BE it known to you, my objurgatory friend, that I have finished a sermon this very evening,--a sermon of reasonings, in part, upon this very matter on which you speak; that is, the difference of opinion in the Convention. "Prove all things; hold fast that which is good." Radicalism and Conservatism. The Convention took the ground that both, as they exist in our body, could work together; it accepted large contributions in money from both sides, and it is not necessary to decide which side is right, in order to see that a statement of faith should have been adopted in which both could agree. I was glad, for my part, to find that the conservative party was so strong. I distrust the radical more than I do the conservative tendencies in our church; still I hope we are too just, not to say liberal, to hold that mere strength can warrant us in doing any wrong to the weaker party. [282] To be sure, if I thought, as I suppose--and--do, that the radical ground was fatal to Christianity, I should oppose it in the strongest way. But the Convention did not assume that position. On the contrary, it said, "Let us co-operate; let us put our money together, and work together as brethren." Then we should not have forced a measure through to the sore hurt and pain of either party. As to the main question between them,--how Jesus is to be regarded, whether simply as the loftiest impersonation of wisdom and goodness, or as having a commission and power to save beyond that and different from it,--one may not be sure. But of this I am sure, that he who takes upon his heart the living impression of that divinest life and love is saved in the noblest sense. And I do not see but there is as much of this salvation in those young men as in those who repel and rebuke them. There! let that sheet go by itself. Alas! the question with me is not which of them is right, but whether I am right,--and that in something far more vital than opinion. It does seem as if one who has lived as long as I have, ought to have overcome all his spiritual foes; but I do not find it so. I feel sometimes as if I were only struggling harder and harder with all the trying questions, both speculative and spiritual, that press upon our mortal frame and fate. To Miss Catherine ill Sedgwick. SHEFFIELD, Dec. 31, 1865.