The

system. Protestantism aimed, and still aims to overthrow the usurped supremacy of the Pope, to destroy the errors which ages of darkness and corruption brought into the world under the Christian name, to disenthrall thought and conscience from the tyranny of the priesthood, to set free the Bible to the use of all men, and to restore primitive Christianity-the doctrines and ordinances of Christ and his apostles. Now it is possible for a religion to become corrupted-even Solomon introduced corruption into the worship of Israel; and if a religion become corrupted, then for its purification and for the restoration of the primitive condition, there must be a movement of reform. The date of this movement must, of course, be subsequent to the date of the corruption. corrupt religion may be hoary with antiquity; the movement of reform may have begun but yesterday. This is the necessary order of events. That it began but yesterday is no evidence against its genuineness. That it is not yet completed does not prove that it is not a true work. Romanism is ancient, but it may not be as ancient as the apostolic age. Protestantism is recent, but it may be a return to the ancient and true Christianity. Romanism as history is very old, but its doctrines may fall short of the original authority. Protestantism as history is new, but its doctrines may reach back to the original authority. What then has their comparative historical antiquity to do with the question at issue between them? If we accept the old because it is old, we may accept the most enormous errors. Let us then accept Buddhism and Brahminism. Let us bow to the priests of China and India. If we reject the new because it is new, then we may reject the very reformation required-a new awakening of the human mind to regain the eternal truths which had been buried for ages under the dark masses of error and superstition.

III. Nor is the question at issue to be determined by comparing the compact organization and deep repose of Romanism with the loose array of the Protestant movement, and the conflicts and disorders attending it.

There has, unquestionably, been a vast deal of exaggeration as to the loose array, the conflicts and disorders of the Protestant movement; and much unjust reproach has been heaped upon the cause by the malice of its enemies.

The political combinations were not, indeed, always well organized; the powerful league of the German States under the Elector of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse, and its dissolution through want of an efficient head and united counsels, is an instance of this kind. But this disaster was more

than retrieved by the politic address and military skill and energy of Maurice, which led to the treaty of Passau, securing for ever the religious freedom of Protestant Germany. In France, too, the Protestant organization was by no means despicable, since it comprised heroes, statesmen, men of learning, and the flower of the industrial classes; and was really prostrated only by such measures as the massacre of St. Bartholomew's, and the revocation of the edict of Nantz-by assassination and exile. Nor was it despicable in Holland, Scotland, and England. In Holland and Scotland the expurgation from Roman error and influence was complete. In England the long struggle with Romanism and semi-Romanism ended in the full establishment of the glorious Constitution by which the rights of man are secured throughout the British Empire. And it must never be left out of view, that the empire States of North America are borne up on the wave of Protestantism rolling westward.

Indeed the history of Protestantism is no mean history. It seems to us to make up the body and soul of the history of the last three hundred years-the most rich and remarkable period of all history; for the work of Protestants has been both to renew a primitive and pure Christianity, and to advance science, art, commerce, and the institutions of government. If Protestant inventions and discoveries in art and science, if Protestant constitutions of government, and legislation and jurisprudence, if Protestant literature, and Protestant great men in every department of life, were all expunged from history, what would Roman Catholic Germany, and France, and Italy, and Spain, and Portugal, and Ireland, and Mexico, and South America have to present to fill the void?

A similar review of the ecclesiastical organizations of Protestantism must lead us to similar conclusions. We admit, many disorders existed, and very extravagant forms of fanaticism prevailed more or less. According to Mr. Macaulay's showing, Rome would have politicly absorbed all these in her organization, and have artfully employed them to accomplish her ends, as in the case of Loyola. But Protestantism was aiming at the consolidation of no ancient system, and at the defense and safety of no ancient errors. She was aiming simply to gain freedom and a pure religion, and hence she combated with error and extravagance in her own ranks, no less than in the ranks of Rome. She was struggling not to build up a hierarchy, but to build up the truth of the gospel. We will not deny that there were exhibitions of that ignoble jealousy which is ever clinging to human nature; that

there were oppositions and disruptions where there ought to have been nothing but friendship and harmony, as in the case of the followers of Luther and Zuinglius. We will not deny that even now such charges may be justly made against Prot.estants. Protestantism has not yet attained to perfection.

But, taking the whole movement together, there was organization and harmony in no insignificant degree. There would have been still more if the State had not thrust itself into the Church. The disorders and convulsions in the Protestant Church have had a political rather than an ecclesiastical origin. The history of the Church Establishment of England will afford an illustration.

Church organization shows itself in two things-doctrine and polity. Now in both these Protestantism has attained to organization. The assemblies and synods of the Protestants have been filled from the beginning of the Reformation until now with men of at least equal learning and dignity with those who have made up the great Councils of the Roman Church. The creeds and confessions which have proceeded from them will bear comparison with any thing that has ever proceeded from the Councils, whether viewed as clear and consistent expositions of Scriptural doctrine, or as systems of theology logically constructed and possessing unity. And this can be affirmed of them not only taken separately as proceeding from different bodies, but taken collectively as capable of being harmonized into one great creed and confession of Protestantism-represented by the leading, most numerous, and most influential denominations.

