desires or affections. This it does independently of any acquired knowledge, and without reference to any other standard of duty. It does so, by a rule of right which it carries within itself,—and by applying this to the primary moral feelings, that is, the desires and affections, so as to preserve among them a just and healthy balance towards each other. It seems therefore to hold a place among the moral powers, analogous to that which reason holds among

the intellectual; and, when we view it in this relation, there appears a beautiful harmony pervading the whole economy of the mind.

By his intellectual operations man acquires the knowledge of a certain series of facts; he remembers them, he separates and classifies them,—and forms them into new combinations. But with the most active exercise of all these operations, his mind might present an accumulation of facts, without order, harmony, or utility; without any principle of combination, or combined only in those fantastic and extravagant forms which appear in the conceptions of the maniac. It is reason that reduces the whole into order and harmony,-by comparing, distinguishing, and tracing their true analogies and relations,—and then by deducing truths as conclusions from the whole. It is in this manner particularly that man acquires a knowledge of the uniform actions of bodies on each other,—and, confiding in the uniformity of these actions, learns to direct his means to the ends which he has in view. He knows also his own relations to other sentient beings,—and adapts his conduct to them, according to the circum

stances in which he is placed, the persons with whom he is connected,-and the objects which he wishes to accomplish. He learns to accommodate his measures to new circumstances as they arise,and thus is guided and directed through his physical relations. When reason is suspended, all this harmony is destroyed. The visions of the mind are acted upon as facts; things are combined into fantastic forms, entirely apart from their true relations; conduct is widely at variance with what circumstances require; ends are attempted by means which have no relation to them; and the ends themselves are equally at variance with those which are suitable to the circumstances of the individual, Such is the maniac, whom accordingly we shut up, to prevent him from being dangerous to the public; for he has been known to mistake so remarkably the relations of things, and the conduct adapted to his circumstances, as to murder his most valuable friend, or his own helpless infant.

In all this process there is a striking analogy to certain conditions of the moral feelings, and to the control which is exercised over them by the principle of conscience. By self-love a man is led to seek his own gratification or advantage; and the desires direct him to certain objects by which these propensities may be gratified. But the affections carry forth his views to other men with whom he is connected by various relations, and to the offices of justice, veracity, and benevolence, which arise out of them. Conscience is the regulating power, which, acting upon the desires and affections, as

reason does upon a series of facts, preserves among them harmony and order. It does so by repressing the propensity of selfishness, and reminding the man of the true relation between regard to his own interest and the duties he owes to other men. It regulates his desires and pursuits, by carrying his views beyond present feelings and present gratifications, to future times and future consequences, and by raising his attention to his relation to the great moral Governor of the universe. He thus learns to adapt his conduct and pursuits, not to present and transient feelings, but to an extended view of his great and true interests as a moral being. Such is conscience, still, like reason, pointing out the moral ends a man ought to pursue, and guiding him in the means by which he ought to pursue them; and the man does not act in conformity with the constitution of his nature who does not yield to conscience the supremacy and direction over all his other feelings and principles of action. But the analogy does not stop here; for we can also trace a condition in which this controlling influence of conscience is suspended or lost. I formerly endeavoured to trace the manner in which this derangement arises, and have now only to allude to its influence on the harmony of the moral feelings. Self-love degenerates into low selfish gratification: the desires are indulged without any other restraint than that which arises from a mere selfish principle,—as a regard to health, perhaps in some degree to reputation: the affections are exercised only in so far as similar principles impose a certain degree of attention to them: presM

ent and momentary impulses are acted upon without any regard to future results: conduct is adapted to present gratification, without the perception either of its moral aspect, or its consequences to the man himself as a responsible being; and without regard to the means by which these feelings are gratified. In all this violation of moral harmony, there is no derangement of the ordinary exercise of judgment. In the most remarkable example that can be furnished by the history of human depravity, the man may be as acute as ever in the details of business or the pursuits of science. There is no diminution of his sound estimate of physical relations,-for this is the province of reason. But there is a total derangement of his sense and approbation of moral relations,

for this is conscience. Such a condition of mind, then, appears to be, in reference to the moral feelings, what insanity is in regard to the intellectual. The intellectual maniac fancies himself a king, surrounded by every form of earthly splendour,-and this hallucination is not corrected even by the sight of his bed of straw and all the horrors of his cell. The moral maniac pursues his way, and thinks himself a wise and a happy man; but feels not that he is treading a downward course, and is lost as a moral being.

In the preceding observations respecting the moral principle or conscience, I have alluded chiefly to its influence in preserving a certain harmony among the other feelings, in regulating the desires by the indications of moral purity, and preventing self-love

from interfering with the duties and affections which we owe to other men. But there is another and a most important purpose which is answered by this faculty, and that is to make us acquainted with the moral attributes of the Deity. In strict philosophical language we ought perhaps to say, that this high purpose is accomplished by a combined operation of conscience and reason: but, however this may be, the process appears clear and intelligible in its nature, and fully adapted to the end now assigned to it. From a simple exercise of mind, directed to the great phenomena of nature, we acquire the knowledge of a First Cause,-a Being of infinite power and infinite wisdom; and this conclusion is impressed upon us in a peculiar manner, when, from our own bodily and mental endowments, we infer the attributes of Him who framed us: "he that planted the ear," says a sacred writer, "shall he not hear; he that formed the eye, shall he not see; he that teacheth men knowledge, shall not he know ?" When we trace backwards a series of finite yet intelligent beings, we must arrive at one of two conclusions: we must either trace the series through an infinite and eternal succession of finite beings, each the cause of the one which succeeded it; or we must refer the commencement of the series to one great intelligent Being, himself uncaused, infinite, and eternal. To trace the series to one being, finite, yet uncaused, is totally inadmissible; and not less so is the conception of finite beings in an infinite and eternal series. The belief of one infinite Being, self-existent and eternal, is, therefore, the only