3. The New Testament teaches, that the worship to be offered by Jew and Gentile alike, is to be presented to the Father, through the Lord Jesus Christ, by the Holy Spirit.

4. We have no doubt that the early disciples met, invariably and statedly, on one day of the week for the purpose of presenting such worship; and that on the first, or Lord's day. For a time they often assembled also on the Jewish sabbath; they might meet on other days also; but we think they felt it incumbent on them to spend the first day in the service of God and in honour of Christ.

5. The worship of the assembled church was not conducted by the disciples indiscriminately, but by individuals qualified by the Holy Spirit; and, when not specially appointed by the apostles, called and recognised by the church, i. e. ordinarily. Those persons were denominated ἐπίσκοποι, οι πρεσβύτεροι, bishops or elders. We have instances of deacons, and perhaps of others, who both prayed and preached, as Stephen; but whether in the case of deacons, it was as deacons; and whether in the case of others, it was an extraordinary arrangement, it is not necessary now to inquire; thus much however may be affirmed, perhaps, without hesitation; that of the bishops or elders, the ministry of the word and prayer was the proper business, the appointed work.

It may be proper here to make a distinction between those assemblies which were gathered together for the purpose of publishing among men the Gospel, and convincing them that Jesus was the Messiah; and those which consisted only, or chiefly, of the disciples: the ékkλŋσía, which met together for mutual edification and the worship of God. Whether in the former case it was usual for the heralds of mercy to read the law, to sing or to offer prayer, we know not. The probability would seem to be, that the first was sometimes done, the second and third seldom or never. Paul, in his own hired house at Rome, read the Scriptures, and expounded what he read; while at Mars' Hill, he appears to have done neither, but to have acted simply as the ambassador of Christ. It is what was done in the ἐκκλησία, the congregation, we are anxious to ascertain; and remark, therefore,

6. That they met where it was suitable or convenient,-in the temple, the synagogue, the private house, or under the canopy of heaven. They met for fellowship with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ, and with each other. The means they used to secure this fellowship, seem to have been the following:- 1. The breaking of bread; the communion (Kowvwvia, joint participation) of the body and blood of Christ; and we think there can be little doubt, that as they met for this purpose every Lord's day, this was also a principal object of their assembling. They prayed, they continued in prayer, which was offered in the name of the Lord Jesus. After the manner of the synagogue service, they doubtless read the Scriptures, and also the letters they might receive from the apostles, or from sister churches,

as the Colossians, &c., were directed to do by Paul himself. They sang. They would naturally be led to this by the example of Christ, at the institution of the supper, whilst such assemblies seem to be the appropriate places for that singing of psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs, enjoined upon them. There was, doubtless, exhortation likewise. This we learn from 1 Cor. xiv., and other passages; and it seems to have been at an assembly of the church, though not on the Lord's day, that "with great power gave the apostles witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus; and great grace was upon them all." All this was done for one great object: in relation to God, the offering of a reasonable, pure, and evangelical worship;-in relation to the worshippers, the increase of personal and social religion amongst them.

But it is obvious that many questions are unanswered here, and that there is much in the detail of their procedure, we cannot gather with certainty from the inspired records; e. g., What was the length, the frequency, the order of their services, and the relation of the various parts to each other? How was the reading of the Scriptures regulated, when they possessed only the Old Testament, and as they came into possession of the several books of the New? What were the number and character of their prayers? Did they, as is alleged, borrow from existing Jewish compositions? Admitting that in some cases, they were assisted in prayer by proper inspiration, were those offered by the settled bishops and pastors, which were not thus inspired, purely extempore, or pre-studied or pre-composed, either ordinarily or occasionally? Did the people take any active part in any of the devotional exercises except singing, as by audible responses, &c.? To what extent did they introduce singing? Did they use instrumental music; and if not, was it because of its unsuitableness, or merely because of the circumstances in which they were placed? What was the character of their music? Were their psalms, &c., of inspired or of human composition, or both? What proportion of the time of their ordinary assemblies was given to direct devotional exercises, and what to teaching and exhortation? What were their postures in worship? &c.