With respect to polity, Protestantism presents but two general phases. Under the one the ministry of the church are perpetuated through an episcopal function historically deduced from the apostles, and represented by an invariable rite. Under the other, they are perpetuated through a function of appointment of a more popular character, and exercised according to principles held to be plainly expressed in the gospel, without considering any historical deduction necessary to be authenticated. Under the first phase, there must be orderly appointment, the Church of Rome itself being judge. Under the second, there must be orderly appointment, if the authority of the gospel can be educed to sustain it. As a matter of history, the Protestant Churches, under both phases, have enjoyed the preaching of the gospel, Christian ordinances, and wholesome discipline. They certainly will bear comparison in all these respects with any Catholic societies in the world. No one will say that the

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Roman Catholic parishes of Ireland are better ordered and exhibit finer forms of Christian character than the Episcopal parishes of England and the Presbyterian parishes of Scotland; or that the Roman Catholics of Mexico are better taught, better disciplined, and led into a more beautiful Christian life than the Congregationalists of New-England; or that the inhabitants of the Papal States, under the very shadow of St. Peter's, are more intelligent and in better religious training than the Protestants of Prussia or of the Swiss Cantons. The intellectual condition, the religious sentiments, and the habitual life of nations and communities are exposed to general observation. We say, look at the condition of a people where Romanism has ever had undisputed sway; look at the condition of a people where Protestantism is the acknowledged religion.

But although we might thus vindicate Protestantism from the imputation of extraordinary irregularity and confusion, we contend that the question at issue does not lie here.

Any system of religion which has prevailed for centuries, and comes to be an unquestioned authority, must hold the belief and sentiments of a people in repose. Every institution of society is permeated by it. Government and law feel its impress. Social life is filled with its spirit. Literature is the record of its legends, and is enlivened with its imagery. The arts represent it in forms of grandeur, awe and beauty. It has its temples hewn from the solid rock, its gigantic and monstrous gods of stone in India. It has its temples of ideal beauty and majesty, its gods of divine proportion and expression wrought in pure and delicate marble, in Greece. The very antiquity of the system, to the popular mind, clothes it with dignity and sacredness, and settles its truth. The ignorant and superstitious masses know of no other religion. They believe what has always been believed. They do not dream of questioning it. Its legends are sacred histories. Its errors are ancient truths. It consecrates every thing which it touches. The drunken song of the bacchanal is a hymn of praise to the god. Licentiousness is a mysterious rite of worship. The religion is every where; it overshadows all. The thoughts and passions and daily life of the people are full of it. Whatever is heroic and national, whatever is imposing and beautiful, whatever is active and productive, whatever is fascinating to the imagination, is covered with the marks of this religion. It possesses the heavens, the earth and the sea, the world that is, and the mysterious and dread world to come. Its priests are venerated as the messen

gers of the gods, clothed with superhuman authority; and its sacrifices and rites are communications with unseen powers. Here is repose, order, harmony. There are no conflicting sects, no noisy fanatics, no restless inquirers seeking to distinguish between truth and falsehood. There is universal and profound belief, universal and profound obedience. The reign of the priesthood is undisturbed. What can Rome claim for her ten centuries of triumphant rule, and calm repose, more perfect than this? Is it an evidence that she is divine? Then also is Mohammedanism divine, the classical mythologies, and the old religions of the East.

But a system of error, however long may have been its repose and its undisputed sway, may at length be attacked. The light of truth may at length break in upon the massive darkness. The first attack may be feeble, the first rays of truth faint and glimmering, so as to excite little attention, to be thrown into insignificance by smiles of ridicule and scorn, or repressed and extinguished by a slight exertion of authority. But let some bold, energetic and eloquent apostle of truth appear, and begin to gather around him adherents; then will the old system take the alarm, and persecution and violence will ensue. There will now be agitation and uproar, and the whole community will begin to move in angry surges. The more vigorous the attack, the more clear and logical the exposition of truth, the more rapid the increase of the opposing party, the more successful the movement,—the more will the old system struggle to maintain itself, and seek to crush by force what it cannot master in argument. All revolutions are attended with agitation and conflict, and none more so than revolutions in religion. If we would have a purer system, a new order of things, we must submit to the inevitable conditions.

The reforming party are placed at every disadvantage in respect to position and circumstances. They have to bear the burden of the argument, and the reproaches which are ever fastened upon innovations. They have to maintain their cause without the supports of acknowledged precedents and authorities. They are without the patronage of the powerful, and they may be long in gaining the sympathy of the multitude. Old customs and popular usages are against them. They have no records in history, and no representations in art. They seem to be ruthlessly trampling upon whatever is beautiful and venerable. They seem to be presumptuously setting up individual and novel judgments against the collective and established wisdom of ages. They seem to