity. Congress gave him an office, from which, being soon found guilty of a breach of trust, he was expelled with disgrace. The French revolution allured him to France. Habits of intoxication made him a disagreeable inmate in the house of the American minister, where, out of compassion, he had been received as a guest. During all this time his life was a compound of ingratitude and perfidy, of hypocrisy and avarice, of lewdness and adultery. In June, 1809, the poor creature died in this country. The lady in whose house he lived, relates that "he was daily drunk, and, in his few moments of soberness, was always quarreling with her, and disturbing the peace of the family." At that time "he was deliberately and disgust

ingly filthy." He had an old black woman for his servant, as drunken as her master. He accused her of stealing his rum; she retaliated by accusing him of being an old drunkard. They would lie on the same floor, sprawling, and swearing, and threatening to fight, but too intoxicated to engage in battle. He removed, afterwards, to various families, continuing his habits, and paying for his board only when compelled. In his drunken fits, he was accustomed to talk about the immortality of the soul. Probably much of his book against the inspiration of the scriptures was inspired by his cups. Such was the author of the "Age of Reason;" such the apostle of mob-infidelity. Unhappy man! Neither he, nor Rousseau, nor Voltaire, is dead, except in the flesh Their immortal souls are thinking as actively, at least, as ever. and they will stand, on the same great day, before the bar of God. How awful, in reference to such despisers and scoffers, is that description: "Behold he cometh with clouds; and every eye shall see him, and they also which pierced him." pp. 466-469.

We

No case of dying unbeliever has been made so much of, by way of a set-off to the testimony of christians, as that of David Hume. The evident object of Adam Smith, the narrator, is to put up his friend for a comparison with believers. Gibbon says "he died like a philosopher." Nothing can be more affected, more evidently contrived for stage effect; or, even on infidel principles, more disgraceful to such a mind as Hume's, than the manner of his death, according to the account given by his friend. He knew his end was near. Whether he was to be annihilated, or be forever happy or forever miserable, was a question involved on his own principles, in impenetrable darkness. It was the tremendous question to be then decided. Reason and decency demanded that it should be seriously contemplated. How does he wait the approach of eternity? Said Chesterfield, (an infidel also:) "When one does see death near, let the best or the worst people say what they please, it is a serious consideration." Does Hume treat it es a serious consideration? He is diverting himself! With what? With preparing his Essay in defence of Suicide, for a new edition; reading books of amusement; and sometimes with a game at cards! He is diverting himself again! With what next? With talking silly stuff about Charon and his boat, and the river Styx! Such are a philosopher's diversions, where common sense teaches other people to be, at least, grave and thoughtful. But why divert himself? Why turn off his mind from death? Why the need of his writings, and his cards, and his books of amusement, and his trifling conversations? Was he afraid to let his mind settle down quietly and alone to the contemplation of all that was at stake in the crisis before him? Whatever be the explanation of his levity, it was ill-timed, out of taste, badly got up; an affected piece of over acting, intended for posthumous fame, to say the best of it. He died "as a fool dieth." Take his own views, as thus expressed, at the end of his Natural History of Religion: "The comfortable views exhibited by the belief of futurity are ravishing and delightful. But how