phobia, is the last thing I shall mention. This small book, if read with attention and candour, will not fail to carry conviction to the mind: it dwells on those grand points in which NewEngland divinity is made the subject of censure. But its fate has been to be condemned by those who have not read it. There are many writings and publications, the productions of a much younger class of men, which, while they exhibit handsome specimens of classical excellence, maintain and fully illustrate the same strain of sentiment and doctrine; but brevity forbids their enumeration. New-England, in a space of two hundred and fifty miles square, has, in fact, produced more sermons, essays, religious tracts, and theological publications, and those which are respectable and important in their kind, than all the rest of America. Nor is there a people on earth, whose religious tenets are better known, or more ably defended. Yet, we are solemnly assured by an Anti-Hopkinsian sectarian, that there are no books, documents, &c., by which their principles can be known.

The truth is, there is no such sect of people on earth as Hopkinsians, and I would to God there had never been such an appellation known among Christians as Calvinists; especially, without they had adopted the name of a more lovely and Christ like man. This rage for nick-naming sects and exalting the opinions and authorities of men, is but a younger shoot of the grand apostacy.

The books and writings I have mentioned in the very imperfect sketch above, are not censured or exploded, on account of their faults, regarded as literary productions; far from it: that is the least of all the fears of their adversaries. On the contrary, the known conviction they carry with them, the force of native genius they evince, and the spirit of piety they breathe, is what renders them so much dreaded, and is the real clue to the motive of those unwearied endeavours to keep them out of sight, and to hiss them into silence.

Perhaps I ought not to close so copious an account of writers, without saying something about the Investigator. It was a rule with the Spectator, that, so long as he was unknown, he might say what he pleased of himself; might even applaud his own

writings at pleasure; and he often did it. I see no reason why I have not the same right; and perhaps it is even more necessary for me to do it, than it was for him: however as to that, I shall do as I please. In the mean time, I shall say a few things.

In the first place, they may say many unpleasant things, but they cannot say I am not a writer. As a proof that I can write, here is the triangle. It has been written, and it will be read, it will spread wide, and will be remembered. In the second place, this thing has not been excited merely as an attack on error; it is offered to the public as a detergent to an intolerant, bigoted, and persecuting spirit; as a diluent to the moral buckram with which some minds are most dreadfully encased; as a refrigerent to the calenture of ambition; as an emulgent to a selfish heart; as a sudorific to the sedative frigidity of hatred; as a tonic to the atony of general benevolence; as a laxative to the gripe of spiritual pride in fact, as a universal nostrum against meddling with those who are disposed to think for themselves. And, from concurrent prognostics, I think it must produce a good effect.

In the last place, the Investigator is a physiognomist; gives lectures on heads, and can draw portraits. No portrait has yet appeared, though I perceive some rough etchings in the former series have been readily claimed. One thing I engage, if I hereafter draw a portrait, the true Bucephalus will instantly, as of old, neigh at his own likeness.

INVESTIGATOR.

No. II.

I SAID, in a former number, that attemps had been made to excite an odium against Hopkinsianism. To many, no doubt, this appears an unjust accusation. But however it may appear, it is true, and can be fully vindicated. They say that Hopkinsians hold that a Christian ought to be willing to be damned. The most that Hopkinsians contend for is, that there may be a

time when a Christian may feel in his heart to acquiesce in the justice of God, even though God should cast him off for ever.

us examine this point.

Let

The clamors on this subject are too absurd and ridiculous to be heard with patience. I said perhaps enough in a former number; but I will here repeat, that the Hopkinsians hold no more, relative to this matter, than must be admitted by all who believe in divine providence.

Their teachers are in the habit of insisting much on the doctine of submission to the divine will; which, I hope, will not be considered as an error. They hold, that all rational creatures ought to feel perfect resignation to the will of God. But resignation implies holiness, and God has manifested it to be his will, that holy creatures should be happy. A holy creature, therefore, is not required to be willing to be damned, because it is not God's will that he should be damned. They dwell much on this point, that every real Christian entertains a strong sense of his own desert, and of the justice of God, in his condemnation, as a sinner; and they believe that a Christian may be rightly disposed towards God, i. e. may love him supremely before he has any evidence that God will save him. In this case, therefore, the converted sinner sees, and fully acquiesces in, the justice of God: nay, is often heard to say, "I feel that God would be just in my condemnation; I feel and know that I deserve his wrath; and I see clearly the beauty and the glory of his justice, as well as of his mercy."

