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RELIGIOUS LIBERALISM.

Ir is a trite observation, that human nature is prone to run into extremes. This is remarkably the case as it respects religion. An important lesson may be learned by contrasting the religious bigotry of a former age with the religious liberalism of the present. Toleration, two or three centuries ago, was very little understood. No man was content with holding his own sentiments, without at the same time endeavouring to make every one else hold them too. And every history of our country will inform us, that the Roman Catholics, so long as they were the ruling party, enforced unanimity of opinion by arguments gathered from the prison and the stake. Even in later times it must be confessed that a facture of the same severity remained. And though few, indeed, for the last two centuries and a half, have perished in England by the hand of the executioner, on account of religion, yet it was by slow degrees that a perfect freedom of judgment was generally established. Now, however, the aspect of things is altered. For though, to be sure, bigotry is not extinct, and there may be those among us, who, if they had opportunity, would be as zealous as their fathers in urging persecution forward, yet a spirit is very widely and increasingly diffused, which, measuring its notions of religion by what all are agreed to hold, denounces, as the narrow-mindedness of party-feeling, all that constitutes the distinctive characteristic of separate professions. Men influenced by this principle have no great affection for creeds, and utterly condemn all damnatory clauses: they rise, as they think, superior to

the

VOL. I.-NO. XI.

PRICE 1d.

theological disputes: they breathe, as they imagine, a purer atmosphere, and from their height can look down upon all sects as on a level.

Now it is a lamentable fact, that as much energy has been wasted in contending fruitlessly about non-essentials, as, if combined against the common enemies of fundamental truth, might, by God's blessing, have achieved many a victory; yet, because we may dispute unreasonably for trifles, it by no means follows that we must cease to " contend earnestly for the" substantial "faith once delivered to the saints." The apostle Paul was willing, in indifferent matters, to become "all things to all men;" yet we find him strenuously asserting, that if any of the Galatians sought to be justified by the law, they were "fallen from grace." And he scruples not to denounce a fearful curse on him who should presume to teach another Gospel, even though he were "an angel from heaven."

The question, therefore, is, What is fundamental truth? Where can we take our stand? A member of the Church of England need not find it difficult to answer. For, besides that he has free access to the sacred Scriptures, which, by the teaching of the Holy Spirit, are able to lead him into all truth, he is furnished, in the forms of sound words handed down to him from past generations, with a summary of the doctrines he professes to believe, so clearly exhibited as to leave him in no doubt respecting his faith. Hence, it is easy for him to see on how many or how few points other religionists accord with him. He can distinguish whether the difference be of discipline or of doctrine; and whether the doctrinal disagreement be in

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matters which his own Church has left undecided, or in those on which she has deemed it fitting to pronounce her solemn judg

ment.

But I will descend a little to particulars. Our Church, since her emancipation from the Romish yoke, has always regarded the corruption of Popery as of fearful magnitude. In the thirty-first article we are told that "the sacrifices of masses, in the which it was commonly said, that the priest did offer Christ for the quick and the dead, to have remission of pain or guilt, were blasphemous fables and dangerous deceits." Now, after this, is it possible that any conscientious Churchman can deem Popery and Protestantism two forms, nearly upon a par, of common Christianity? Either let it be proved from Scripture that our reformers were wrong in thus characterising the mass, and that the Church is to be blamed for retaining such language in her formularies; or let the charge of uncharitable restlessness, which Protestant champions so frequently incur, be for ever silenced. The truth, let us allow for the sake of argument, may be on the one side, may be on the other; but the dispute never must be said to be on trivial matters. As Protestants we may live in peace, yea, in love with Roman Catholics; but we ought never to dissemble that a wide gulf lies betwixt their faith and ours. We may abhor the cruel absurdity which would strive to make the one party agree with the other by force: we ought never to disguise the fact that there is little, very little common ground on which we are both standing. The arguments which are brought against the agitation of Protestant as opposed to Roman Catholic doctrines, would have been equally applicable in the apostolic age to shut the mouths of the first preachers of the Gospel, and to persuade them, instead of making proselytes, to let their countrymen alone; and, instead of exposing the deficiencies of Judaism, and the corrupt traditions introduced into it by the Pharisees, to be content with dwelling on the points in which it agreed with Christianity.

