stick to the question, and declared, that it was the divinity of the Scriptures; so he stuck to it, by altering it, and fairly giving it up. He seemed to think, the Lecturer was there to answer him, when his friends had brought him to answer the lecture. But he endorsed it: only he denied, that Cooper was dishonest, though he admitted he was ignorant; and, therefore, gave up the point-"Cooper's perversions of Scripture facts and doctrines." This led his friends to applaud him when he got on to "the (wrong) question," for they saw, that it was all up with one oracle-Mr. Robert Cooper. He quoted a writer, as Christian, to prove the Bible false; and said, the Rev. Howard Hinton held the same doctrine, for (!) in Mr. Hinton's tract it stated, that some words were imperfectly translated!

He quoted two passages of Scripture; one, that the lost sheep was to be cared for, more than the nine hundred and ninety-nine; putting in nine hundred too many. He affirmed, that we are advised in Scripture, "to gather the wheat into the garner, and to burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire!" If he had mentioned more passages, he would have intimated the same amount of ignorance of Scripture as his forsaken friend, Robert Cooper.

He said, Mr. Cooper had made mistakes, but had told some truths; he could not help telling a few truths among many lies: though the lecture had proved ten falsifications in succession in one passage.

He said, Mr. Cooper's object was to prove the Bible full of blunders; but the lecture had proved Cooper full of them, and his defender had not ventured to vindicate Cooper in one point that had been assailed.

So the Infidels are warned by one of their leaders, that "The Infidel's Text Book" is no safe guide. And it was worth Mr. Southwell's visit to settle that point! If his friends are satisfied with this advocacy, the Christians cannot complain. But poor Cooper will say, "save me from my friends," for as there are wolves in sheep's clothing, the lamb had one of these for his defender!

(To be continued.)

I.

CHRIST'S RELIGION.

"Probe all things; hold fast that which is good."-1 THESS. v. 21.

LECTURES TO THE WORKING CLASSES.

BY THE REV. H. W. PARKINSON.

CHRISTIANITY'S PAST, AN EARNEST OF ITS
FUTURE.*

THE practical side of any question is always the most acceptable to an Englishman. By a kind of instinct he fixes on that which is substantial, and his first question will generally be, "what is the use of it." He is himself in his daily life so surrounded by results, and so continually measuring every agency by what it has accomplished that he is impatient of any theory which is chary of an embodiment. He cannot work himself into any enthusiasm about what he calls "notions," or be easily persuaded into furthering that which is not palpable to observation: and, although this may seem inconsistent with his fondness for speculation-in reality it is not so. It is not the mere speculation which he is enamoured of, but what it is likely to bring. The reason why men speculate commercially, is not at all because they enjoy the state of uncertainty concerning the event, but that they so earnestly desire an accession of money, that they are willing to risk what they have, for the chance of more. Speculation is eagerly seized by mankind, just in proportion as men think it-not speculation-but certainty. They do not care how little they have of the former, their hearts being set upon the speedy attainment of that which speculation brings.

Our Lecture to-night will bring us down into this region of common life. We are to see how this God-written poem of Christianity has stirred the hearts of peoples, and become translated into their acts. The atmosphere may be not, altogether, so pure, but it is, unfortunately, more natural, and though we shall have to leave that which is all Divine for that which is partly human, that which is perfect for that which is imperfect; though we may not look only at that pure and cloudless sky of truth,

The third of a course of Lectures, delivered to the Working Classes at Rochdale, by the Rev. H. W. Parkinson.

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through which God has manifested his glories, but must see them now through mists and exhalations which will always dim and often distort them; it will be enough for us, if we discover they are glories still, which the earth itself could never have evolved: it will be enough for us if we discover, that they have been gradually breaking up and scattering their cloudy envelopement, are becoming more visible every day, and contain in themselves the promise, that they shall speedily, with a perfect light, pervade the world.

Bear in mind throughout this entire Lecture the fact to which I have just referred, that when the Divine and the human element act together, we must expect that some of the characteristics of humanity will assert themselves and tarnish the lustre of what would otherwise have been a perfect expression of God's government in the world. Whatever agency may be established there are sure to be deficiences in the working ontwhatever liberty may be permitted it is sure, in some instances, to degenerate into license-whatever power may be conferred it will, in many cases, be abused into despotism-whatever enthusiasm is required, we must not expect it will always be equally sustained-whatever spirit is inculcated, we may presume, its manifestation will vary with individual fidelity and national condition. We do not admit this as any sound objection against Christianity. We deny, that this fact at all proves, that either Christianity itself is defective, or that its power is inoperative in the life of mankind. We say, that if there be signs that the truth is leavening the hearts of humanity, that the agency is becoming more ef fective, the liberty more widely spread, the power more triumphant, the enthusiasm more regular, and the spirit it teaches more genial, we have a right to argue from this, that Christianity is a healthy, soul-converting, life-regenerating power, and that its own prophecies of ultimate universality are consistent with analogy, and their fulfilment an unavoidable consequence of its existence in the world. "Life," says Shelley,

"Life like a dome of many coloured glass,

Stains the white radiance of eternity."

and though there be a revelation of perfect truth, the necessary consequence of its being committed to a fallible instrumentality will be a narrowing and, in some respects, a perversion of its meaning. It would be a study in itself to begin the examination of the different embodiments of Christianity (real and so called) and endeavour to measure their degrees of approach to the absolute standard. Every variety of mental temperament and national characteristic has had its share in influencing the interpretation of that book from whence we derive our principles. Among all the professions of this teaching of Christianity every one has, more or less, affected its belief or its practice for good or for evil. As it has passed through different countries of the earth it has always caught some mark and sign of its visit. Like a river whose waters have become coloured and tinged, by the different soils through which it flows, Christianity has caught an impress of the characteristics with which it has had to contend, so far as its manifestation has been dependent upon the sayings and doings of mankind, but it would thereby be as reasonable in the one case to say,

that the river was not water, as to say, in the other, that, therefore, Chistianity was not truth.

