not "know" the essence of "the spirit of man ;" and we do not "know" the essence of "the spirit of the beast.' We are just as little acquainted with the substance that animates our own frame, as we are with the substance that animates the frame of the animal kingdom beneath us; we are just as little acquainted with the precise character of that spiritual substance which forms our own minds, as we are with that spiritual substance which instinctively directs the movements of the lower animal creation. "Who knoweth" (we may ask) "the spirit of man, that goeth upward; and the spirit of the beast, that goeth downward to the earth?"

But if we know nothing of the essence of the spirit of man or of the animal kingdom, does it follow that we can see no distinctive difference between them? If that were the case, we should at once dismiss all anxiety about the condition of our own minds now, or the prospects of our own minds hereafter. But although we know nothing of the essence, either of the animating principle in beasts that dies with them, or of the informing as well as animating principle in man that outlives the body which dies, we do know a very marked distinction between the And this brings us to the subject we have now to discuss: namely―The powers and prospects of the human soul.

two.

I. What are the powers of the human soul?

We take it, that they may be divided into two: the power of thought—and the power of feeling. We are not at all anxious to multiply distinctions, and go minutely into them, until we shall have exhausted every possible arrangement of the human faculties; our object is rather to offer a plain statement of a great and important subject, in order that its being the more clearly perceived may contribute to its being the more powerfully felt and the more easily carried out into practical effect. Dividing, then, the powers of the human soul into two-the power of thought and the power of feeling-let us look at the two for a moment.

What an amazing power is this power of thought!-which distinguishes the spirit of man from the spirit of the beasts that perish. Look at the range, to which the power of thought enables man to extend his researches and his meditations. There is nothing upon the earth, that you can place beyond the circle of his investigation; there is nothing in heaven, to which you can forbid him to aspire as an object for examination. There is nothing visible, there is nothing tangible, there is nothing with which his senses can come into contact, that this power of thought in the soul which God has given him will not enable him to investigate, and to derive from it some lessons of truth, and some stimulus to a farther exertion to expand the intellect that he has thus begun to exercise. There is nothing in the whole range of science, the principles of which this power of thought will not enable man to take up and to explore; and there is nothing in the whole circle of the arts, which this power of thought will not enable man in some degree at least to accomplish or endeavour to accomplish. There is nothing within the circuit of his own neighbourhood, that the power of thought does not at once adopt, and amalgamate with itself, and associate with the stock of its ideas; there is nothing beyond the immediate circuit of his own fellowship, that he is not equally ready to take up and to make his own, until, extending over all the countries of the world, the wide sea with all its wonders invites, but defies not this power of thought; and when the earth with all its waters has presented fields over which it has delightedly expatiated, the heavens above are not found too distant for a yet further effort of its might, and the intellect (when the senses cannot carry out its aspiration after fresh regions) creates its telescopic media, and looks through the aid of its contrivances beyond the common range of the senses which God has given, and when vision as it came from the Creator's hand has failed, the power of thought that belongs to the human spirit supplies the shortness of its own power of sight, and explores regions before unknown, and measures fields, the existence of which never reached the intelligence of our fathers.

But is this the whole extent of the power of thought? This is only the physical field, over which it ranges: it has another region, perfectly distinct from thiswith which it becomes just as familiar. It has the region of the moral contemplations. The power of thought, having explored the wide field of matter, makes

its way to the path of morals, and examines the characteristic features of those duties and those obligations that devolve on man. We find it examining all those varied duties, and comparing man's interests with the powers with which God has endowed him for securing those interests. And we find this power of thought, not satisfied with what it can itself discover in this important and interesting field, looking yet higher, and groping its way, until by the aid of inspired testimony it stands associated with the direct discoveries of God himself, and makes the volume of inspired Truth the region in which at last it finds itself expatiating. The power of thought, therefore, you perceive, is fitted, not only for the contemplation of all that is great and useful in the physical world, but for the contemplation of all that is grand and pure and ennobling in the moral world-for the contemplation of all that can be brought before it in the religious world.