Yet, strong as are her expressions of censure on the Romish doctrines, our Church no where declares that salvation in the Romish communion is impossible: she does, however, in almost Scripture language, raise her warning voice against the certain danger of those who disbelieve the doctrine of the Trinity. If, then, there is little ground common to us and to the Romanists, there is none to us and the Socinians. Can the difference, therefore, be esteemed of no moment? Ought it to be represented as a war of merely speculative. opinions, which had better, for the quiet of the world, be foreborne? Men who could

so advise would be ready to yield every thing which the humble follower of Christ holds dear: they would be justly guilty, in the mind of the believer, of the charge once brought against the Roman masters of the world, "When they have made a desert, then they call it peace." No: there can be no peace betwixt truth and such error. He that can profess to look with complacency on both, might attempt a covenant betwixt God and Mammon-might strive to reconcile Christ with Belial,

Differences of opinion in matters of science are eagerly investigated. No point is thought too unimportant to be tested, no fact too trivial to be maintained. The philosopher, when discordant theories arise before him, carefully pursues his experiments, arranges the evidence they offer, and at once promul gates the result. His object is not concession, not reconciliation, but truth. Is he blamed for this?

Is he not rather lauded and honoured? Why then should the same liberty be denied to the theologian? Why should he be denounced for defining accurately, and maintaining resolutely, that truth on which, not a science, but the salvation of innumerable souls depends?

It will be said, you are encouraging bitterness and acrimony. But I reply, there may be in the mind the fullest persuasion that it has grasped the truth, the most resolute determination to hold and to diffuse it, the most vivid perception of another's error, and yet the kindliest affection towards him. The apostles, though their enemies denounced them as turning the world upside down, were surely actuated by no bitter spirit when they went forth, in spite of opposition, to preach to the nations, who were lying in wickedness, the love of the crucified Jesus. They were gentle and tender to those whose idolatry and sin they rebuked. Acrimony is no meet associate of truth. Must the physician be angry because he has discovered his patient's imminent danger? But if the poor sufferer, unwilling to acknowledge his malady, would repulse the kind hand that administers his medicine, is he, therefore, to be left? He will only be the more pitied by a humane mind. And so, to leave a man in error, to palliate his moral danger, to soothe him with crying peace, when the Word of God declares that there is no peace, is the mark rather of impatience than of charity, is the act of him who feels not for another's welfare, rather than of one in whose bosom burns the heavenly flame of good-will towards his fellowcreatures.

Let Christians strive to overcome that infirmity of their nature which mingles evil with their holiest things; let all "anger

and wrath, and bitterness," be put aside; let them speak the truth in love, lest they throw a stumbling-block in any man's way. But let them never fall "from their avowed stedfastness;" let them be persuaded to make no concessions to error; let them be deterred by no stigma from maintaining the purity of faith, and the exclusiveness of truth. The standard of the Lord must be more boldly displayed; the difference between good and evil more decidedly marked. Then will the spirit, of which I have been speaking, be checked, and we shall become more "jealous for the Lord God of Hosts." Indifference and amalgamation of right with wrong will be seen to breathe little of this holy jealousy, and, therefore, to detract from that glory which God will not give unto another.

Still, never let the weapons of human warfare be employed in a spiritual contest. Christ's kingdom is "not of this world," and therefore his servants will not fight. They must imitate Him, who was meek and lowly, of whom it was declared, "he shall not strive, nor cry, neither shall any man hear his voice in the streets;" yet he shall "send forth his judgment unto victory."

THE ATHANASIAN CREED.

A DIALOGUE.

I.