Thus much being premised, and, as we shall have to allude to this remark again before we conclude, let us now for a few minutes try to get hold of one distinctive feature of Christianity, which will give us a key to its first success, and all its after developements.

At the time of its appearance in the world the enquiries of mankind after some determined and axiomatic belief had been prosecuted by the wisest of men, of the most civilized nations of that day, through many long years. Generation after generation had passed away, each asking in its turn for something which should take them out of the region of dreaming and guess-work, and put their foot on some spot of solid rock, however small, so that they might have, at least, one certain point from which they might commence their excursions and measure their advance. The Secularists of that day, were quite as earnest as any Secularists can be now, the great difference being here, that they earnestly wanted to know something about an immortality, but could not get it, whereas now the immortality is revealed, and the Secularists say, it's no use speaking of an hereafter for we never saw it, and, therefore, we don't believe it: on which grounds they might quite as consistently deny, that there will be such a time as next week. These men in ancient times, however, wanted to know something about the future. By whatever motive actuated, in whatever spirit prosecuted, they all aimed at this one conclusion, certainty of information as to man's eternal destiny. There was a deep want in their souls which they desired to fill up. They were conscious of the existence of something which was higher than the merely material. They saw that the same shoulder which could wield a very strong arm, often carried a very weak head, and that in the long run, a man's head was likely to do more for him than his arm; and they naturally argued, that the mind might be capable of growth and might require food just as much as the body. They wanted to get at truth. They set out upon an ocean of speculation destitute of maps or guide, or chart, or compass, and we need not wonder that their voyages were not more successful. imagine a savage born in the middle of an island, and without any knowledge of geography, getting at sometime in his life near to the sea-shore. Imagine him climbing up some mountain-peak, and, as he mounts higher and sees the prospect stretching wider, nothing meets his eye but the vast and apparently limitless ocean. For ought he knows, except the island on which he dwells, there may be no land in the world. These heaving waves may wash no shore but his own. If he were to set sail upon that wide immensity, he might, perhaps, drift along until destruction swallowed him out of sight for ever. Well, it was exactly like this with truth in the days of the old philosophers. They were in this uncomfortable predicament, that, having a long voyage to make, they knew not where to start from, had no vessel to sail, and did not know where it was they wanted to go. Nevertheless they ventured. An irresistible impulsion urged them on. The same spirit which sent them scouring over continents impelled their search after truth: an intense curiosity on the one hand, and a sense of unsatisfied need on the other. They set out on the search after immortality and God, and when they came back defeated

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and disheartened, rather than have no God, they fashioned gods for themselves. The irrepressible desire for worship, which is a part of human nature, would have vent. If no God declared Himself-then they would fashion a god for themselves. If no heaven were revealed-then imagination should paint one for them, and if no light shined in the heavens, they were resolved to have torches on the earth, rather than remain altogether in darkness. And a glorious resolution it was! You may talk about Secularism as you please, but I had rather have any god than none at all. I had rather have any tie binding me to the invisible, than believe that nothing distinguished me from the brutes whose very characteristic is that they perish, and I would rather be an idolater, bowing down to a stone and believing it possessed of spiritual power, than one of those who hold, that all spiritual power is a lie, and whose only belief is, that they don't believe anything, while, on the contrary, they are believ ing the most unreasonable supposition that ever entered the mind of

man.

I will now mention one or two of these manifestations of the desire for spiritual truth. They sought it in Assyria, in the strength of daring, as that which they thought most ennobling to man; in the prowess of the hunter, in the quickness of the eye and the steadiness of the arm. The head of the man and the limbs of the lion were to them the type of what they deemed worthy of imitation. Strength and courage became their embodiment of truth.

They sought it in Egypt, amid mazes of doctrine and subtleties of policy, in hieroglyphic mysteries and strange metamorphoses. They sought to understand the idea, through an attempted translation of it. Wisdom became to them the embodiment of truth.

They sought it in Greece, in things which elevate and refine. Their new world was the world of beauty. The graceful in form and outline and ornament prevailed everywhere. They feasted the eye, the noblest faculty of the soul, and beauty became to them the embodiment of truth.

They sought it in Rome, in equal government, in allotment of place and station and duty and work, in codes and enactments and laws and orders, in the cultivation of inflexible virtue. Justice became to them the embodiment of truth.

But none of these things satisfied. Men seemed as far from peace as ever. They felt how vain it was to go on building until they had discovered a foundation, and they were conscious, that an accession of ideas was not necessarily an accession of truth. None of these things supplied the want they were intended to fill. Strength, courage, wisdom, beauty, justice-truth was in them all-but then they were not truth.

Long before this there had been an utterance in another part of the world, clear and distinct. Amid the strife of tongues it had been hitherto disregarded, and even where, through its earnestness it had made itself heard, many had turned away from it with disdain, because of its very simplicity. Perseverance, however, gained attention for it, and attention once given, it gained a power over the heart. The heavenly teaching found its echo in humanity; and when men had become thoroughly acquainted with it, when, at last, it became their possession, instead of being strength, or courage, or wisdom, or beauty, or justice, lo! it was Love.