The elements, and every point in this whole business, are now before the reader, and may be reduced to a set of definite propositions, which, for the sake of perspicuity, I will here set down.

1. Every rational creature ought to feel perfect resignation to the will of God. Will any one deny this?

2. Perfect resignation to God's will implies holiness, i. e. love to God.

3. It is the will of God that creatures who love him shall not be miserable. This will not be denied.

4. Every good man has a strong sense of the justice of God

in his condemnation as a sinner, for without this he would have no idea of grace in his salvation. This cannot be denied.

The promise of God to save a believer, by grace, cannot diminish that believer's sense of his own desert. Even pardon clearly implies the justice of punishment, or else there can be no grace in pardon.

reader, as he values the truth,

5. The Christian may feel rightly disposed towards God and his government, that is, may love God, before he has an evidence that God will save him. This is out of the triangle, and will be denied. But I beg the to attend with candor to this point. It may affect his own religion and hopes more than he is aware of. This proposition is denied, because it militates against the grand fortress and strong hold of what I call selfishness.

I justify the proposition by the following reasons:

1. The real Christian may judge incorrectly of his own exercises and feelings. They may be of the right kind, without his having any degree of confidence in them. Thus I have no doubt it happens, that many a converted soul does not come to a due estimate of his exercises towards God, for hours, nay, days and months after his conversion. He has the feelings of a child, but no confidence in those feelings. It is a very rare thing that a renewed sinner is able to say, "This is faith-this is love-this is holiness-I am born again," immediately, the first moment after his regeneration. When I see a christian come forward in that manner, I am doubtful, and have reason to fear he is deluded. Nor will he be very ready to give in to the opinion of any one who may officiously tell him, he is a renewed man; and such persons there are always at hand. He will perhaps say, "I think I love God-I seem to perceive the glory and fulness of Christ, but the matter is too important; I fear I am mistaken."

2. The Christian's confidence of salvation is not the cause, but the effect, of his love to God. There is not a more fatal error in the church, and to the souls of men, than the supposition, that the sinner begins to love God in consequence of discovering that God is going to save him. The thing itself speaks and shows sheer selfishness, with the broadest grin.

I am

amazed that the bare suggestion should not excite alarm and suspicion, distrust and aversion. What says our Saviour? "If. ye love them that love you, what thank have ye?" Do not even sinners love those that love them? Such a kind of love is no sign of grace. That which I feel towards God, when I see that he will save me, is gratitude. Nothing can be more certain than that all the wicked on earth, and that all the devils in hell, could they discover that God was going to make them eternally happy, would love him for it, would feel very grateful, would think him a very good being. Let those who trust in such a kind of love to God be assured, that their foundation is sand.

3. The nature of that love, which is due to God from all creatures, shows, with the brightness of a sunbeam, that it is far above gratitude, or any return or reflection of kindness. What is the ground of the most perfect and exalted friendship among men? Is it a mere requital of kindness, a reflection of interest? Does it rest on the narrow ground of reciprocal benefits ? Is it not grounded on the high and estimable qualities which two persons may discover in each other? What if General Washington had reprieved a criminal from death, or paid his ransom, would that criminal perceive in that generous act the highest and utmost ground of respect? Robespierre or Cataline, might have done him the same kindness. In truth, all that God has done for one sinner bears no more proportion to the grounds of regard discoverable in his nature and character, than a single grain of sand bears to the universe. Hence,

4. Love to God is not the effect or consequence of faith ; it is coeval with it, nay, it is in, and belongs to the nature of faith. Faith without love is good for nothing-is dead-is no better than the faith of devils. As there can be no holiness in the heart previous to love, and as nothing can be acceptable to God without holiness, we may rest assured that holiness is not only a concomitant, but a constituent of faith.

It may further be observed, that consequent on regeneration there can be no earlier exercise of heart than love to God; and, I leave it to the accute and able theologian to say, whether he can perceive any thing in regeneration itself, but a change of heart from hatred to the love of God. But by love, here, I