fore should I give myself the trouble of endeavouring to kindle into a bright flame that which is so soon to expire in perpetual darkness? It is by a laborious process that the intellect is cultivated;—and why should I incur so much labour, if, after all, the intellect itself may have no existence to-morrow? But if I believe that my mind has received from its Maker the stamp of immortality; that it is susceptible of an illimitable improvement; that its powers are destined to be developed more and more through eternity; and that they may be developed in the very light of Jehovah's throne; surely I have good reason for cultivating these faculties to the utmost. I will gain as much intellectual vigour as I can; I will make as many great and lofty acquisitions as I can; for I am labouring for immortality. If I were an Atheist, I could justify myself in remaining as ignorant as a brute; but professing, as I do, to aspire to an immortal existence, I am pressed with considerations to make me diligent in the acquisition of useful knowledge. I profess to hope that, after I am dead, I shall be a companion of the angels; and I would fain begin, while I am here, to cultivate my intellect with reference to mingling in their society.

2. Consider the motives to intellectual improvement that grow out of the different RELATIONS which the two systems contemplate man as sustaining.

As the Atheist knows no God, so he acknowledges no relation to any. Of course he feels no sense of obligation for his existence; for the faculties with which he is endowed, or the opportunities he enjoys for cultivating them: he regards himself as indebted only to chance; and to this it is impossible that he should feel any thing like obligation. Hence there is no motive to the cultivation of his intellect from his relation to any Higher Pow

er: he considers himself as in the strictest sense his own property; and acts upon the principle that there is no God in Heaven to whom he is accountable for any thing. The Christian, on the other hand, not only recognises the existence of Jehovah, but recognises also the most endearing relations between this glorious Being and himself. He looks up to Him as the Being from whom he derived his existence; in whom are all his springs; to whom he is indebted, not only for his intellectual faculties, but for all his means of improving them; and more than all, he contemplates him, through Jesus Christ, as the author of his eternal redemption. And out of these relations grow the strongest obligations to improve his faculties, so far as God gives him opportunity. For so exalted a gift as the human intellect, and for such various means as he enjoys for its cultivation, he feels that he is deeply accountable; and the more so in view of his having forfeited his very existence by sin; and with this accountableness deeply impressed upon his heart, he will of course endeavour to make the best return to his Almighty Benefactor that he can; and one way in which he will do this, will be by cultivating his faculties, so that they may be more vigorously and efficiently employed in his Benefactor's service. I do not mean by this that every true Christian has of course a cultivated intellect: I only mean that Christianity supplies motives for cultivating it, on the ground of obligation to a Higher Power, of which Atheism knows nothing; and that, just in proportion as this influence of Christianity is felt, will the mind of man be enlightened and elevated.

Scarcely less is the difference in the views which the two systems take of the relation that exists between man and his fellow man. The Atheist acknowledges no common bond of union in the human family. He re

gards the existence of each individual as a mere matter of accident; and contemplates each as standing in a sort of insulated dreariness; as obligated in no sense to regard the interests of those around him, especially when they may seem to interfere with his own. The Christian, on the contrary, is taught to regard every man as a brother; all being children of a common parent; all possessing a common nature; all destined to a common immortality :—and this relation, he instantly perceives, involves an obligation to do good to all men as he has opportunity, and especially to those who may be thrown more immediately within his influence. But in what way can he qualify himself to do good more efficiently, than by the diligent culture of his own powers? For an enlarged mind not only enables him directly to impart to others his own useful acquisitions, but also to originate and sustain great systems of effort in the cause of intellectual and moral improvement, which have the world for their field. Will not, therefore, the relation which he sustains to his fellow men, bear powerfully upon him as a motive for gaining as much of intellectual strength as possible, by keeping his faculties in vigorous operation? But no such motive can operate upon the Atheist; for he does not so much as acknowledge its existence. As he denies all moral obligation,-as he does not even recognise in his fellow man a brother, how can he be impelled to intellectual effort from a conviction that he is bound to promote the general improvement of society? The idea is indeed absurd; and he himself would be the first to laugh at it.

Such then are the motives which the two systems present for intellectual culture: let us now contemplate the FIELD which each opens for intellectual exercise.

And here I am willing to admit, if you please, that there is some ground which, in a certain sense, may be said to be common to the Atheist and the Christian. The kingdom of nature spreads itself before the eye of each in all its varied magnificence. The sun, moon and stars, look down in their glory upon both. The revolutions of the planets, the changes of the seasons, the succession of day and night, offer themselves as subjects of investigation to both. The animal kingdom, the vegetable kingdom, the mineral kingdom, each presents its countless forms of being, and its diversified hues of splendour, to the contemplation of both. And man's own nature, not only in the organization of his body, but in the constitution of his mind, is as fairly open to the eye of the one as of the other. Nay we may rise yet higher, and keep on common ground still: for there are numberless events occurring in the moral world,-events which involve the happiness not only of individuals but of nations,-which fall under the observation of the Atheist as truly as of the Christian. And I am willing to concede that the Atheist may be a diligent student both of the works which he sees around him, and of the operations which he feels within him. He may choose the field of his investigation in the heavens, and become eminent as an astronomer; or he may occupy himself in numbering and analyzing the flowers of the field, or in ascertaining the different forms of mineral existence, or in searching into the constitution of the earth which he inhabits, and thus become distinguished in physical science; nay he may look inward, in the exercise of deep and laborious thought, upon his own mind, and make many accurate observations, and even gain the character of an intellectual philosopher; and finally, he may notice the influence of different events and of different

courses of conduct, not only upon individual but national happiness; and may ascertain facts in connexion with this subject, which shall be of great importance: in short, the whole field of science and philosophy is open to him; and it is possible that he may labour diligently, and, to a certain extent, successfully, in any part of it. He has not indeed, as I have attempted to show you, the same motives to labour in it which the Christian has; nevertheless, a simple desire of knowledge, or it may be, a mere intellectual vanity, has often prevailed to render the Atheist a diligent student, and to draw from him valuable contributions, especially to the stock of physical science.

But notwithstanding there is so wide a field for intellectual exercise open in common to the Atheist and the Christian, yet even this common ground is by no means the same to both. What though the Atheist may lift up his eyes to the Heavens, and survey with the telescope that luminous field of grandeur that stretches above him; what though he may dig into the depths of the earth, and analyze the various materials of which it is composed;-what though he may turn his eye upon the wonderful mechanism of his body, or the wonderful mechanism of his mind, and observe how admirably each member of the one, and each faculty of the other, performs its appropriate office; yet how much of the inte rest pertaining to these sublime discoveries is lost, by shutting out the great idea of an intelligent cause; by regarding the whole system of things as an infinitude of atoms dancing in wild and fortuitous confusion, or borne along by a blind and fatal necessity. Admit, for a moment, if you can endure the revolting supposition, that this stupendous fabric of nature exists by accident; that accident has kindled up that sun in the heavens; that