But (which is still more remarkable, still more interesting)-this power of thought is capable of examining itself. Here is the grand distinction between man and the whole of the living creation around him. Never do the animals turn their thoughts inward, and reflect upon a mental economy of their own, and by exploring the movements of their own animating principle discover by what means the Creator has taught them to "live and move and have their being.' This is unknown in the world below man; and here we find a marked distinction between man, whose "spirit goeth upward," and the beast, whose "spirit goeth downward to the earth." No self-contemplation characterises the animal kingdom, after we have left its first, its chief being-Man. All will then be found looking out for mere subsistence, and looking round for mere security; whilst no consciousness is found to exist, and no contemplation, of the movements within. But take the soul of man, and you find, after it has expanded itself and acquired a facility of exercising itself, after it has spread its wings and tried the power of its pinions, after it has looked round on all nature, forward to the future and backward to the past, after it has looked up (with the aid of revelation) into the heaven of heavens of old and down to the dark regions of perdition, after it has surveyed the wide field of morals, it takes itself, and becomes the agent in conducting an inquiry into the laws of its own economy, and developes the great theory of its own movements and the great law of its own existence. This is distinctive of man-"the spirit of man that goeth upward;" this is the power of the soul.

But let us look for a moment to another department of the powers of the soul— the power of feeling. We have seen, that the power of thought must necessarily include all the intellectual faculties; and we shall see, that the power of feeling must include all the social, and consequently all the moral faculties.

If, then, we come to consider man as a being capable of feeling, a new and an interesting field presents itself. We have hitherto regarded man only as a philosopher; we have seen him (as it were) in his study, in the contemplation of every object that surrounds him, every object that can tell upon his interests-in the contemplation of all the works of his Creator-in the contemplation of himselfbut still we have been regarding him only as a contemplative being, we have been looking at him merely as a student. And had we to regard man as possessing no faculties but those that may be classed under the power of thought, his existence for all practical purposes would be found useless, and in the coldness of his investigations he would be found to make up a practically useless history, until at last the race should expire in the neglect of their common interest. This would certainly be the result of the endowment of man with merely contemplative faculties. But when we come to regard him, as having among the powers of his soul the power of feeling as well as of thought, we come at once into society. The sympathies of life require exercise. We have seen the field, in which the intellect exercises itself; and the moment we bring the sympathies of life to look out for employment, the whole of our race present themselves as the field for their exercise. They invite, they encourage, they reward their operation. We find, that heart can beat to heart, and mind to mind. We find, that while each is conscious of his own helplessness, regarding himself as an independent being, he is not left to reason out his duty to help others or to expect that they have to reason out their duty to help him, but he is thrown at once for his safety upon sympathies, which cannot be suppressed,

which cannot be destroyed; sympathies that require objects to make them happy, sympathies that demand occupation in order to minister to the pleasures of life now or the anticipation of pleasures hereafter. He is thrown upon the impulses of our common nature, and not upon the inere reasonings of the intellect. Man is impelled in this matter by feelings which he cannot resist, and not by speculations to which he is logically led. And hence, while his intellectual faculties are given to him, that he may carry out his contemplations over all nature and carry in his contemplations within himself, his power of feeling is given to him, that he may apprehend his union and his fellowship with all around him, and that there may be thus secured mutual help of man to man for the preservation of all. All the happiness of life, ali the pleasures of a kind and a generous friendship, all that is interesting in mutual association, will be found connected with this power of feeling, which aids the power of thought and gives to man his moral capacities.

But this power of feeling extends not merely to man in his present condition; it extends to man in reference to his condition in a world that is yet to come. Look at the Word of God; and what is its object? Is it not designed to create a fel. lowship, which like "a city set upon a hill," shall teach the angels of God" the manifold wisdom" of their common Creator as displayed by the Church? Look at "the general assembly and church of the first born," designated "the living in Jerusalem;" and what are they all, but so many members of one great body, quickened together by a common spirit, "the Spirit of glory and of God," and constrained by a common love, the love of the Lord Jesus Christ? Hear we any thing of Socialism? Here is Socialism, in all its purity, in all its moral greatness, in all its elevated grandeur: a fellowship arising out of the best and most sanctified workings of our moral powers-sanctified by the indwelling of the Spirit of Jesus, consecrated by the blood of Jesus, taught "the truth as it is in Jesus," and holding up lessons of morals with practical illustrations of their power to all the children of men. This is the Socialism of the Word of God; and this the fellowship arising out of the power of feeling, which God has given to us.