Now, these are questions of detail, unanswered in the New Testament; at least not answered distinctly and categorically: yet they are of immense importance. This fact suggests other inquiries. Was the worship of the churches, when settled by the apostles, every where strictly uniform? If so, was it intended to be, in all respects, a model for future imitation, from which there should be no departure? Was it suitable, or was it possible, in the then existing condition of society, to complete the details of an order of worship, which should be adapted to every people, through all succeeding ages? Admitting that the great principles for its regulation are clearly laid down, not to be altered either by addition or subtraction, not to be in any way

contravened or departed from; and designed to preserve a substantial oneness to the end of time,—were the infant Christian churches capable of fully acting out these principles? Are there no elements, even of the Christian institute, which admit of continually expanding developement as human nature advances and proceeds to its full growth? Supposing, in each case, the same measure of Divine influence given, could the devotional services of the Jewish church at Jerusalem, or of the assemblies of the saints in Asia Minor, eighteen centuries since, be as intelligent, as full, as sublime, as entrancing, as we may suppose they will be, when mind universally has reached its highest point of culture, when knowledge, and science, and art, shall have gained their greatest elevation; when the whole human family shall in the understanding of the Scriptures be men? Are not even we, who live in this advanced and boasting age, conscious, not only that we want more grace, but that we have very much, in many other respects, to learn, before the worship of the sanctuary can be conducted in all its simple grandeur, and impressiveness, and power?

We have said that the question of detail is of immense importance. We think it not difficult to adjust, if men would come honestly and without prejudice to the task. Yet it may be so answered according to the view which they take, first, of the mental and physical, secondly, of the religious nature of man, as to lead to systems and modes of worship, if not radically and essentially different, yet so distinct as to produce opposite effects. It has been so answered, 1. Some have treated man as chiefly a sentient, others as chiefly an intellectual being. The guiding principle of some might have been, that the senses are the only avenues to the mind, and that the heart can be affected only through the imagination; accordingly their religious systems have been constructed to awaken, at all events, and in the first place, intense feeling, impassioned fervour, deep and solemn awe; in the hope thereby of securing devotion as the result. Others, as if repudiating this principle altogether, have said, religion belongs to the mind alone, and needs no material or adventitious aids; have treated man as though the senses were excrescent in matters of piety; and disdained to use the imagination in its service. The principle of both is false. Each is an extreme, and, therefore, a great error. Each, too, is an error alike of excess and defect. Our material and immaterial natures are allied, and act reciprocally. The understanding ought to control the senses; but the senses, in their turn, can and do influence the mind, for good or for evil. The reason should command its handmaid, the imagination, and a pure heart keep it in check; but the imagination has power also to stimulate the mind, and quicken all the pulsations of the soul. The religion of Jesus Christ is intended for man as he is. It is adjusted to his compound nature. Its Author understood the delicate and implicated relations of our physical and

mental frame, and has not arranged his worship, to divorce what he had previously joined. If man forgets this connexion, and departs from the principles of his own Divine institution, he will assuredly fail. Perceiving the immense power of outward pomp and ceremonial, he may unduly press them into his Master's service; but whilst he excites feeling to his heart's content, and produces terror, rapture, agony, or ecstacy, it may prove to be but a poetic religion, a sentimental piety, without an iota of true and enlightened devotion. The frame, though galvanically excited, is lifeless still. Or, convinced of the immense superiority of an intelligent and spiritual, to a formal and ritual worship, and determined that in his piety there shall be no admixture of over-excited and spurious feeling, he may reject all external aids, and attempt, independently of them, to kindle the inward flame of devotion. But for the most part, he must as signally fail. The Spirit will refuse to respond to his desires, because those Divine helps, which were given in mercy, are unwisely despised; and the body itself, as if conscious of being the work of the same hand that formed its more illustrious tenant, justly resentful of the indignity done to it, will refuse to indicate any life and vigour within. The creed of such a man may be scripturally correct, but his piety will have no beauty, save "the beauty of frost."