To or three days after our meeting with Richard Nelson, we took our walk (it being a pleasant evening towards the end of August,) along the side of a little stream, which we traced for a mile or two down the valley, returning by a kind of natural terrace, which terminated in my favourite beech-walk. The sun was low when we got here; and we stood still (it was not far from Nelson's garden-hedge,) to admire its rich

on the opposite side of the valley. I was pointing out to my friend a bold and almost mountainous outline of hills rising in the distance, far to the west in Lancashire, Pendle-hill, as I fancied, and other lofty tracts in the neighbourhood of Clitheroe; and speculating on the distance they might be

We were

from us.

"Sir," said a voice, which startled me, from my not observing that any one was near; "Pendle-hill must be full fifty miles off; what you see is most likely some of the high ground beyond Halifax."

"Why, Richard," said I," what are you doing down there?" for I could scarcely see more than his head"you seem to be making a strong entrenchment round your castle."

“I dare say, sir," he answered, "you may wonder what I am about; but at this time of year, when the springs are low, I generally spend an hour, when I have leisure in the evening, in repairing the gardenmound, that it may be fit to stand against the assaults of what I call my two winter enemies."

"What can they be?" I asked; "I did not know that you had any enemies."

"Yes, sir, I have," he replied; "at least my garden had two, land-floods and Scotch ponies. Almost every winter, once, if not twice, there is a violent land-flood from the high-ground behind the house; and if this ditch were not kept clear, to take the water off imme

diately, the garden would not recover the damage all commonly last many hours; but that is long enough, the next year. To be sure, this kind of flood does not

you know, sir, to spoil the labour of weeks and months." "That I can understand," I answered; "but how you can be in any alarm about Highland ponies, I cannot imagine."

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Why," said he, "you know, sir, that there is a fair at the town every year, early in the spring, where a great many of these ponies are bought and sold; and for many years past, Mr. Saveall, the owner of this field, has let it for one day and night to the horsedealer (a well-known man out of Lincolnshire), to turn those ponies into, as well as other horses he may have purchased at the fair. The first year I was here, I was not aware of this custom, and had taken no preat a weak place in the hedge during the night, and caution against it; so these little mountaineers got in trod the garden, as one may say, to a mummy. So, to protect myself for the future against such mischievous visitors, I put this fence along, which I was now repairing. And if you will please to look at it, I think you, sir, will allow that it was not badly contrived, though I say it, who should not say it."

All along the whole length of the garden (which might be, perhaps, nearly one hundred yards), on that neatly, about half-way up the slope of the ditch on the side which was next the foot-path, he had fixed very opposite side, a double indented line of sharp strong stakes, pointing upwards, presenting a sort of chevaux de frise; an impenetrable barrier, which no pony, highland or lowland, could possibly get through or

over.

We said something in commendation of his skill and precaution: on which he observed, "I am glad, sir, you approve of what I have done; for it has cost me a good deal of labour. And my neighbour, farmer Yawn, who has been standing by me for the last three quarters of an hour, and went away just as you came up, he says, I am taking a deal of trouble, and very likely for nothing; how can I be sure there will be a land-flood, or that the man will turn in the ponies? and besides (says he), neither land-flood nor ponies would stay twelve hours. But I know better, sir, than to take Mr. Yawn's advice; for if my bit of garden should be ruined for a twelvemonth, it would be no comfort afterwards to think, that perhaps it might not have happened, or that the mischief was quickly done, or that with timely caution it might have been prevented."

After a few more words, we wished him a good evening, and walked on for some little way in silence, which my companion put an end to by saying, "It must be confessed that our friend Nelson is a sensible man; and not the less so (added he, with a smile,) because I am sure he will agree with me in opinion."

For in the course of our walk we had been discussing rather earnestly the subject of the Athanasian Creed; the question between us not being as to the doctrines contained in it, but as to the expediency of retaining it in the Liturgy, supposing any changes should take place in that also, as in every thing else. Not that there was any real difference of opinion between us on that point either; but wishing to know his views on the subject, I had been urging the various objections, such of them at least as are most plausible, and had been gratified with observing how little weight he attached to them; and my satisfaction was the greater, because, from his education and profession, as a layman and a merchant, he could not be accused of what have been scornfully designated as "academical and clerical prejudices."