That power, however, in order to this, must be instructed by "the glorious Gospel of the blessed God;" and this throws us back again upon the intellectual power, or the power of thought, which we have already been contemplating. If it should be asked by any one-Are we then to yield to mere feeling? and is feeling after all, a fountain of practice? is the power of feeling the energy of the soul-the grand means of quickening and vitality? are we to be carried about by every wind of feeling, the mere creatures of an unbridled enthusiasm ?'-No; for get not, that we have clearly stated that the soul has another power. If we are stating to you now that it has the power of feeling, do not take up that power as if we had said nothing of another, and denounce our enthusiasm for urging the importance of feeling, after we have admitted to you the equal importance of thought. The intellectual faculty is given for the very purpose of directing feeling; and the Word of God is given for the purpose of informing the one and sanctifying the other. And hence the powers that God has given to the human spirit are at once calculated to operate for the contemplation of nature, for the contemplation of the mind itself, for the contemplation of the Word of God, and for the reception of all the influences with which that Word can tell on the relations of life.

Now if such be the character of the human spirit, we can very easily see that great things may be accomplished by it. And let it be constantly remembered, that in proportion to our competency to produce great things, must necessarily be the responsibility under which we are laid. Do you suppose, that God has given these wondrous powers to the spirit of man, without intending to hold man responsible according to the amount of those powers? Would it be reasonable, to suppose that those faculties were given, to be the springs of human action and the sources (as we know) of the greatest evil or the greatest good, and that man was not to be held under the strongest obligation to the God who had thus so highly endowed him? Let us look for a moment at what great power can do, although that power may be confined to a narrow compass, in the affairs of the present world; and we shall then see how we must carry a corresponding responsibility to the exercise of

our powers, with regard to another world. Look at any mechanic, placed in presidency over some of the potent instruments of modern machinery. Machinery of every description abounds in our country; and I have no doubt I address many, who understand the principles of machinery well-not only as it is used for their own support, but as it tends to the advancement of their country and society at large. You know the power, which the springs of machinery are capable of putting forth either for the accomplishment of good or of evil. Touch but some insignificant lever, and the whole of a series of machinery of commanding power will instantly stop; and you have done it perhaps with a finger. Touch it again; and all is in full play. Misdirect it-(and you can do it)—and you know the extent of destruction you can produce; direct it rightly-and you know the amount of usefulness which must necessarily follow. Are you not responsible for this? Look at the man, who on one of the trains on our railways has in his hand the lives of the many individuals, the thousands of individuals, who from time to time travel on these great path-ways of social and of public intercourse; you know his power to do good or to do evil; you know what he can accomplish in the way of good or of evil. And what is the cry of our public journals? Every accident that occurs, brings out more and more of protest and demand from the public press for higher responsibility to be placed upon the management of these exceedingly useful, but at the same time exceedingly dangerous and destructive contrivances? We think it just to hold the men responsible, that have the command of an instrumentality so potent? Now just apply this principle to yourselves. If the soul has the powers, to which I have been directing your attention, who will say it ought not to have a corresponding responsibility? Shall it have powers from the Creator, enabling it to rejoice in its own strength, in the physical, in the intellectual and in the moral world; and shall it revel in its own greatness, reckless of the results of its mighty movements, until it has spread moral mischief from pole to pole, and filled the population of the earth with the power of a depraved ungodliness? Shall it mislead in its intellectual efforts the thoughts of the public? shall it pollute in its moral efforts the feeling of the public? shall it have its power of thought and its power of feeling, and misapply both the one and the other, and in the combination of their misapplied power spread ruin over the whole face of the community?—and shall there be no responsibility? Or rather, is it not necessary, that a power so mighty should be guarded, just as in the case to which I have referred? Who is there, who would not scorn from the statute-book of public legislation the insignificant trifle, by which the man might be fined, that dared to misapply the mighty energy of our public machines? Should we not say-This penalty, this trivial penalty, is a boon upon carelessness, is a boon upon the destruction that may be dealt out upon the face of society, is a positive bribe to these individuals to sport with the lives of their fellows?' Shall we not say the same, with regard to our abuse of the power of thought and the power of feeling, which God has given to the human soul? It has the opportunity, you are quite aware, of persuading to the evil or to the good-of leading the way to the one or to the other; of fashioning the social taste to the one or to the other; and with this power, we must expect that the great Author of the universe would give a tion of corresponding penalty and reward. We should hold the judges of the earth unworthy of the station they occupy, if they did not watch over the exercise of every great power in society; and we should hold, therefore the great Judge of the universe, as acting a part far beneath the indications of wisdom which He has spread through all His works, if He did not bring to bear upon the powers He has given to man the sanction of His own penalties and of His own rewards.

