religion, the delight in God, becomes more and more. All that ancient saints ever had thereof, the peace which the world could not give, the rest unto the soul, which Jesus spoke of,—all these are for you and me, here and now and to-day, if we will. Our own souls hunger for it, God offers it to us all. "Come and take," says the Father of the world.
"While Thou, my God, art my Help and Defender,
No cares can o'erwhelm me, no terrors appal;
The wiles and the snares of this world will but render
More lively my hope in my God and my All.
And when Thou demandest the life Thou hast given,
With joy will I answer Thy merciful call ;
And quit Thee on earth, but to find Thee in heaven,
My Portion for ever, my God, and my All."
IX.
OF CONVENTIONAL AND NATURAL SACRAMENTS.
I WILL HAVE MERCY, AND NOT SACRIFICE. Matt. ix. 13.
Nothing in human experience is so lovely as the consciousness of God; nothing so tranquillizing, elevating, beautifying. See it on a merely personal scale in a man, imagine it on a national scale in a great people,—the natural development of religion into its various forms is one of the most beautiful phenomena of the world. But, alas! men too often love to meddle a little with nature; not simply to develope, complete, and perfect what begun spontaneously, but to alter after individual caprice, so that the universal, eternal, and unchangeable force is made to take the form of their personal, temporary, and shifting caprice.
Thus in old gardens you may see pines, yew-trees, and oaks clipped into fantastic and unnatural forms, looking like anything but trees, not works of nature, but tricks of skill. A fan, a pyramid, or a peacock is taken for the model of a tree, and the poor oak or yew is teased into