In the course of our conversation he had expressed himself most earnestly in favour of the Athanasian Creed; alleging for this his opinion, various reasons,

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"Now," said he, "whilst you were talking to our friend Nelson, it struck me that his care about his garden very aptly expresses our duty in respect of this very subject. For why is this creed so obnoxious? simply because it is so strongly and sharply worded ; because it leaves no opening for a semi-socinian or a five-quarter latitudinarian to creep in at; because it presents an insurmountable obstacle to every intruder who would trample under foot the Lord's vineyard. And even if the aspect of things were more favourable, even if there were no sign of danger at hand, I should much rather advise that, like Nelson, we should look forward to probable or possible inroads, than venture to neglect, much less to remove, our fences. I wish," added he, as we concluded our walk and our discussion together, "you would endeavour to ascertain what are the sentiments of our friend Nelson on this subject, for I have no doubt he has turned it over in his mind; and his opinion must certainly be of value, because, happily for himself, he has not been, I suppose, in the way of hearing the profane absurdities that are daily written and spoken against this inestimable creed."

"Yes," said I, "whatever his opinions are, I doubt not they will be found candid, and free from unreasonable prejudice; and I will take an early opportunity of ascertaining them."

Soon after this my friend left me, and I promised to communicate to him the result of my inquiries. The Sunday following, it being a serene autumnal morning, according to the description of the divine poet"most calm, most bright"-I proceeded earlier than usual towards the school.

When I came up to Richard's cottage, he was standing at the gate, with his infant child in his arms, looking as if he could envy no man; as if Sunday were to him, what it should be to us all, the couch of time, care's balm and bay.”

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"You are rather earlier, sir, than usual," he said. "Yes," I answered, "the morning is so lovely, so Sunday-like, I could not endure to stay any longer within doors."

After some few observations had passed between us, -in which he expressed, with an unaffected solemnity of manner peculiar to himself, his sense of the value of each returning Lord's day, calling it (and I think he used, though unconsciously, Izaac Walton's very words), a "step towards a blessed eternity,"-I asked him if he would have any objection to take two or three turns with me in the beech-walk, as it still wanted a considerable time to school.

He answered that he would gladly accompany me, especially as it might be better for the child to be taken under the shade of the trees.

"Richard," said I, "my friend Mr. Woodnot, and I may call him your friend too, was much amused with your plan for keeping off the enemies of your garden. He commended it highly, and thinks you therein set a good example to all true Churchmen, and especially to us of the clergy."

"In what respect, sir?" he asked. "Why," I replied, "in keeping your fences strong and sharp, and contrived in the best possible way to serve the purpose of fences; namely, to preserve one's property from injury. For we understood you to say, that, were it not for a little observation and foresight, however well all might be for three hundred and sixty-four days in the year, in one twenty-four hours all might

be laid waste, either by the torrent from the high ground above you, or by the cattle from your neighbour's field."

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Indeed, sir," he answered, "that is no more than the truth. But I confess I do not exactly see how, in acting thus, I have set any particularly good example. No person of common sense could do otherwise."

As to that," I replied, "perhaps what some witty man said of common honesty, he might too have said of common sense, that it is a very uncommon thing. But be that as it may, it certainly would appear to me to be no mark of sense nor of honesty either, if we Christians, who are put in trust (as St. Paul speaks) with the Gospel,' were to draw back from our strong advanced positions, in the vain hope that the enemy would be content with this success, and encroach no further."

"May I ask, sir," he said, "what it is you refer

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Why, Richard," I replied, "of course you have heard that a great many people think that the Church Prayer-Book ought to be altered; and that, first and foremost, the Athanasian Creed ought to be put out of it."