We believe, then, that body, soul, and spirit are intimately united, and mutually dependent. Bound by connubial ties, their jealousy of each other's right and power is a connubial jealousy; no slight can be offered, no violence can be done to either, with impunity. The proper principle, therefore, on which to regulate modes of worship, &c., so as to aid in the formation of true devotional habits, and to produce and develope the highest forms of inward piety, is to adjust the details of that worship nicely and wisely to man's essential nature, in harmony with the great principles of the word of God. There is a via media, a true via media, for universal man; which while, like the Gospel itself, it is exactly adapted to the average man, would also reach the extremes of civilised human nature, and embrace at the same time the intellectual and the sentient, the more and the less refined; warming and enkindling the one, repressing and regulating the wild and hasty ebullitions of the other; and aiding each, in his own order, in the formation of a dignified and manly piety. The imagination and senses must neither be overwrought nor neglected. There must be no such outward show and pomp in the offices of religion, as shall risk the strong excitement of the passions, and yet leave the rational nature untouched and disengaged; nor must they be so stripped of what is stirring and impressive, as to allow the worshipper to remain cold and unmoved, unawed and uninspired. There must be excitement, but that excitement healthy; and warmth, but without the kindling of

unhallowed fires. The mind must be allowed to glow, and yet be rational; and the heart to grow fervid, and yet preserve its sobriety.

2. Nor must the fact that man is essentially a religious, though a depraved being, be overlooked, in determining the most suitable forms and modes of worship. Scepticism is not natural to our race. Its members do not need to be convinced by reasoning, that God is, or that he ought to be worshipped. Every man knows and feels it. His tendencies to religious exercises, have all the force of instinct; they have characterised him in every age, and appeared in every tribe; so strong, so impetuous is the passion, that rather than not do homage, he will make a God. It is the few only that doubt; nor would they have found existence, had not the ministers of Christianity or superstition been the first unbelievers. Aristophanes had never satirised the gods, nor Socrates been a secret sceptic, if the priests of Minerva had been sincere. We question whether a Voltaire or a Bailly, a Hume or a Bolingbroke, would have been known, but for the scandalous corruptions of Christianity they witnessed. Nor has it been possible, at any time, or by any means, under the grossest and falsest forms of idolatry, or in the most superstitious days of Christianity, to persuade the multitudes to forsake their altars and their shrines. He that in a moment of strange infatuation spurns the God of the Bible, must have a goddess of reason: he that in his folly says, no God," proves that he does not believe what he says, by next moment bending his knee ; whilst he that in his pride laughs to scorn his companion that has become a saint, often in the self-same hour secretly wishes he had the courage to be like him.

Man, then, is not to be treated as if he were essentially sceptical and irreligious; as if he had to be made capable of worship, or to be inclined to offer it. The curse of sin, which has darkened the understanding and debased the heart, has scarcely enfeebled the natural religious appetite. The temple is crowded, though the Deity is unknown, and the priest obeyed, whether of Jove or of Juggernaut. Instinct, conscience, all the impulses and cravings of the fallen moral nature, will have an object of worship; and it is only necessary to kindle a light that seems to be from heaven, and frame a service that has the semblance of devotion, to stir the soul, either of the philosopher or peasant, to its depths; and awaken its hopes or fears, its terrors or joys. What we want is a mode and form of worship, which shall aid us in approaching the true God, and tend to make our devotions reasonable and pure. And in constructing such a system, this principle must be borne in mind, along with the former. While we recollect that the heart is an avenue to the understanding, always open, let us know also, that man, though fallen, is ready to worship. The temple is in ruins, but it is standing still, and ready from every