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Here, then, is the soul, with this power of thought and this power of feeling, and the great obligation under which it is laid to exercise those powers rightly. Now what are the prospects that lie before it?

II. This is the second part of the subject:-What are the prospects of a spirit so mighty in intellect, a spirit so well furnished morally to feel, a spirit under obligations so just, so necessary, yet so heavy and so fearful? What are the prospects, to which "the spirit of man that goeth upward" is to look forward?

Is man sure of his safety? Are you sure-in a fallen world (and you know that

we are fallen) are you sure, infallibly sure, of the safety of your soul? We em bark, as it were, in a vessel moved by a mighty machinery-and a machinery, the direction of which we cannot anticipate, but which we know is not infallibly perfect; storms and tempests lie before us, and swell around us; temptations, delusions, snares and darkness are every where multiplied on the path, through which we have to proceed; shall we, then, take our slender bark thus mightily impelled, and shall we meet all these. untried paths of being (for such they yet are to us) with anything like a confidence of safety, unless some power yet higher than our own--that Power that gave us all the faculties that we possess-shall deign to guide our minds and cast light upon our path?

In what point of view can we place the future? Is it not to us full of obscurityis it not to us full of uncertainty-and yet in connection with this obscurity and uncertainty, is it not to us full of danger-unless, through our coming to God and through His throwing light upon our prospects, we understand something of the position that we occupy? Without the light that He only can give, the future is an entire and must be an everlasting blank. Never did the most enlightened Paganism make any discoveries on the circumstances of the future. Never did the most cultivated minds of Greece or Rome make at all transparent the veil that conceals eternity from time. And we need not add, that barbarous tribes, in heathen darkness, had no success in any efforts, which their superstitions might induce them to adopt, in order to discover the circumstances of a world yet unseen. Whether we look at the barbarous or the cultivated, at the enslaved or the freewhether we look at the ancient or the modern-whether we listen to the oracles of Greece or whether we follow the arms of Rome-whether we come to the sober deductions of human wisdom, or whether we look to the rhetorical displays of human pride--we find an uncertainty as dark, as that from which we originally set out, when we seek to know what are the prospects of the soul.

The soul, then, we answer at once-the soul, when left to the mere exercise of its own powers-has no prospects. The proposition assigned for our consideration is, as we have seen-The powers and prospects of the soul; we have looked at its powers, but it has no prospects. The soul of Cicero had no prospects. The soul of Julius Cæsar, with all his learning and all his conquests (and he was great in both), had no prospects. The soul of Cato, with all the stern morality that characterised his outward demeanour, had no prospects; and he fell upon his sword at Utica, ignorant of the circumstances in which he should instantly appear after laying down his tabernacle of clay. The soul of Socrates had no prospects. The soul of Aristotle had no prospects. The soul of Homer, though it could sing of visible things and clothe them with all the beauty of the finest poetry, and though it could look into Pagan mythology and describe a fancied world, which Homer himself did not consider a reality-had actually no prospects. And the same will apply to the whole round of Pagan history. What!' you may say; and had these men no prospects?' They had none. What do you mean by prospects? Something you see; something of which you have some knowledge. When you look out upon the mistiness of a morning, while the swamps around send up their vapours, and from the elevated summit of some towering mountain behold nothing around you but a sea of steam, have you any prospect then? You may know what is beneath, because you had a previous knowledge of the scene; but at that moment the prospect is shut out from view; you are surrounded by a world of vapour, which refuses to admit the prospect you could otherwise enjoy. Now that was just the condition of all the men, to whom I have referred. Immortality was before them, but it was covered with darkness; or if the darkness was removed, and light in any degree introduced, it was only like the enlightened vapour that covers the landscape, but does not reveal its beauty. There was light; but it was dense, it was impervious, it was not transparent. Any little light, which these great men bad, on the character of their own souls, on the nature of the powers they possessed, was a light that opened no prospect into the future. Their condition before God, and the very character of God's government -the circumstances under which the whole world is placed, and the consequent condition in which that world shall be placed in the state of things to come--were