"Sir," said he, "I have heard more than one person make this observation; but I never took much account of it till about a year or eighteen months ago, when a brother-in-law of mine told me he had been reading extracts from some works in which there were objections made to parts of the Church service, and particularly to the Athanasian Creed, and which, I am sorry to say, he was inclined to admire. So I resolved that, with God's gracious help, I would search the matter out for myself; for surely, sir, it is a matter in which not the clergy only, but we all are deeply interested."

us all.

"You say right," I replied; "the knowledge of God's truth must be the greatest earthly treasure to It unquestionably concerns the laity full as much as it does the clergy, to ascertain the truth and to keep it; also to hand it on, pure and uncorrupted, to their children after them."

He proceeded: "My plan was this: first, to endeavour to make out what was the intention of the Church in appointing this and the other two creeds to be occasionally used; and then to try this Athanasian Creed by Scripture rules; and if I could not reconcile it to them, why then, certainly, however unwillingly, I should have joined in opinion with those who wish to have it left out of the PrayerBook."

"A very good pian," said I; "but you must recollect that the enemies of this creed would ask, what possible reason you could have for being unwilling to part with it, especially when you know that great numhers of people have so vehement a dislike to it."

"Sir," said he, "I have long made up my mind, that on questions of this kind, relating to God and eternity, people's likings and dislikings are not much in the scale either way. But I think, sir, I can offer one or two good excuses for my being unwilling to have this creed laid aside. In the first place, it would give me pain to have any great alterations made in such a book as the Prayer-Book; which I have been used to from my infancy; which as a child I was always taught to reverence; and which (I am not ashamed to say) I do reverence from my heart, more and more, the older I grow. In the next place, I am sure all must allow that some parts of the Athanasian Creed are very noble and beautiful to hear, especially when they are well read or repeated. And again, even a child may see that if this creed be put away, great encouragement will be given, not only to professed infidels, but also to many wild thoughtless persons, who would fain believe that religion, like every thing else, needs to be radically reformed."

"But," said I, will you now tell me what con

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"I remembered," he said, that I had heard you, sir, or some one whose opinion I could take on these subjects, make an observation, that the three creeds were not written all at the same time, but at three dif ferent periods. That the Apostles' Creed was made irst, either in the time of the apostles, or very soon ter. That the Nicene Creed came next, after an interval of two hundred years or more. And that then, again, after another considerable space, I think I understood more than a century, followed the Creed of St. Athanasius, as it is called.

"So it came into my thoughts, that the Church seemed to act like a tender mother very anxious for her children, from the very first; but growing still more and more anxious as they grow older, are more exposed to dangers, and yet less and less willing to yield themselves to her control.

"Thus it may seem, that in the most ancient, the Apostles' Creed, a plain simple rule of faith is given.

In the next, the Nicene Creed, the same rule is kid down, but more at length, and in a tone of anxiety and caution, as if the enemy were at hand.

"But in the last, the Athanasian Creed, where still the very same rule of faith is laid down, the alarm is loudly sounded; there is throughout an expression of urgent warning, as needful for persons in the very midst of foes, some open, and more secret foes, who would roh God of his honour, and man of the everlasting inheritance purchased for him by his Saviour's

blood."

"Indeed," said I, "it is fearful to think to what lengths the pride of human reason will draw those who yield to it. But before you proceed with your statement, I should wish to know what opinion you have come to, respecting what are so falsely, not to say profanely, called the damnatory clauses' in the Athanasian Creed. You are doubtless aware that many good sort of persons, who profess not to disapprove of the other parts of the creed, are (or at least fancy hemselves much offended and hurt in their feeling by these clauses. Observe, I am not now exactly referring to persons who speak harshly or disrespectfully of this creed, but rather to persons of piety and learning, who, with all reverence for it as an ancient and true confession of faith, have yet thought that some of the expressions in it are unnecessarily strong, and what they cannot endure to repeat or to hear.”

