perhaps to have been overpowered by the sense of their responsibility; an unconscious acknowledgment of the confusion into which all self-regarding feelings throw the mind; for no man, truly earnest about an object, critically pauses or turns aside to examine how he is acquitting himself. No! great as are the achievements of inferior principles of action,—the love of power, the pursuit of glory,-the only heroism, fitted for the last extremity of circumstance, is that of disinterested Duty. Others may skilfully and firmly use up their outward resources to the last: but the Christian hero, when all these are gone, has yet to spend himself.

VIII.

"HELP THOU MINE UNBELIEF.”

sects.

MARK IX. 24.

LORD, I BELIEVE; HELP THOU MINE UNBELIEF.

THAT this is an age most sensitive as to its belief, is evident on the slightest inspection of its moral physiognomy. A profound curiosity is awakened respecting the foundations of faith, and the proper treatment of those high problems which religion undertakes to solve. An unexampled proportion of our new literature is theological; of our new buildings, ecclesiastical; of our current conversation, on the condition and prospects of The social movements which are watched with the most anxiety on the one hand, and hope on the other, are recent organizations of religious sympathy and opinion. Even the interests of industry and commerce find, for the moment, rival attractions to dispute their omnipotence; and the church is almost a balance for the exchange. A converted clergyman is as interesting as an apostate statesman; a visit to Rome, as a mission to Washington; a heresy from Germany, as a protocol from Paris; and a new baptism is no less the theme of talk than a new tariff. If theological gossip

were the measure of religious faith, we should be the devoutest of all human generations.

Yet with all this currency of holy words, rarely I believe has there been a scantier exchange of holy thought. We do not meet, eye to eye, and heart to heart, and say, with bosomed breath, "Lo, God is here!" But, rather, with quick observant glance, and loud harsh voice, we notice the posture of others, and discuss the things they say; and go round like a patrol to look in upon the world at prayers. The talk is all critical, about the length or shortness of some one's creed, the warmth or coldness of a people's worship. It tells you what each church thinks of all its neighbours, and repeats to you the image of Christendom in every phase. But flitting from image to image, we nowhere light upon the reality. We stand in one another's presence, like so many mirrors ranged round empty space: turning to each, you see only a distorted grouping of all the rest; which being gone, it would be evident at once, that that polished face could show merely vacancy without a trace of God. Of old, when lived the saints and prophets whose names we take in vain, the language of religion was itself the very incense that rose from burning, fragrant souls to heaven now, it does but analyze the smoke, and explain of what chemistry it comes. Christ "came to bring fire upon earth," and his disciples, after eighteen centuries, are discussing the best patent match to get it kindled !

There is one feature in the professions of the present times, as compared with past, on which it is impossible to reflect without astonishment. There is everywhere

the sharpest discernment of unbelief in others, with an entire freedom from it in one's self. The critic, if you will only go round with him, can show you how it is lurking here and there. He keeps a list of all that his neighbors do not believe. Through the powerful glass of his suspicions he can make you aware of the nicest shades of heresy and from writers who open new veins of thought, can pick out passages so dreadful as to constitute a kind of infidel anthology. From whatever class you choose your guide, this is what he will point out to you. Yet if you turn round and say, 'And now, good friend, what of thine own faith?' you will be delighted to find that it has altogether escaped the universal malady: it has never had a shake; or, if ever ailing, has long got up its good looks, and remains quite sound and firm. Trust, in short, the churches' report of one another, and godlessness is universal; trust their account of themselves, and scepticism is extinct. Nobody hesitates about anything which it is respectable to hold : and the clearest atmosphere of certainty overarches every life, and opens a heaven undarkened by a doubt. And who are these men, before whom the universe is so transparent; for whom the veil of mystery is all withdrawn, or at least hides no awful possibilities? who are always ready to say, "Lord, I believe !" but would look askance at the brother who should meekly respond, "Help thou mine unbelief!"-Smooth, easy men, with broad acres in the country, or heavy tonnage on the sea; with good standing in their profession, or good custom at their shop; living a life so rounded with comfort, and showing a mind so content

to repose on it, that, while rents and freights keep up, you cannot fancy they would much feel the loss of God: and to part with the reversion of heaven would hardly affect them like the news of a large bad debt. They believe soundly, in the same way that they dress neatly; it no more occurs to them to question their habitual creed, than to think in the morning whether they shall put on a toga or a coat: it is a matter of course, that the proprieties be observed, and things that are settled for us be left untouched. Besides, what could be done with the 'common people,' if it were not for God?

Now from this easy faith, sitting so light upon our modern men, I turn to the old Puritan, and am startled by the contrast. However much you may dislike his uncouth looks, and be offended with his whining voice, he is not a man without religion ;—a pity, it may be, that he has taken the holiness and left the beauty of it. Missing it however in his person and in his speech, you find it penetrating his life, and shaping it to high ends of truth and right. He can act and suffer for God's sake; can stand loose from the delusions of property,say that nothing is his own,—and occupy his place as a fiduciary fief from the Lord Paramount of all; can despise gaudy iniquity and see to the heart of every gilded flattery;—can insist on veracity in the council, and simplicity in the church;-feel the Omniscient eye on his state paper as he writes; and the Eternal Spirit directing the course his persecuted step shall take. Yet look into this man's diary, and stand by and overhear his prayers. He loudly bewails his unbelief;-confesses a heart chilled with the very shadow of death;-com