CHAPTER VII.

ACTION OF THE CHURCH AT THE PRESENT DAY.

I AM come to our third and last period, our own times. England at the present day exhibits the spectacle of a vast population, full of life and energy, pushing their discoveries into every branch of physical science, as though they meant to strip the tree of knowledge bare, and leave nothing to those that are to come after them. That the everlasting Gospel can deal with an age like this is undoubtedly certain; it were rank blasphemy to think or say otherwise; that a church system is possible which can overrule this bold, free, inventive, independent spirit, and bring every thought into captivity to the law of Christ, is no less true; but as for any such system, actually at work, I confess that I see it not on the contrary, I observe much in vogue among large classes of the people, and discarding religion altogether, social and political theories, struck out by the pressure of real grievances, or by startling anomalies, or the despair of any

change for the better, of which I must own to entertaining considerable apprehensions; not that any one who reflects can long rest under the delusion that the world can go on without religion; after the crisis of the fever had past, in which, be it remembered, that the best blood of France had been shed like water on every side, political sagacity restored to the French nation that Christian faith which in their frenzy they had driven from their shores. But nobody likes to buy experience second-hand, we choose to pay the first price for it; and in the process of demonstrating practically the untenableness of these theories, who can tell what calamities might not overtake us? Some one may say that I am talking like a mere alarmist, that the present Church system stands its ground, and answers very well. Let us, then, inquire further into the subject. A church, to fulfil the conditions of its endowment, ought to render the country in which it is established virtuous and happy. Does the Church of England, as now constituted, accomplish these, the proper ends of its being? For an answer to the question we must look at the condition of the people. It is generally admitted, and it is a distinction of which we are no little proud, that at the present age great improvements have been made in social life; we have about us in our houses a great many comforts and

conveniences which former generations had not. Health is more studied, and, as the assurance offices say, the average of life extended; knowledge is widely diffused, and there are a great many new schools and churches. A A person who took a holiday view of us would say that we were in a most flourishing and enviable condition; but take the first improvement noted, in the comforts and conveniences of life: say, that a man who earns no more than a guinea a-week can command more of the accessories that give a zest to existence at his own fireside than could be had a hundred years ago for love or money; are there not, nevertheless, thousands in this great city in which I am writing, and thousands upon thousands more scattered through the manufacturing towns of the provinces, who are, and from their birth upwards have been, utter strangers to these comforts, who herd together in miserable dens, in which we would not allow so much as a dog of our own to live and sleep? Take, secondly, health and longevity. Are there not as many thousands who die annually before the term of human life is half, or even a quarter told, from no other cause in the world than the neglect of the commonest sanitary precautions by those who have, or might have, the power, and ought to have the will, to prevent it? Take the third instance, the

diffusion of knowledge. Can you, with all this boasted spread of knowledge, count the number by hundreds-I give you the units inwho can neither read nor write? Do you point triumphantly to the schools and churches? Is it not a notorious fact that there are, I dare not say how many, who know nothing of the existence of a God, or of the difference between right and wrong, except that which their natural, unenlightened conscience teaches them; who have never so much as heard of the name of Christ; living and dying in a professedly Christian land in absolute helpless, and, we may charitably hope, excusable ignorance of the Saviour who died to redeem them? In confirmation, I will cite the words of an eminent prelate, who has given convincing proof that the habits of the retired student and man of letters are not necessarily incompatible with the active and unwearied discharge of the duties of the episcopal office, when, in the providence of God, the individual be called upon to assume them. The Bishop of St. David's, on occasion of the opening of a college at Carmarthen, in July last, said, "We have sufficient evidence of an immense population growing up with no sense of duty, no restraint upon their passions, with their intellectual qualities not cultivated, and with no rational nor religious

sense of their duty towards each other or their Maker."

But it is not unlikely that my persevering opponent may rejoin, "This is all very true; it is a most distressing state of things; there is no denying it; but you have no right to lay the blame at the Church's door: it is not her fault, it is the fault of the clergy; if they did their duty, things would soon wear a very different appearance."

To this charge I am prepared, with all due courtesy, to give a decided and unequivocal contradiction; the blame does not rest with the clergy. Look round, see what they have done these last ten and fifteen years, and are doing; what zeal, faith, self-devotedness, men of every shade of opinion bring to their work; how these Scripture warrants, which might fairly be insisted upon, are put out of sight: as, "The labourer is worthy of his hire," "They that preach the Gospel must live of the Gospel." And not only do they take nothing from the Church, but, more than that, bring to it much of their own private resources, their patrimonial inheritance, the little competency on which they must depend, in the event of their own deaths, for the maintenance of their families, and, in an unworldly confidence, lay them on God's altar, and beseech him to accept