"Sir," he replied, "if it is not presumptuous in me to pass my opinion on the conduct of such persons as To represent, I should say to them, if you can endure to believe these things, you may also endure to acknowledge such your belief, and to hear it confirmed by the voice of the Church. The parent who cannot endure to correct his child, will doubtless live to repent his mistaken tenderness, as we are taught in Scripture. And if the Church or her ministers, through like false pity, should no longer endure to hold out to our consciences the terrors of the Lord, we of the people shall no doubt have cause to lament their mistaken tenderness; even though now, like over-indulged children, we may many of us be impatient of strict restraint, or of warnings seemingly severe; yet, if the Church will be but firm to her sacred trust, many souls will doubtless in the end bless God for these very warnings and threatenings, which now they fancy to be almost intolerable. But as to persons who scruple not to speak scornfully and reproachfully of this creed, or any part of it, I must think such language of theirs shews rashness, and ignorance too, very unbecoming a Christian. For, it may well be asked, is a mother to be blamed, who, seeing her child in imminent danger, warns him of it in language the most powerful her tongue can give utterance to? If the Gospel of Christ be indeed our only hope, is not the Church a true

friend to us in telling us so; in making us confess it, as one may almost say, whether we choose or no? If the Gospel of the Lord Jesus be our only hope, is not this kind? Indeed, sir, it is my opinion, that there is nothing in that creed either unscriptural or uncharitable; but quite the contrary. And, sir, if you will not be weary of me, I will try to shew you how I came to this conclusion."

Richard," said I, "you need not fear that you will tire me."

Well, sir," he proceeded, "it seemed to me plain from the Scriptures that Almighty God should be the object of all our love and adoration. From the same Scriptures it also appeared, that the Lord Jesus Christ, our only Saviour and hope, is entitled to all our love and adoration. And again, from the same Scriptures, it appears that the Holy Spirit of God, the only Sanctifier, Guide, and Guardian of his Church, is entitled to all our love and adoration."

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And is not this," he said, " the very doctrine of the first part of the creed; that the Father is God, the Son is God, and the Holy Ghost is God; and yet they are not three Gods, but one God? In like manner, if any man inquire for the very foundation of Christian hope and consolation, surely it is the doctrine that God our Saviour took on him our frail and mortal nature that he was perfect man,' as well as perfect God.' Without this doctrine, the peculiar hopes and consolations of the Gospel fade away and disappear. Now this is the great truth pressed on our thoughts in the second part of the Athanasian Creed, where we are taught boldly to maintain that the right faith is, that we believe and confess-not believe only, but believe and confess, that our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is God and man.'

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"Yes," I answered, it is difficult to imagine how any one who acknowledges the truth of the Scriptures, can deny and question this. But you must, I am sure, be aware that many people object that this doctrine is not simply stated, and so left to every one's own conscience to approve, but that attempts are made to draw out distinctions and explanations which are not in the Scripture, and which no one can understand; and then, after all, people are made to say, that whoever does not believe all this has no chance of salvation."

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Sir," he replied, there is a verse in the Psalms, which seems to give an answer to such objectors: If I should say like them, I should condemn the generation of God's children.' No one will dare deny that those who framed this creed, and those who put it into our Prayer-Book, were good and holy men, sincerely anxious for the honour of Almighty God, and for the salvation of men's souls. It was surely not their fault that these distinctions and explanations (if they are to be so called) became necessary, but the fault of rash or loose-minded people, who attempted to corrupt the hearts of the simple with their false distinctions and false explanations.

"Against such, the Church, as a good parent should, warns her sous in the strongest terms; and if stronger terms could have been found, no doubt she would have used them. And it seems to me, that it is not at all the intention of the Church, in this creed, or any where else, to endeavour to explain what is above human comprehension; but only to warn us, that quibbled and pretended distinctions have been made of old, and will be again, against the essential doctrines of the Gospel; and that, come in whatever shape they may, they are to be opposed at once with a sharp and strong denial; to be at once, and as the article says, thoroughly' rejected.

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"And the absolute need of some such strong impenetrable fence appears from what I have heard, that there have been Church people, and even clergymev.

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