that it was more or less blasphemous to deny the united testimony of my senses giving such unbroken evidence to facts so perceptible to their powers, and I have yielded to such conviction. Oh, my friends, I had often thought during the time of the mass, that if I could change the bread into the body and the wine into the blood of my Redeemer, that I would consequently possess a most exorbitant power—that I would transcend by the nobleness of my act the infinite majesty of heaven itself—that my Creator should be at the beck of my fancy—that whenever or wherever my will suggested, I might summon Him from the throne of his Eternal Majesty and convert upon the altar of frailty a little scrap of insignificant bread into the body, the blood, the soul and divinity of my Maker. Oh, my friends, that God who measureth the tops of the mountains in a balance, and the waters of the sea in the hollow of his hands—that he, who rideth upon the whirlwinds, making the earth his footstool and the canopy of heaven his covering—that he, who formed the heavens and the earth, all things visible and invisible—that he should descend from his eternal throne to enter into the womb of a virgin mother—there to be inclosed for the long space of nine revolving months, and afterwards to be born, in time, under the figure of a mere child—under the form and the habit of a poor slave; oh, my friends, it is human redemption alone, could call for such an act of humiliation. But that the Saviour of the world, after having offered one, eternal, immeasurable and unspeakable sacrifice for the sins of mankind, and that after having been placed by his own irrevocable decree at the right hand of God, that he should descend from his throne of eternal justice upon the altar of human weakness, and that there, at the mere announcement of a few insignificant words, falling from the lips of a poor weak mortal, he should suffer a wretched collection of diminutive portions of bread, of similar figure, of similar size, but of similar material as common wafer—that he should suffer them to be converted into his Infinite Majesty—that that Infinite Majesty should continue whole and entire under each such particular species of bread—that afterwards he should allow his boundless omnipotence to be confined within the narrow precincts of a poor miserable little box, commonly called a pixis, and then to be hacknied about from place to place, and distributed from person to person according to the whim or caprice of human suggestions—such, my friends, I have considered, would be unworthy of Infinite Majesty—would be derogatory to his eternal attributes—subversive of the principles of that humanity with which God had vested himself, and contradictory to those words which I hold as unalterably true, that if the resurrection has added glory to, it has not annihilated the humanity of a Redeemer.